Look up, see the stars...

It's late and everyone has already gone to sleep. I get up from the couch and walk across the dimly lit living room to get my jacket. I think of it twice and decide that I do have the time to relax and think, «hell, I'm on vacation». So I take my jacket, put it on, get the keys from the table and silently go out of the room, across the hall, down the stairs, until I finally get out of the house.

Outside it's warmer than I thought. I reach for my cigarettes inside my jacket's right pocket and take them out --I don't really consider myself a smoker; nonetheless, I like to smoke the occasional clove cigarette. The pack is so old now that some of the cigarettes have actually lost some of their content. Oddly enough, the one cigarette I pull out of it happens to be one of them and has already lost at least two thirds of its body. «Oh well»

I lit my midget cigarette and look up to see the stars --there are so many to be seen.

There is a sigh now.


Somehow, I had to think of you.

It's raining snow

Death Cab for Cutie is playing on my iPod, it's just some song I've heard before --what was the name of that song? Oh well, I can't remember. I keep on walking. Today is a gray, cold day... I return back to my body and realise it's raining. Somehow, though, I'm not getting wet from the rain.

Song change.

Death Cab for Cutie is still on, this song I know too, I think. But then again, all their songs sound the same, so I may as well not know it. In any case, the music goes perfectly well with the weather.

It's raining snow.

You know, when the raindrops aren't really drops, but snowflakes, but the weather isn't cold enough, so they melt to the point of almost becoming drops... Anyway, it's raining snow (or snowing rain, whatever you want to call it) and I'm on my way to the bus stop so I can finally go to the office. I don't really care if I get a little bit wet, so I walk at a slow pace, thinking, listening to music...

Next thing I know, I'm looking at the gray sky... I miss the sunshine.

Trips - I dream I typed


I wake up sometime between midnight and dawn to the sound of typing. I open slowly my eyes, everything is still blurry and dark. As my mind realizes I'm awake, I myself realize the typing sound didn't come from outside but that

I was dreaming I was asleep and in my dream I dreamed

I typed a story --I almost always type stories, what was typing invented for if not for writing anecdotes, fictions, thoughts... I didn't type letters, but concepts, ideas. And the story these concepts told was about a dream I had. In my dream I dreamed I typed a story about this dream I had where

I'm asleep and suddenly, I wake up sometime between midnight and dawn to the sound of typing.


old & bitter

A wooden table stood between them. It was a rather clear autumn day, the Sun was shining and there were few clouds to be seen. It was a fresh day too, like autumn days ought to be in this part of the world, with a light breeze blowing here and there every once in a while. They sat on opposite sides of the table, looking at the horizon, looking at nothing in particular, looking at the mountains not yet covered in snow, but somehow quite white already.

A soft breeze came by, disheveling hair and stirring steam as it blew, and then left, leaving a slightly refreshing feeling on its way. Two steaming cups of coffee stood on a wooden table. This was the common ground. He liked his coffee with milk and sugar; she liked hers black.

--You know? I really don't want to grow up to be a bitter old woman--She told him out of the blue.

--Huh? Why would you be a bitter old woman?

--Oh, it's just... Well, it's kind of normal, isn't it? You grow up, and suddenly you don't agree with how people live and such, and then all you know is you're all bitter and complaining about everything the whole time

--Why? Wha... Ok. Ok... Maybe you're right. But I dunno. I won't be like that ever. I just won't.

--How can you say that? How do you know? And, anyway, I was talking about me.

--Well, don't you go worrying about that... I'll be there to help avoid you turning a bitter old witch.

--Awww, that's nice of you, thanks.

Another light breeze passed by, she took her cup to her mouth, sipped her coffee and, after noticing it was already getting cold, said in a rather bitter voice:


To which he just giggled.


The Spiral

My face is buried in my hands. "Sigh", I sigh. I'm tired, it's already late at night and I had an exhausting day. It's not only that I had much to do, but also the routine that withers my energy day after day. I'm thinking of nothing in particular; concentrated on relaxing my body, I take a deep breath and stay another minute like that. Normally, I don't turn the lights on if I don't need them. Lights are off, the room would be pitch dark were the window blinds not open. It doesn't make any difference, with my hands over my eyes I can't see anything anyway.

Sometimes I close my eyes to have a better look at myself.

Yet another couple of minutes pass by and everything starts getting darker. Not even my ears can perceive any clear noise. The air stays still, as, apparently, does everything else. It's as if the whole world had agreed on letting me concentrate and have my peace of mind. Suddenly, I reach the point and, for one second, the darkness is total, a darkness of the senses, a darkness that comes from within and, thus, thicker than the mere lack of light. I don't feel anything, don't see, hear or smell. My mouth isn't even there. Not where I am anyway.

It is when I am away from my body, that feelings hit me stronger.

For one whole second, I leave my body completely and turn into a much more vulnerable self. A self without any kind of protection against the outside world whatsoever. For one whole second I forget appearances, judgments, and any kind of interaction. In the depths of the infinite well of my soul, I find myself losing consciousness, losing myself.

It's only after I've lost everything, that I'm capable of anything... of everything

My lost self turns one with my soul. A bottomless well filled up with the infinite of life; I regain consciousness and, with this newly reacquired awareness, I realize I left and came back. I notice I'm in my body again --by the way my body feels, I know it missed me and it's glad to have me back. I'm still in the same room; nothing changed, face still buried in my hands. After breathing as if I were tasting the air for the first time in my life --exquisite elixir of life, filling every inch of me--, I raise my head and, automatically, almost instinctively, turn to look out of the window.

There's a man sitting in the shadows. It's very dark, so I can only notice a figure. It is clear enough though, for me to notice that he's in a profound state of mind. I try to get a better look, but fail at it, it's too dark outside. Then I close my eyes once more.

This time I hear a voice and, in my mind, I can clearly see a man squatting on the grass at night. He is repeating some kind of mantra. I try to make out the words he's pronouncing when he, out of nowhere stops and turns to look at me.

"At last", he says...


On your left shoulder

The four of them were sitting at the table. On the web-radio, playing on the computer behind one of them, some old swing music was on (he had always liked Frank Sinatra.) "I've always liked Frank Sinatra", one of them said. Another one asked if that's what they're listening to and, after the affirmative answer, he listened a little bit more carefully --he knew who Frank Sinatra was, somewhere on the road of his life he had heard the name, but had never really listened to one of his songs. "Cool", a third man said, "it really goes with the mood right now". The fourth man was about to make a decision and wasn't really listening. "Check", he said. The others answered with a nod of the head or a short knock on the table.

He felt a little tingling on his left arm, starting at the elbow, going all the way up to his fingertips. It was his turn. He reached for his glass with the other hand, took a sip of hazelnut liquor, put the glass on the table and suppressed (not completely) a smile while he said "Raise, four hundred", with a soft, elegant voice. The other ones tried to avoid showing any mood changes and kept "acting normal". After they had all said their stances (three called, one folded), he softly muttered "good" and, for a short moment, an icy blue flare flashed in his eyes.

As they kept playing, the smile on his face started to become more noticeable. It was his turn again, he raised the bet, to six hundred this time. The man left from him was pondering his options. «Come on, call, the pot is huge, you know you could win it all», the man thought. He took another drink from his beer, and, after leaving it on its place again, threw six black chips to the centre of the table. The turn was for the man opposite to him. «It's about time for another drink, your mouth is going dry», the thought went round and round in his head. "I. I. Hmm.. I'll... Hmm Yes, I'll pass... I fold, I mean", and as soon as he was finished with that, he stood up and fetched himself yet another beer. Finally, the last player was next. Starting to lose his temper, he had almost shouted at his neighbour to the right to hurry up and make his mind and to stop drinking before he couldn't think at all. He could clearly see it in his mind, how he suddenly stood up and, without any notice, just beat the crap out of this foolish drunk. But he suppressed the thought and called with equally black six chips.

His eyes flared with more intensiveness as the game kept going.

When they finally finished playing, one of them had almost tripled the money he initially had, another one was so drunk, he couldn't even stand straight, a third one was so angry that was already nervous and shouted every time he opened his mouth.

He, however, had exactly the same amount of money he had begun with, and that eternal faint smile, which clearly revealed that he was the only one who enjoyed the game.


Viciously ever again

In a thought he thought he walked. While he walked, he talked, and, how much he talked!, he thought.


Walking in the darkness, I strive to find a way out. I hold my hands up front, "the zombie way", I think to myself and laugh for an instant. It must be a funny picture and I can't help but imagine that someone, for some unknown, strange reason, is watching me and laughing his guts out at the scene --there goes a guy, arms fully extended up front, slowly waving in every direction possible, feet taking turns to make ridiculously small steps, each time trembling all over with fear of bumping into something. Well, ok, perhaps it doesn't sound that funny, but I laugh anyway and still I can't avoid walking like that --except when I'm not walking at all because the laughter doesn't let me (I actually have to bend down to my knees to keep from falling because of it.)

Several hundreds of steps later, after falling twice to my knees laughing at myself, I finally reach what it seems to be a door (which is strange, given that I'm out in the open.) When I knock on the door, it's not the muffled sound that surprises me, but the sensation that that's all there is to it. Only a door. No house, no frame, just a door. I look for the handle, feeling the door all over, and, instead, I find a cold metal plate with what feels like a metal lid attached to it by a tiny ball on its top "probably the keyhole lid", I guess. Before I have any concrete thoughts, my curiosity takes over and I try to slide the lid open to one side. It slides, "so it is a lid", I tell myself and my curiosity is temporarily satisfied. I look to one side (not that it would have made a difference, given that I was swimming in a pudding-thick darkness), turn my eyes, turn rapidly to the other side, and take my hands instinctively to my pockets. "Hmm... Damn, I have no keys with me", I take a deep breath and then it comes again.

"Take a peek", he says, and at first I don't even know what's going on. "Come on, take a peek", he repeats. This time I freak out, normally, I hear that voice in my head, not out of it. Yet, there it is, the voice. It is as if someone else was there with me. No. Not someone else. It is as if myself was there with me. It is me who spoke, but. How?..

Light. White light.

The next I know, my right eye is slowly trying to adjust to the light. At the same time, I'm trying to figure out what the hell was that just a moment before. I try to make memory of whatever happened just before now and after me asking myself why was I hearing myself out of me, when the light doesn't blind me anymore and I can clearly see a shadow. I near the keyhole to have a better look and I see some guy, walking with really small steps and waving his fully extended arms in front of him as to not to crash with something.

I swallow a mouthfull of air and open both my eyes as wide as I can while I straighten up in a flash. I try not to think about anything, close the lid quickly, and slowly take a step aside as to give myself some time to digest what is happening. All the while, I keep staring at the door and, suddenly, I hear something approaching. The something comes very slowly towards me.

Closer, closer... Stop

For a moment I don't hear a thing. I hold my air and, just when I start breathing steadily (I'm thinking I somehow already know what's going to happen), I see a faint white light shine.

"Take a peek", I tell myself...


No... Not cool.. Not today anyway

My earphones lie on top of the table. Now that I think of it, they lie in my ears as well. I don't know what's worse though. When they're lying on the table, I can't seem to be able to concentrate and I miss them. On the other hands, when they lie in my ears, they lie to me, they tell me fantastic stories of people who most probably don't exist and they give me hope. They give me the dangerous kind of hope, the kind I don't need. They give me the hope I want to have.


Let there be sunshine

I'm going through and through, turning each page with despair. "Where was it?", I ask myself aloud. I remember reading it in one of these books, it has to be in one of them. "Ah, here!", I shout happily while holding a book with both hands (why is it that I always find what I'm looking for in the last place I look for it?)

I start reading aloud the text I finally found. Its words are so familiar that it seems they have always been part of me. As I keep on reading, the letters on the paper start moving, breathing, they seem to be alive. After a while it's not my voice I hear in the room anymore, but the book's. The text is alive and speaking to me, echoing in my head and out of it, in every corner of the World. I close my eyes, or at least I think I do, and everything turns to darkness. Slowly, I stop hearing, feeling, breathing, and a last thought silently soothes me. "So this is how it feels".


In a room, on the floor, lies an open book. A yellowish, warm light enters through the only window. Beside the book, an empty chair and a coffee table stand solemnly. On top of the table an ashtray holds a cigarette, which still lets out a fine thread of smoke, and an almost empty glass with some thick golden liquor in it. It smells sweet, like cloves and hazelnut.

Everything seems quite normal, just a minute ago someone was reading here. What was he reading though, is hard to tell. All the letters in the book are scrambled and only a few words can be made out.

Let there be sunshine


Newspaper poet...


Hmm... Where is it?... Give me a "the", come on... Ah, there


Aaaaaaaaaand, snow


Ok, perhaps not the best I've made so far, but it's ok, I guess. This is my own way of writing, this is how I like to spend my free time. I like finding something beautiful in the everyday life, and I like sharing it with others. It is refreshing indeed, I wonder how many people read this. Oh well, no biggie if there are only a couple of them. I just love doing this, and you can find used newspapers everywhere. People just read them and then toss them away, thank goodness...



As I lay my cup of coffee down on the table I raise my eyes to find you looking at me. We stay like that a few seconds, then I turn towards the lake and let out a sigh. I don't need to see your face to know you're smiling. Without turning around, I reach for my cup of coffee and, on the way, our fingers meet each other --just like the world, it is a small table we're sitting at. My fingers caress yours. Your fingers kiss mine. We, through our hands, engage in a passionate kissing session which might not be suitable for under-age spectators. We let go, not really wanting to, and reach for our respective cups. I take a sip of coffee and listen to the slight breeze shaking the leaves on the surrounding trees --I know you also love that sound.

After emptying our cups, our hands reach out for each other and lay together on the table.

Sometimes silence draws us even closer than we already are...


It's the blues, man.

I'm usually a quiet person, ain't talking 'bout myself too often. My feelings? No, man, definitely not. It's only with a few brothers that I can speak about 'em. But when I hear the music man, then it's all a different story. A whole different thing. I get goosebumps on my arms an' my spine, know what I'm talking 'bout? Oh, and then the harmonica. When I take the harmonica in my hands, man. That's a new world, like I'm crossing some kind of portal to another dimension. I just close my eyes and take the harmonica to my mouth 'n I speak my soul out. It comes from here, ya' know? It starts right here, at the center of my stomach and goes up. I can feel it, with my eyes closed I can even see it, all my soul pouring like some strange glowing liquid, haha. And it comes all the way up and it moves me, it's that which plays, you see? It's not me, I just let go and my soul moves my body, my shoulders start shaking to the music and my hands and my mouth just start playing by themselves, as if they had a life of their own. Through the harmonica I am myself completely.


Filosofando ando

Filosof.ando por los sinuosos caminos del pensamiento, con sofás de doble filo, fieles aliados en mi interminable viaje, cortando la maleza de caos; con.ciencia abriendo paso a mi ser, dejando que sea, absorbiendo el caos que, finalmente, es el origen de las estrellas.



On a world of magic, where everything is possible, you came to me as I came to you. We said hello, we talked a bit. I bought a pie, from which you stole a bite and, just when I was about to tell you "what the hell?", I met your eye. I moved my lips, or at least I tried, you came a bit closer and I felt I'd die. From your lips I hung, I must confess, suddenly there was no world outside your face. My mind was at loss, I didn't know what to do --why, let go, of course, don't be such a loo! So I just let be and, like a magnet of sorts, just as honey to a bee, you and me, and me and you, and your lips on me, then my lips on you --oh sweet mouth, oh sweet kiss.

Please, let it last, please, I'll do anything you say, please just don't let me wake...


The tree of wishes

He could already see it, "the tree of wishes", he whispered to himself. It had been a long way up there, but somehow he didn't feel tired at all. It was as if he had just begun walking. Had it not been for the movement of the Sun and the stars, he wouldn't really know that time had at all passed.

As he neared the tree, the brownish, dusty path began fading and giving way to all kinds of little plants and grass, green, soft grass. A soft glow seemed to come out of the tree and the music of leaves and branches came to him when a sudden breeze passed by. He noticed he had, somewhere up the road, stopped walking. Still he moved, hovering, pulled by some invisible magnetic force towards the glowing tree. On the sky, a murder, like a huge black cloud, flew back and forth cawing chaotically, filling the air with a storm of shouts.

Finally, he got to the tree, "finally", he whispered to himself once more. As he reached to touch it, the black cloud of crows settled on the tree's branches and stopped cawing, the breeze calmed down until the air was totally still, besides his heart's thumps not a sound could be heard. He started glowing in the same golden tone as the tree itself. The tree's trunk seemed to stretch and reach for his fingers.

A slight touch, barely a caress. Black, oblivion. Everything ceased to exist for a couple of seconds. A vision, a thought; no, all thoughts. A sound, the sound of all sounds together, the light of all light together; light and no-light, sound and no-sound. That which is...


The loss

Crazy, delusional, through a field of thoughts I walk. With every step I feel as if I were floating on some silvery liquid, which doesn't wet me, but evaporates at the touch of my bare feet. The soft fragrance of a distant melody reaches my ears, I close my eyes and, as I concentrate on the sounds, a myriad images, some of them memories of past things, some of things yet to come, crawl through my nose with every breath.

This is what my life has come to. Unable to distinguish between dreams and reality, I see people where there are none, I think just blurry images and imagine incomplete thoughts. I don't know where I am anymore.


The way in is through

His eyes, dark as onyx, were fixed on her. She couldn't move, couldn't talk or even think clearly. All there was, was darkness. Darkness embraced her, as a snaring cloud of thick smoke. Slowly crawling in between the ever less light that reached her glassys, mixed with the air she breathed; slowly, ever so slightly, he intoxicated her senses, her being.

All her attempts at resistance were futile and, so, finally, she couldn't resist anymore. Her soul, now completely wrapped in twilight, shone as strongly as ever. It was as if, through his glistening black eyes, she had fallen into a deep abyss, a place of suck an intense bleakness that she felt there was no room for anything else; senses obscured, nothing to see, breathe or hear, the only thing to feel was this strong oppression on her heart. And suddenly, as if she had found a portal to another dimension, every single part of her was able to sense the world with such intensity. She opened her every sense to experiment this new universe of hers. She wanted to embrace it all, she was light and wanted to illuminate everything which existed. She wanted to mix herself with the air, the light, the sounds, the warmth; took a deep breath, exhaled and let go, illuminating and warming everything she touched.

On the background, as a crow flew past, his laughter was heard.



These are dark days...

The dark days of the soul.


She's an image, an illusion,
the portrait of perfection.
She shines, flies, strives,
in a pool of darkness she dives.

He comes from darkness,
her nature resides in light.
But light can't be felt
and darkness can't be held.

He's an idea, a thought,
the core of what she sought.
He deepens, Stygian as he is,
the reflections of all that lives.

He comes from darkness,
her nature resides in light.
If they were to combine,
the product would be madness.


Dialogs with The Devil

Man: So... You're The Devil
Devil: Well... Yeeeeh, yes... yeah... aha.. yep, that would be me.
Man: I see... I thought you were red and had horns and a tail... And goat legs...
Devil: ~~ So much as you being the most intelligent species on Earth.
Man: Excuse me?
Devil: Nevermind. Those are just cliches, stereotypes... As you see, I'm nothing like that.
Man: Yeah, I see...
~ Silence ~
Man: So... You're going to torture me or something?
Devil: No
Man: Offer me Earthly power and happiness in exchange for my soul?
Devil: Not quite.
Man (pensively): hmm...
Devil: You want all that, right?
Man: Hmm.. Yeah, actually I do.
Devil: So you haven't noticed... huh?
Man: What are you talking about? What haven't I noticed?
Devil: Ok... Earthly power you say? Have you not noticed who is the dominant species on the planet? Earthly happiness? Come on! Sodom and Gomorrah are heavenly cities in comparison to today's societies. I mean... Are you sure you need me to give you those things? Your perversion goes as far as of being in a position of power over other humans through Religion! And not only that, you (laughs) make (laughs some more) wars in the name of God!!!
Man: They are not wars in his name. I was simply trying to bring my fellow humans to reason.
Devil: Oh yeah, God gives you freedom of choice and you take it away. Very magnanimous from you. So what if other men don't want to have the same beliefs than you? Who are you to force them to change?
Man: I was just worried for their souls.
Devil (laughing again): So you tortured them!
Man: Hm.. well... ehmm...
Devil (laughing loudly): And burned them alive!!! Genius!
Man: No, wait. Those were people who adored you.
Devil: Ah, of course, good old witches and some visionaries... You're sick.
Man: Sick? You're The Devil! It's mostly because of you that bad things happen here!!!
Devil: Wait a minute sonny. Be mostly careful with what you're saying. You know what was my gift for you?
Man: Yes, you tricked us into eating the fruit of Good and Evil, the fruit of Wisdom; you promised us that we would be as powerful as God himself!
Devil: Oh? So you're accepting your gilt of a deadly sin before my intrusion? Had you not greed, even before I tricked you? For it was your greed, envy and vanity which actually did the job for me. I just asked.
Man: No, you tricked us!
Devil: Yes, you think that, evade your responsibility, that's what I'm here for. But before you go on, stop a minute and review once more what happened after eating that fruit. What was of you before, and what became later. Is it not self awareness what you achieved? Were you not living like any other animal in the world, naked, without differencing between you and everything else? Was it not until after eating from the fruit that you gained self awareness? Is it not that self awareness which makes you so unique in comparison with other species? And, if you look back at it now, would you rather know nothing and live happily ignorant?
Man: But you are evil! You did that out of jealosy!
Devil: There you are wrong again, for I love humanity and I do much for you. I admire you and amuse myself at your creativity, that special ability of yours to complicate even the most simple of facts. On the other hand, I must say, I am only doing my part on The Great Plan. Do you really still think that God, being almighty, all knowing and all that, wouldn't know how everything was going to happen? I wasn't rebelling, I was fulfilling my task, the whole meaning of my existence is to guide you through life. I'm not bad, nor good. I am circumstances, I am God as much as you are, for we are both creation of his. I am abstract, something you can't touch, but can name; I am there to remind you about your responsibility to the world in which you live. Never forget that.
Man: I hadn't ever thought of it that way.
Devil: Some of you know, but they are rather few, and from them few, a handfull use that knowledge to gain power over other humans. You should stop and think who is the real evil entity here. You or Me.
~ Silence ~
Devil: Think about that.


She speaks in music
the contents of her soul.
Her feelings, her wishes,
as liquid sound she pours them all.

A bright star with a tail of light,
the firefly swims at night,
her soul, a silver knife
cuts the darkness, spreading life.

I fly, feel, breathe, and drink;
in the liquor of her being I live.
With her music I intoxicate my heart,
With my music I intend to reach her heart.




That was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes. Then he saw a fireball pass by really fast. Then another, and then some more, until he definitely lost count of them. The light was still everywhere, he thought, at first, that it was only the blinding effect of perceiving light after a long time of darkness. However, now he noticed the light was everywhere, there even seemed to be no ground nor heaven. He tried turning right and then left, but nothing would happen. Suddenly, his orientation sense got crammed, for there seemed to be no up, down, left or right...

Instinct dictated he should close his eyes and, unknowingly, turned somehow spongy. The effect was that, which he had wished for, namely, all he could see became blurry, as if muffled by some kind of filter isolating him from the outside world. It was not until some time had passed, that he actually thought of himself. Isolated from the outside, limiting his interaction with everything which isn't himself, he finally relaxed a little and questions started popping in his mind. It was then, when he first grasped the idea of form --which form did he have?

After feeling himself and probing how he physically was, he discovered he was exactly as the same as the other fireballs that hovered pass by before. Feeling a little bit more confident, he opened the eyes he did not have, turning his spongy exterior for a harder one, thus revealing a sharper sense of all that surrounded him. He paid attention to what the others were doing (hovering there and back) and didn't understand a thing that was happening. His form didn't have any meaning at all, as well as everything else. Hard as he tried, he just couldn't make sense of anything at all. He thought of asking someone what was all this about. Everything went dead suddenly, and, not an instant had passed, when everything turned another color, but which one, he couldn't tell. Not knowing what to do, he started to despair, everything was so chaotic. He tried following what seemed to be a group of fireballs moving together just to find out later that they weren't together and some of them even puffed into some sort of brilliant smoke clouds.

A fireball finally passed near him and he was able to ask what was happening. What the other fireball let him know didn't help at all though...

The lack of comprehension was building inside him a huge sense of anxiety, and when this anxiety became too big to bear, he suddenly got the feeling that he was going to explode. Not knowing what to do, without a clue of what or why he was, he started hovering around without any destiny in particular. This hovering around seemed to cool him down and so, he hovered some more, always with increased speed. The cooling down caused by the hovering suddenly became the only thing meaningful. Now he at least understood one thing: he needed to hover around like crazy... Immediately after grasping this, another enlightening came to him, now he knew why everyone else was hovering around...

Afterwards he kept hovering, kept existing, some other things he came to understand, and some he did not.



How do you feel when you can't understand something?



Bitter, but not disgusting. Just the right amount. I feel the slightly lemony vodka tonic, its million bubbles exploding everywhere in my mouth. The straw loses contact with my lips and the glass returns slowly to the bar. A sudden rush of air comes out of my mouth in form of a sigh, I turn right and there she is. A black, sleeveless dress, leaving not much to the imagination, white, somewhat tanned skin, straight blondish hair falling gracefully just down the ears, glasses, a most attractive face; «perfect», I tell myself. I take another sip of vodka tonic, she's surrounded by people, laughing, drinking, talking; she looks so happy.

--More salt sticks?
The barman, who had already noticed how I was looking at her, tells me while putting a new glass full of salt sticks in front of me.

--Marcelina. He said.
--Wha.. Sorry?
--The girl, her name is Marcelina.
--Oh, the... girl.. How did you? Was I too?... Nevermind...

The bartender laughs and keeps on serving the other clients, by the time he comes back he tells me she's having some kind of farewell party. She used to work here too, but now she has some things to do abroad and, well... She's leaving tomorrow morning.

I order a second vodka tonic and more salt sticks to kill time. I turn once again, resigned to look at her from afar and, after searching between all the faces, can't find her. «Must've gone to the restroom», I think and go back to my salt sticks.


Oh God... Now how do I get away from here? I know, I know, it's my party. I'm leaving tomorrow morning and I should be enjoying myself. I know.

--Hey! Marcelina! Come here, look what we've got you

Great! They're all happy and enjoying themselves and... Well, actually I'm having fun too, but... Who's that guy?

--Yes, yes, I'm coming... Give me a sec. I'll just return this glass to the bar.

Phew, ok, now I just have to trip while taking this stupid glass and I'll have some excuse to talk to him. Okay, walking now. I hope he doesn't suddenly turn round.

--Oops! haha, almost dropped it... Sorry.
«Damn, he didn't even turn around»

--No problem, do you want something else? Or are you just returning the glass?
--I... I think I'll have a vodka tonic, please.
«Hm, what now? Should I sit right next to him? or not? Think, THINK. Oh, hell I sat. And I'm next to him, oh hell, oh hell... He doesn't even turn around»

--Heere you go, vodka tonic.


She's here. She came here. Well, follow the rules, don't turn to see her. Just keep it cool man.

--So, how's it going? The man on the bar.
--Oh well, not great. Got dumped some months ago and since, I just haven't met anyone else. Not one whom I'd like to know deeper, you know?
--Yeh, shit happens man.
--Yes. It does happen. Anyway, I'm not complaining. It's just... Well, man wasn't made to live alone you know? And sometimes I don't even know if I'm ever going to find the right one.
--Yeh, I know what you feel. What? A large pils? Yes, a moment. Yes, 3€, ok.. Thankyou, see you soon. Oh, hi! Do you want something? Or are you just returning the glass?

Vodka tonic! What are the odds? And she sat right by my side. Damn she's pretty! I wonder if I should say something.. Would she talk to me if I tried?

--Hey man! But... You know? I mean... Things happen man... Don't worry, you'll find something. I mean, look at me, 30, single, still dating, you know? Just live man...
--Yes, yes, that's the point. I know something will come. It always happens, and always when I'm not expecting it. Anyway... I'd just like to start again, you know? From scratch...
--Yeah dude. Yeah, totally... Wait, give me a sec. Be right back, have to keep up, you know.

So... Ok... Now I'm alone, with her. If I want to meet her, now's the time. Just.. Turn and say hi. That's all. Turn and say hi.

«God!, what a lame "hi"»

M. & D.

--Hi back
«Cool, after all, he does know I'm here»
--I'm David, I... It's the first time I come here... Nice bar, huh?
--Yes, nice.
«Haha, his hair on his forehead.. Kind of sweet»
--Sooo... You come... Often?
--Hmm.. you could say so. I used to work here.
--Ah, you worked here, I see... Cool.
--Yes, I liked it a lot.. Great people here, friendly all of them.. A little bit too happy perhaps. hihihi
--Yes, haha...
*** silence ***
--So... When are you leaving?
«Damn! Fucking idiot! Now she'll know you talked about her»
«How does he...?»
--Hmyeah! I, uhm... Heard something about it, yeh...
«Well, well, well»
--Ok, ok... I was looking at you and the bartender, this great, remarkable man here, noticed and told me one or two things.
--Is that so? And, what precisely did he tell you?
--Hum... yeeeaaahhh.. Well... stuff, you know?
«Damn... Now what do I do?»
--Haha, ok, stuff... So.. Anyway, I guess I should get back to my friends, you know?
«Aaaaaand?? Come on, come on! Ask me for my number!»
--Yeh, go have fun.
«Ask her for her number, ask her! Damn, she's standing up...»
** Silence **
--Hm, hey! Wait.
--Hmm.. Maybe... You'll come back someday? Perhaps we could go out for a coffe or something...
«Haha, yeah, right... If she still has the same number...»
--Yeah, perhaps we could.
«Hasn't aaaasked...»
--So... uhmm... Give you my number?
«Yes, great, that's way better. Now she can call me... If she wants»
--Yeah, great idea. Wait a minute
«Hmm... I won't call him... What is he thinking?»
--Cero, one, seven, six, six, six, haha, yes, I know, hahahaha... Three, cero, two, one.
--Cool. Thanks
«Great, he didn't ask for mine... Damn, perhaps I will have to call... Damn, damn, damn»
--Oh, know what? You can call me now, so I get your number.
«Yes, the best phrases come out without thinking»
--Ok. Good idea.


She calls, hangs up, I store the number and ask her name again, just that she doesn't get the impression that I'm some kind of stalker. She then gets up and goes back to her friends. Meanwhile I finish my drink, look at her a while more, occasionally catching her eye and baring a little smile. Then I pay and leave the bar not knowing if I'll ever see her again.


Ok, so it was a strange way of asking for my number. Very... Polite. Strange. Well, he has it now, that's what mattered. I wonder if he'll call though. Oh, we'll see. I hope he will.. He seemed interesting. Perhaps... Yes.. Maybe...


My questions for you

What if God didn't create everything?
What if there is no God?

Then what?
How did it all happen?
How does it all still happen?

What if we, together with all that is were the creators?
The idea is not that different from that of a God-being.
In fact, it's just another point of view. One much more evolved and much broader too.

It is not a single entity with some definite form, who lives in a definite place and thinks as a single being.
But the different interactions , agreements and disagreements of all that exists.
Every single bit creating something. Like an orchestra, where everybody creates a little part, and together they create a whole.

What if we are responsible for everything we do?
Would we still have the need for a Devil? A Hell?
What if we faced our consequences directly? Would we notice when we do something "wrong"?

What if there wasn't a God and a Devil and we were the only ones to blame for all good and bad that exists?
What if there wasn't a God and we were to rely on ourselves to overcome our problems?
What if there wasn't a Devil and we were to face the consequences of our misdeeds in life and not after we died?


Someone told me once that the right man for her is a man who doesn't seat and complain. He stands up and fights, never gives up.

So enough complaining about the world. Enough stating what I think is wrong and why... Too many people do that already, and they only get angry and cause more anger on people who disagree...

As of now, I shall state what I believe in a different, better way.


So yeah... God said "thou shallst love thy fellow man", and based on that it is derivable that peace is highly valued and so on... But could anyone tell me what God said about ecology? Did he ever say "thou shallst not pollute or damage thy environment"? NO! And why? I mean, it's also part of his creation... Shouldn't it be equally regarded?

And what about other things like overpopulation? or gene manipulation?

And how many people know that only 144,000 souls are to go to heaven? (as written in The Bible), and why do children have to be baptized? Ok, so they're still paying for the Original Sin (the one committed by Adam and Eve); I thought Jesus had just been sacrificed in order to pay for all of humanity's sins... Was his sacrifice useless then?

And why is that the only way? What about the other religions? They're good people too, they try their best to live peacefully and respectfully and so on... Why are some wrong and some right?

Is it just me? Why are there so many people who just can't see how stupid this all is? Everything that religions achieve is war, hatred, racism, cultural clashes, suffering, lose of knowledge and scientifical research... Just so a bunch of men may have power over other men...

Come ON! It shouldn't be that difficult to see!

What if?

What if I choose to keep on moving?

Take your chances?
Yes, exactly... Take my chances.
What if it goes wrong?
Then it'll go wrong...
Hmmm... So you're not afraid.

GOSH! How I laughed with this...

The Soul Eater

Fatal, unstoppable, the soul eater makes his way through the masses, walks ineffably towards his one and only goal: devoure more souls.  As it happens, he has just found one.

Moving with the precision of a natural hunter, he corners his pray until there's no exit possible and all hint of hope is totally lost. Once this happens, the terrible Soul Eater takes his victim with his enormous hands and, with amazing skill, desembodies it's soul. The victim's outer shell, like a hollow body, lies torned over what would've been it's backside in other, happier, times.

The monstrous being devoures, with infinite patience, every bit of soul he's now got in his hands. The taste of every bite, makes his whole face lighten up, as if he were enjoying the bliss of heaven itself. And once he's done, he still takes his fingers to his mouth, in order to suck until the last drop of escence --waste not!

The scene is herrlich*, Hunter squatting on the floor, empty corpse on one side --curiously, there's no trace of suffering anywhere to be found. Some time passes by, during which the Soul Eater still enjoys the taste of his last meal on his mouth. Then, terrible as it is, this apparently cruel, heartless monster, opens his mouth and his thunder of a voice makes all the sorrounding things vibrate in terror... 

I want more cookies, he says.

Then crushes the now empty cookie box and throws it into the waste bin.

Worte merken...

duck, teapot, opium den,

map, steeple,

maske, bühne, digitaluhr, bürste,



Hey, hey
Fire drops falling from the sky. Every single one of them falls on my skin and finds its way through to the very core of my soul.
What've you got?
Every single one of them... Burning, burning like hell. And yet, they are ice cold.
Doesn't matter to me 'cause I don't want them
Funny feeling, my hands, starting with my fingertips, are going totally numb. My flesh burns. Or freezes? I can't tell the difference anymore.
I'm not the only one
«Breathe» I keep running.

Didn't get any inspiration at all...

So I give you a link :)


Enjoy :)


Just sleepy.

And a little bit anxious. 

Hope tomorrow I can write sth interesting :)

All I do, I can still feel you...

Though, lately, I'm not so sure anymore... Perhaps this time was something else.

Maybe so.

And so it ends...

She loves me not, and I love her still.

Exactly as it begun

Just asking

- I heard you're the devil

- Nah, nah... I'm not. Who told you?
- Hmm, well, you know... People
- I see. Nah, They lied.
- Ok, just wanted to make sure.
- Yeeeeeeeeeeeeehhhh...  No biggie...

- So, tell me... What would you say if I told you can have anything you want? Do everything you've ever dreamed of, and more....

Fox in the Snow

Friendship moves in misterious ways. It doesn't matter where you are, how you feel, what are you doing... Sometimes, it just gets where you are and tells you you're not alone.

Danke Catarina :)

Frozen Wishie

He slowly walked towards the grass. Each one of the tiny green needles was covered in a thin coat of frosting. He got there, took his shoes off, then his socks, put them in the shoes and, after lifting both shoes with his left hand, stepped into the green patch. 

Every step felt wonderful, he closed his eyes and listened to the slightly crushing sound produced each time he'd break the frost with his feet. A tingling sensation would come now and then; between the toes, on the slight arch formed in the middle of each foot, on the heels. After a few steps though, his toes started to go numb. He opened his eyes and kept walking. The view hadn't changed much, still the frosted grass, still some trees, and to his right a dried-up dandelion. He went that way, crouched and, though normally he would blow it to send all the tiny seeds flying through the air, touched it ever so gently. It's frozen darts, whiter and thicker than ever, were a fantastic view. Too pretty to destroy it, he left it as it was, stood up and walked to a nearby tree. The grass and soil under its shadow was, naturally, colder than the rest. That seemed a good place.

That would do.

He took his sweater off, then his shirt, then squatted on the spot. His jeans got wet almost instantaneously. A sad, chilly sensation invaded him. He sighed, closed his eyes, took a deep breath and tried to conentrate on that frosty feeling. All the loneliness in his life was concentrating in himself. He thought of the dried-up dandelion. He was the dried-up dandelion, standing alone in a world of frost and grass and pale light. With this image in his head, he layed down on on his back. The chill was almost painful, he felt it go all the way from the soil, to the grass, to the frost, to his skin, through his bones, to his heart. 

Yes. This is a good place.
This will do.

He kept his eyes closed. Drew breath, exhaled, and let go.

I wish...


I stopped hating you... Don't know how it happened.


Si bien el morbo es curiosidad, curioso es que la curiosidad no es necesariamente morbo.

En un verso --porque decir universo es limitar lo.que.es y negar que lo.que.es no es multiverso y viceversa-- en el que ambos se interpolan, capaz soy de sentir curiosidad sin sentir morbo e incapaz soy de sentir morbo sin sentir curiosidad. Y ya que estamos en tema de limitar, limítome a describir curiosidad como un hambre más allá que acá, tirándole al lado intelectual más que al esencial y morbo como una sed más acá que allá, quedándose más en el lado esencial; el morbo, siendo así, una agujita que toca y mueve cuerdas más relacionadas con el ser que con el pensar. Casidríamos decir que hay una pequeña línea de oceánicas proporciones dividiendo a lo uno de lo otro... (gracias (por leer))

Nota.- Si no eres Orlyx, probablemente no entenderás mucho de lo que se dijo
Nota2.- Si eres Orlyx, probablemente lo entenderás la primera vez que lo leas, pero después lo olvidarás ;)


Sometimes, when you start something, it is just impossible to stop. Like a pebble sliding on ice, your actions keep you going and going, until you eventually crash with something bigger.

Two days ago I closed a circle in my life. That was the initial impulse. Today, two days after the first push, the inertia took me with all its might and I closed yet another circle.

It has already begun, and it won't stop until I hit with a wall.

Someday, I will get you back.

Closing circles

As I already said once, time is an illusion, a mere political agreement, by which humans in a society interact with each other. That said, we have that time doesn't exist as such and, while it sets a standard for most activites, it doesn't necessarily has the same effect on each person. Thus, regarding experiences, ideas, way of thinking, moral values, etc... people move at different speeds. These can, however, be measured.

Cycles, opposite to what one may think, have a beginning and an end. The interaction between two or more humans can be measured in cycles; one individual starts some interaction with another one, and keeps on going until some objective is fullfilled. Success in reaching the goal of a specific cycle is what I call "closing a circle". Now, cycles don't have much to do with the political concept of time. An interrupted cycle may stay in that state for an indefinite amount of time until it is closed --say, either the objective is fullfilled, or by other means like psychotherapies.

Today I closed a circle.

Thanks everybody... thanks :)

The man with the hat [ I ]

«Finally, some rest»

«Yes, you deserved that already»
«This one was kind of tough. Tough is good. The effect will last a little longer»
«But not long enough. You know that»
«I know, it keeps getting worse»

The mutilated rests of what appeared to have been once a man rested scattered on the long grown grass. Except for a few insects and perhaps one or two wild animals, not a soul was there to be seen. There was plenty of time, and much to be done.

«How many Trents still alive?»
«371 on this town»
«Good, let's finish this one already... I'm getting hungry»

The procedure was not simple. The first thing to do was to heavily drug the Trent (or Alex, depending on the case) in order to keep him alive and conscious as long as possible. The drugs should not, in any case, make him numb, their solely purpose was to render him immobile. Then the Trent would have to be undressed, taking care of stealing whatever money he could have, cleaning every piece of metal and disposing of the rest with the clothes. Not a single drop of blood should be dropped until the Trent was already on the ground. Once naked and on the ground, he would be cut into pieces --starting at the feet, trying to keep him alive and suffering as much as possible-- and the flesh was to be ripped off of the bones. Identifiable body parts, such as teeth and fingers, were treated with special care --teeth, actually, were disposed apart, thrown to the ocean or buried in a graveyard. Finally, three piles were made, one with the clothes, one with the bones and one with the flesh. Everything was then soaked with gasoline and set on fire. The bones and other parts which weren't consumed by the it were to be buried on different spots and no less than two meters underground.

The whole thing was disgusting and he always ended throwing up. But also, temporarily relieved.


This is how it goes

First I'm stupid and fuck up. You tell me you want to be with me. You still have hope.
Then I realise how stupid I was and try to make it up. Now you have it back. And not only back, but better. So what do you do? You tell me you don't want it anymore.
I'm hurt, deeply hurt. My heart and soul severed by your actions until a point where I can't stand it anymore. I can't give you anything more, I get insanely mad and what do you do? You tell me I'm ruining everything and you still had hope with me...

Honestly! How fucked up is that?

Quiero olvidar

Daría cualquier cosa por no sentir nada por tí


I'm beginning to hate you

Ode to absurdity


The last goodbye

They say you have to let go. If she comes back, she loves you. If she doesn't, she was never yours...

My mistake

Lying on a bed of green
I feel myself slowly fade.
Everything I have been
inevitably goes away.

I made a big mistake,
a wrong decision is all it takes,
to throw my life away
to throw my life away

As I close my I's,
I only think of you.
As consciousness dies,
my last thought is of you.

Love you as much as I may,
a wrong decision is all it takes,
to throw my life away
to throw my life away

Another chance is what I wanted,
for it I fought and panted.
"It's too late", you said,
"our love is as good as dead".

Tears don't fall

"Would she hear me, if I called her name?

Would she hold me, if she knew my shame?"

- Bullet for my Valentine -


There's not much time left now...

my fragile self

So here I am, sitting in front of you... Thinking, watching. It's a funny feeling, watching you, knowing you don't know I'm there.

You look so close, so real... I almost think I can feel you if I simply reach out with my hand. I decide not to try. I don't need this. I left... You left... We both did.

I made myself invisible, untouchable --perhaps unreachable would be the correct term. It's under heavy camouflage that I keep my watch on you. I must confess I can't resist it, your memory hunts me every single day. That's why I see you.

You've become my very personal angel of death. I dare not touch you, I dare not look too deep into my memories, I dare not think of you... of us.

This, now, is the eye of the tornado, the calm before the storm. I'm on a truce, the final truce... It'll soon be over, our final encounter is to come. I'm just sorry I know I won't be prepared. And I'm quite sure that I'll suffer the worse losses.

I see you again, you look so calm. It's all so calm... It's almost as if we'd never even met.

Just as if we'd never even met...


I've got to write.

Tell me.
I want to write.
I want to read.
But what should I say?
Whatever you want :)
What's left for me to say?
I'm empty...
I'm sorry to hear that...
Yeh, well...
Why on Earth are you blue?

El Ego

es una bestia comehombres


... and I turn slowly to my left hand. My empty eyes, black as unconsciousness, meet with what it seems to be the ashen rests of a broken heart. I realise suddenly that I should cry; I'd like to cry. My mouth opens as to start letting a stream of words flow to it, but it closes as soon as it opened, letting no sound escape. I sigh and, without moving my hand, I turn my head up again and walk. My expression is completely void of life, the other persons, if any, that look at me find only emptyness. As I keep my slow pace, looking everything, watching everyone, thinking nothing, feeling even less, I get a glimpse of dim light. It lasts just the tiniest millisecond. And it is during this eternity that the once ashen heart, dead on my left hand, comes to life again, pumping the juice of life through my veins...

For the tiniest lapse of time there, I felt I'm not permanently dead.

It's alive!


is as beautiful as you want it to be


For your eyes only

This is for you and for you alone...


Nobody else would understand anyway.

Lies make it better

I live submerged in my own reality. Call it a view --a point of view if you will--, call it whatever you like, it makes no difference. The fact remains that I'm all the time swimming in an ocean of lies. Lies everywhere I turn to, lies everywhere around me. These lies are responsible of keeping me alive, they constitute the air that I breathe, I drink them on my cup of tea and feed on them whenever I eat something. It is because of them that I think I understand the world and whatever happens on it. It is thanks to them that I'm able to interact with other people, and it is mostly them who form images on my mind for each one of these people I interact with. 

I grew up thinking I should always be honest. As honest as possible. But how can I be honest, when all I know are lies? All I live and create is a big fat lie. Now, I must be exaggerating, you'd say, I must be overreacting to one or two bad experiences, you'd argue. But think about it. If a lie is a false view on reality, something that describes something else highly unaccurately, and if everyone can think only subjectively --meaning, that everyone has his or her own view of the facts, which is merely natural, because of the nature of our brains--, then everything comes as a point of view, a subjective view. Hence, non accurately described, hence, a lie. Now, you may keep arguing, and I may keep arguing back... I won't, and you won't. Simply because this post, this "reality", this view, is about me. It's my own personal lie. 

Anyway, it's not just about points of view and subjectivity. It's also about who you are, how people see you. I think I don't know a single person who is 100% him(her)self. We all struggle to belong to a social group, we all struggle to find where do we fit the best, we all want to be loved and looked up to. So there's an expansion to this ocean of lies. It's not just the way I see the world, it's also the way I present myself to the world. I create a reality for me, where I can live in, and I create a character, an alter ego, who lives in another realities --namely, other people's realities. Then, on one reality, I'm this really quiet guy who works and reads, and listens to music and doesn't really do anything else; on another reality, I'm this really funny guy, who likes to speak in different languages and makes jokes and is really sensitive and lovable and loves a lot too; on another reality, I'm a perfect gentleman, who can cook, speaks smoothly, dresses well, has good taste in books, films, etc.; on another reality I'm the best friend anyone could have; and so on, and so forth... 

I don't know about you, but I'm getting the hang of this and I'm also starting to see the possibilities. Why not use this to my advantage?  I mean, it's something normal, everybody does it. I'll just do it consciously. Let the people see only what I want them to see. 

Manipulative, you say?  Nah...  Me?   Uncapable.  I'm a perfectly honest guy ;)

Thanks for showing me how cruel the world really is.

A nice day

Pancakes for breakfast, a mindboggingly big lake, sunshine, fresh wind, a ferry and good company... Sometimes you just don't need anything more.

The Pain...

I would like to say it feels like a nail, a very large nail, which buries slowly into my back, until it gets completely through to the other side... I'd like to say that.

It's actually more like a bar, huge, 10 cm. diameter steel bar. It goes from the base of my neck, to my back, until it reaches my ribs on my left side. Every time I move or breathe, the steel bar makes pressure on my muscles and bones, giving me the sensation of thousands of needles being hammered on my body. I cannot move my arms; cannot sit down, cannot lie down, cannot stand up... Everything, also when I stay still, makes contact with the bar. I can feel how the veins and arteries that run in it's vicinity make pressure against it too.

There are many different kinds of pain. And they can hurt either physically or emotionally. If you asked me, I'd say that emotional pain is harder to endure. Deeper, somehow, than physical pain. But this pain I have, has just acquired new dimensions.


The paaaain...

The Pain

Moments like this one, right now, are the ones that really make me suffer. I've been in some kind of numbness since yesterday morning, but now the pain came back. I don't know why... I guess it's just normal and sooner or later it was going to strike back. Anyhow, I find it difficult to concentrate right now. Music doesn't help me anymore, can't read from my book, can't work, can't think of anything else but her --damn her!

Oh, well... It's just the second day...   I'll manage, and sooner than I think, I'll forget. I'll forget and move on :)

Too Late

Misery won't get the best of me,
'Cause now I'm calling, yes, I'm calling on your bluff
Misery won't get the best of me,
'Cause now I'm calling, yes, I'm calling on your bluff
Throw down the cards, I've had enough.


This Suffering - Billy Talent...

La palabra del día - Filosofar

filosofar es el arte de sacarle filo a un sofá...

Esta Vez

They say a nail takes another nail out --or, in other words, that you need a "new" someone to take the place of an "old" someone in order for you to feel the less pain possible, or something like that. Personally, I don't believe in that. Yes, it does help, of course, but it's not really a solution, it's more like a placebo which helps for a while, but the sickness is still there and it's still going to kill you.

The right way of doing it is moving on by yourself. There's no need really for a placebo. That's just cheating yourself. The natural, healthy way of dealing with a rupture is living it --as a matter of fact, the only righteous way of living your life is by doing precisely that: living it. A rupture is part of life, isn't it? So one ought to live it, fully. The thing to do is accept that you're alone. It's a fact, you are alone, cope with it. 

So that's it, this time I'll do the right thing. This time I'll stay alone, I'll live my loneliness, even if that means years of such a status quo. Of course I can't deny I'll feel terribly sad for a while, I do, I feel incredibly sad. I can't deny either that I'll feel anguish and will want to talk to her and try and make her see her mistake, that too I'll be tempted to do. Each single day, every minute, I'll feel like calling her and begging her to take me back. And that's perfectly healthy too. I can't deny those feelings, nor ignore them. I shall cry, I shall scream, I shall write, then I shal cry some more... But sooner or later, that's going to go. The pain will slowly diminish and let behind a horde of beautiful memories.

I can't say I'm glad I let you go. I can only say that this time I'll do it right. And, although I hope with all my heart for you to come back to me, I'll do my best for it to be too late for you.

I love you, I love you like I've never loved anybody else.

The way out is through

I think I read it somewhere... Or did I hear it on a movie?

"Sometimes, to win, you have to lose"

My hollow me

In a dream I had a life. I remember being able to think clearly; I remember being aware of myself and being aware of everything else. I remember... I remember...

All that is left now is that:

I remember those abstract, now unreachable, terms which were once so natural. Love, happiness, trust... Their names are now just faint echoes of the sounds produced by their letters.

The pain is unbearable. It weighs tons and makes it impossible for me to move. I think I've lost weight. I've definitely lost energy and I don't have a purpose to live other than inertia.

I'm empty, just like a shell without any contents. My loving capability has been severed and I don't know if I'm ever going to heal.

I am not worth anything anymore. You can dispose of me whenever you like, however you like. Meanwhile, use me however it best fits your will, for I won't protest or defend myself anymore.

How to die...

I really don't know how to do it. I wouldn't really dare to try to cut myself and then wait until I'm drained from blood. It would take too long and be way too painful --thus completely failing to achieve the main point of it all: to stop the pain. There's no way out really, not a painless anyway, and if then, not here.

So here I am, seating at the computer, trying to spell my feelings and imprint them into this oblivious meaningless letters, listening to some depressive music, painted my arms with some stupid little lines and...

wait, someone's there. What the hell?


Warm waterdrops fell on his neck and back like purifying streams taking his stress and worries away. It was almost as being unconscious. No, it was like being someone else, like living on another world. A world where he didn't have any acquaintances, a world where there was nothing but his geist and a warm sensation caressing his thoughts and taking him into a state of deep calmness. While enjoying this wonderful sensation, he continued to wash himself. First his hair, using just the exact amount of shampoo not to waste anything. Then the rest of his body, which he scrubbed with a sponge made of some Agave-like fiber (the one used to make ropes) and a skin-smoothing shower gel with cactus milk and a fragrance that reminded him of peppermint. He washed himself thoroughly, carefully, at an incredibly steady pace --absolutely no hurries needed, he thought. Shaved then his face and, after a quick rinse, stepped out of the shower.

Darkness poured through the window. Liquid smoke, eating all the light in the room, slowly filling all space available. Everything it touched became distorted, as if seen through a very dark glass.

He liked taking showers at night, that way, it wasn't necessary to think about all he had to do afterwards, and he was able to finally relax. The end of the day. Why not the end of everything? He thought to himself. The question went away, leaving just a tiny echo in his mind. He dryed himself up with his yellow towel. The towel she gave me, he thought, but shook the thought away almost immediately. He brushed his teeth and inspected himself on the mirror, a routine he had been doing for the most part of his life now --sometimes he would find a new gray hair on his head, but other than that he hardly noted any changes at all.

The darkness awaited patiently, moving ever so slowly, entertaining itself by doing little spiral-like figures inside itself, something that would remind someone of the drumming of fingertips on a table trying to fight the boredom away. Once in a while it would take a look through the door and then go back to its waiting. Always waiting...

He finished his relaxing ritual and put on the blue boxers and the black sleveless shirt he wore as pajamas. Then he gave his hair a last shake, turned off the lights and got out of the bathroom. Across the hall, in his room, darkness, like some great, big, fat, bleak fate, was waiting for him.

He was well aware of that.

After closing the bathroom door, as he walked calmly to his room, his heart never changed it's beating rhythm and his breathing kept always steady. He was just happy and relaxed to know that he was going to bed for one last time. He would finally get a rest. The bed looked comfortable, as always. The room, gloomy as it was, felt cozy and invited him to lay down and give up. So he did. Lying on the bed, eyes closed, he sighed and let go.

What's the f%cking point?

You're not who I thought you were. A little time apart from each other and I start to notice huge changes in your personality, in your everyday life, in the way you behave when you're with friends, in the things you like to do.

That means that you're a totally different person when you're with me. And for a long time you've been not-you by being with me. So tell me, please, what's the point of being with me if you're not you?

And, mostly, who was it then? If it wasn't you the person I knew? Who was it then? Just some made-up girl who doesn't exist at all?

fuck it all... I hate being decieved.

Missing you

I have always enjoyed a taking a cold shower on very hot days. Today was a very hot day, and when I got home, I was very tired from riding my bike all the way from the train station. I was soaked in sweat and breathing heavily. The first thing I thought as I opened the door was about cold water on my naked skin. I went straight up to my room, got rid of my clothes --not without difficulty--, and then went to take a shower. As I felt the water streams hit my body and washed myself, I closed my eyes and thought of you. I heard some noises, probably just the wind playing with a door, but all the same I suddenly found myself fantasizing. Perhaps it was not the wind, but you. Perhaps you were here, in my room, waiting for me. I thought about it. It wasn't impossible, The entrance door was open, so you could as well have entered the house, climbed up the stairs and then went into my room.

I rinsed myself, got out, partially dried myself up, put on my boxers and went to my room. I knew I wouldn't find you there, I knew it was just a fantasy. I took a step into my room, then the second step, then turned to see the rest of it...

I didn't see you there.

-I miss you-


White, suddenly that's all I can see. Pure, dim, lifeless white. My stomach burns, not as if it were actually on flames, it's rather a slow sensation, deeper than fire. Like boiling water without bubbles spreading a dreadful heat to each and every part of me. I close my eyes, my fists tense and my face turns into a grim, for an instant my whole body becomes a single suffering expression.

Faint music, some clothes, your hair, your eyes, your favourite blouse, your neck, your smell, all of them are flashes in my mind. Like a hostile army, they come with tanks and planes, and drop bombs all over me. As I try to relax, I keep my eyes closed and breathe slowly. Breathe, your eyes. Breathe, your voice. Breathe, your smile. Breathe, your body. Breathe, deeper now, breathe... Slowly, unwillingly, the images go away. And as you leave with them, I miss you.

I close my eyes again, the whiteness comes. Inside me, there is another me. The me inside, tries to reach and touch you. He wants to tell you he loves you, he does, I can hear him. He's shouting now, kicking and striking blow after blow against an impossibly strong crystal-like barrier that stands between you and him. All this beating makes me hot. I guess now I know where that burning heat comes from. He's desperate, I watch him getting tired, kneeling down now, crying. He feels so impotent. It hurts, all that beating and shouting, it hurts. He's confused now. He doesn't know why he can't reach out. I take a deep breath, open my eyes, try to relax my muscles and ignore the pain on my stomach.

Walk, behave naturally. Shouting noises? Beating? Where? Nothing that I'm aware of.

Soothe me

The wave approaches
He awaits
A lone tree against a middle sized Tsunami

Roots grip the ground
firmly, though clearly overpowered
The sky will never be the same again

Branches, tweeds, leaves
Reach, stretch, reach
No use, noone's there to reach

Soothe me everyday


What we may say is of no importance. Feelings, love, passion, promises of loyalty, it is all nonsense. Not that they don't exist, or don't mean anything. They do. But, we shall ask ourselves when do they really mean what they are supposed to mean? Are there situations in which they cease existing? Are there circumstances powerful enough to render them useless? The answer, although highly subjective, is yes. After all, humans are highly complex living creatures who like to make use of their free will. And just like cats, they don't usually have other owner than themselves, which clearly explains why their sometimes impredictable behaviour. Thus, one person may give itself completely to another one at a time, and go away at another time. In other words, people usually try to do whatever they want; in an egocentric fashion, they try to please themselves by fulfilling their own wishes, sometimes regardless of the consequences.

Following this line of reason, the idea becomes clearer:

I am yours as much as I want to. Not more, not less.

I dreamed I hugged you

In a dream I was hugging you. I said I love you, I said. Me too, you said, and, after softly kissing my lips... your right hand my left ear, your mouth my right ear. Your hand spoke to me in the lowest of whispers as your mouth caressed me with the smoothest touch. Me too, you said again. You gave me goosebumps and my stomach turned into millions of bubbles popping everywhere so loud I thought you were able to hear them.

A dark room, mostly quiet except for two arrhythmic breathing noises. A few strypes of moonlight make their way through the semi-open blinds covering a window and lie smoothly, deforming theirselves, on a white sheet. Underneath, the figures of two bodies, moving slowly, following the rhythm of the breathing sounds.

I'm not hugging you anymore. As if someone had pressed a fast-forward button, we're suddenly lying on the grass. We're on some kind of park, some birds are singing and, in the distance, some other people and children are playing, laughing... We don't do anything special, we're just there. Fast-forward again, everything is moving too fast to follow and, after the blur, we find ourselves at the same place, eating a home made salad. What are you thinking? you ask me. Hmmm.. nothing, I say, Why?... Well, you seem so distant, so far away. And I felt suddenly so alone and I missed you.

One of the bodies moves a little and lets out a little moan. The figures are a little bit clearer now. One of them is definitely a woman, the other, the one with the shorter darker hair is most probably a man. After another, rather quiet moan, she moves again and turns to face him. Then, moving very naturally, almost as if being awake, she wraps the man wit her arm around his waist, drawing herself closer to him until they seem just one strangely formed lump under the bed sheet, barely illuminated by the moonlight.

I've been here the whole time, I tell you. I got distracted for a minute with that airplane that just flew past, but other than that I'm with you... Always with you.
...It's okay, you tell me while you caress me softly on the cheek. "It's okay", your voice keeps echoing on my head. I love your voice --did I just say that? Or just thought it?... After a giggle and a quick kiss.me.on.the.lips, I know I must have said it aloud.... Oh, well, it's true, so it doesn't really matter.
You're thinking aloud again, you tell me as you giggle once more. No I'm not! I say, trying to sound offended but not actually succeeding at it.

The room is getting clearer now and the light stripes on the bed start slowly to change their color, from pale blue to an almost undistinguishable shade of yellow. At the same time, temperature begins to increase and, as all this happens, a series of slight, subtle movements emerges from both figures. The first signs of consciounsness taking over.

This time there wasn't a fast forward effect. Instead, a new scenario just plopped around and underneath us. Lots of people, most of them with big bags, and they all seem to be in a hurry. I cannot really tell though, everything is a little blurry. There are signs everywhere and somehow all this gives me the impression of being at an airport. I look at you and your big, beautiful eyes speak to me in that private, intimate language only we know. We are both sad, and somehow happy at the same time. I'll miss you, you say. And I know I will miss you too. I'm always there, I say, I'm yours. And you know you're mine. You walk towards me, stand on your toes and, carefully, reach my lips with yours. I wrap my arms around you and we kiss good bye... Suddenly it starts getting warmer and are those birds I hear? I ask softly while still holding you between my arms...

Birds have started singing outside the window. The light stripes on the bed are much brighter now, turning the shadows cast by the blinds into mere blurry traces of gray lines. The sheet is now on the floor and both figures are totally clear to see. They are facing each other, legs interwined, his arm around her ending with his hand on her back, her arm over his ending with her hand on his back. Her hair lying softly on the pillow. Both noses so close they could easily be chatting about the weather.
...Morning finally comes and, as consciousness takes over, they slowly wake up.

Good Mornin'! I dreamed I was hugging you, I say... Wait! You said!

Once in a while

«Brrrr» my legs. Cold. Feet. Cold. Everything is dark, not pitch dark though, just dark. Ugh, my right hand is numb. Damn, how long have I been lying down? How long have I been asleep?

I open my eyes. Just a little so I can slowly get used to the daylight. GOD! Everything hurts...

Flashes of memories come to my mind like movie scenes of some sort. A crowded place; people sort of dancing, they seem happy... And sweaty.

«Hmm», a little moan finds its way out of my throat. What time is it? I grab my cellphone --I always leave my cellphone by the bed so I can easily reach it when I need it, it's also my alarm clock and you never know when you're going to get an important call-- and press a random key. As the screen illuminates, another flash comes to my mind.

Green eyes, glasses, a green corduroy blazer (strange for this time of year), a black turtleneck. Then, some friends of mine. We are all standing on this crowded place. It seems like a party of some sorts. We are drinking a Rothaus Pils --I like that beer.

"10:15 am" reads the cellphone. I feel a twitch on the left side of my neck so I turn to my left side to calm the pain.

Green eyes, dark brown hair neatly combed in a ponytail, red cheeks, smooth white skin, red-pink lips not too big and not too thin... "hmmm... kissable" I think. We are dancing. The song: "Mr. Vain" from some 80's artist whose name I can't recall. I'm all sweaty, but it doesn't matter and I keep dancing... So does she.

As I turn I think "damn, I'm to old for this shit".

The music goes on, but it's getting late and I have to work tomorrow. She's thinking the same thing. We exchange looks and we both know then that we want to leave. So we say goodbye to our friends, I put my jacket on, she does the same with her blazer. On our way out we both know what's going to happen next. It's all just a matter of asking. We talk nonsense; which kind of music do you like, what book are you reading, things of the sort. I ask her for her phone number and she gives it to me. We say goodbye a couple of times... Somehow we don't manage to leave though.

I lay on my left side now and the pain on the neck eases. I'm both, surprised and not really surprised to find her lying down beside me, still deeply asleep, her green eyes behind her eyelids now. I try not to wake her up and, as I watch her face --carefully, as if trying to engrave her features on my mind--, I wonder if we'll ever see each other again...