Cool

I was playing it cool when I said I was alright 
With your shiny new pupil now I can’t sleep at night

I witness  your fresh love spring, rush and blossom
In the daily hellos, winks, caresses and then some

I can’t blame you for loving, it’s in your sweet nature
And he’s just so perfect to save, cuddle and nurture 

I hang on to the past like a whitewater raft
Filled with whispered I love yous and laughs 

But I don’t know this river, I don’t have a paddle 
I’m drifting away, lost and wounded in battle

You fell in love, never meant to  be cruel
I said it’s alright, I was playing it cool

Self-inflicted

I peeked behind the curtain again
Wanting to be wrong
Knowing I wouldn’t

Embers warm and hissing still
Masochist voyeurisme 

Such infatuation, desire
And tenderness between you
Sweet concoction to lace
This blade forged in the fires
Of my own lust

No dim in your eyes
No tremor in your voice
No recoiling from my hand 
Coulda shoulda been
A paranoid spell

But it’s really you
Yearning him
And it’s really me 
Writing this
Isn’t it?

I staked my heart        I did
You’d never make
Love                           to another
Stories
A fool                          out of me

How I feel right now

Shredded and wilted tobacco 
Bracing and aching for the flame
Hunk turned to husk with one lie
Emptiness spreads like a swarm
Ruptured at the seams again 
Bawling in the rain in the park
Heartbeat recedes, barely a whisper 
Caresses like razors I’m bleeding

Mined Love

Grinding buzzing in the air 
Ravenous thirsty affair
His fingers pulling on hair
Not mine

He’s got the hang of it, so quick 
Swipe right, share album, click
The perfect angle on that dick
Pic

Male in heat eager and spry
Wings unclipped, bound to fly
Insane of me to cry
Now

That knot in my gut so tight
Sleep eludes me late at night
But my heart swells at his sight
Still, always

He feels mine and I feel his
Everyday I crave his kiss
Eternal marital bliss
Mined love

'Twas the jog before Christmas, when all through the Loire,

chapels were bustling preparing their choirs.

The sun was shining in a sky blue and crisp,

my strides quickly turned from sluggish to brisk.

As I ran through the fields my heart beat like a racket,

could I beat my best time? Would I finally crack it?

I flew past the storks and the doves in a flash.

The wind compelled me, I was quick as a flash.

Crossing the end line like a marathon winner,

Finally ready for a succulent Christmas dinner!

Ao teu lado

Se você já chorou por nada,

Eu chorei com você

Se você procurou o significado nas linhas da sua mão,

Você estava nas minhas

Se você já amou o silêncio,

Eu escutei com você

Se você olhou as suas memórias na água corrente,

Bebi com você

Se você decide buscar no mundo, tesouros,

Vou sorrir sem hesitação

Se você volta com as asas rotas,

Eu vou te dar as minhas

Se você não volta,

Vou me lembrar de você

Wednesday

I met you on a Wednesday at the break of fall

We danced with our eyes an inaudible ball

Your handshake so steady, your accent so blunt

I felt my cheeks quiver, you pulled quite the stunt

By spring we were lovers, defying the odds

By winter cocooning in our own little pod

Today on a Wednesday I remember just how

You said I was yours and you know...

You were right

Prend le temps

Embrasse-moi tout plein comme si de rien n'était

Comme le printemps qui fait de nous son carrousel

Serre-moi plus fort, plante-toi ici là

Mes soupirs d'homme tu récolteras

The Wall Ball Poem

                  The ball rose to heaven with levity and praise
                  An instant of savage perfection and grace
                  Beyond the white line, caressing the wall
                  Turning and spinning, a hornless black bull
                  Leather on skin in a painful embrace
                  Squat off the deep end, worship the race

Roughly Mine

That weightless silence and I hold my breath
Lower lip glistening like a ripe honeyed date
A handful of your hair,
The warmth as you exhale
An eyelash falls, sends me over the edge.

My lips meet yours, a bit frantic and cruel
Your clothes melt away, they're nothing but dew
I reach deep in my lair
Your moan breaks like a roar
Villainous flash at the end of the storm.

Fingertips glide over your skin like mist,
A map drawn with sweat now shows were I've been
Illicit confession
In invisible ink
Tells all you belong, to no one but me.

Set Sail

It must have been yesterday I found my cove in your chest

Your moon changed my tide, I set sail in your quest

I’m gone baby gone with the smell of your skin

And the shimmering light in your eyes, are they green?

I stumbled upon your pool at the break of dawn

Unchained my past, to the ledge, and let go

The world rushes by and all I see is your face

Diving deep in the warmth of your embrace

Whatnot Lost Friend

Seven full moons have lit my new path, since the day I held you close for the very last time.

My heart now floats and my lungs sing; I've taken a road trip in the greening of spring. I make love in a cottage and eat pancakes once a week. It’s true, I am happier than I thought I could be.

But... this foreign object refuses to leave. It took months to swallow past the knot in my throat, now it's stubbornly lodged in my gut.

My head’s in the clear, my heart’s got wings, but I miss you all the same, you were someone to me.

I wish we could meet at the bar down the street, where the dress code is light and we toast not with water, but with the heart.

The Heart of Winter

The snowflakes latched on to me this night as I ventured home
Beautiful and cold, like a swarm of frozen kisses falling from the sky

It was a winter gust that brought you to my door
Two frosted hearts without hope



In spring we blossomed,
by summer we were parched


In autumn the fall,
the leaves were all lost




Now it's winter again and your voice rides the wind
It's your howling I hear in the empty streets

I stare out the window, into the purple night
And wonder how much longer I can hold on to this warmth.

This night

I sat on the floor outside your door, awaiting your return with nothing but a four-leaf clover on one sleeve and my heart on the other. I tapped timidly at first, but as the minutes turned to hours I knocked with my fists and the growing realization that I was, really, alone.

Nothing stirred in the darkness but despair, all I could hear was my heart beating through my ribcage, erratically. As the cold seeped through my coat and chilled my bones, I knew it, the four-leaf clover had let me down, you weren't coming home.

And so with your scent lingering in the air, I pulled myself up and walked down the stairs. Hoping to see your face at every turn. It wasn't until I reached the street outside, under the gloom of this cursed night, that I gave up hope.

You just never came home.

Arrest me now

I clutch my chest with the sheer strength of a thousand men,
Afraid my heart will pump itself into cardiac arrest.

I cannot fathom and cannot bear
La idea de un mundo sin tu hermoso ser.

Your love runs deep within these bluish veins,
It gives me goosebumps, shivers and strength.

I long to hold you and make you warm
Make you the happiest man alive.

Forgive this selfish, foolish mind
Cuddle my heart and never ever
be apart. 

The Fear

I cleaned out that old closet under the stairs where we used to keep the stuff we didn't want, but couldn't bring ourselves to throw out for one reason or another. That broken lamp, a wobbly chair and the hardcore winter boots you bought me. Not once did we go where there's snow.

Of yours I found nothing but dust. I would say fading memories of us, but some are much too vivid. The apartment no longer resembles that nest we built with a student's budget and the excitement over buying a generic coffee machine. Everything is new and shiny, all your old shit has been thrown out.

Except that here I am, writing about you once again. No, I don't love you.

I don't hate you either. I just wish you never existed.

You see, I don't know how to function anymore.  I don't know what being a good guy is and I certainly don't know how to do the right thing. I don't know when to give in and when to give all, when to resign and when to push through. I don't know how to LOVE.

You didn't take my heart, you took my compass. And here I am fluttering uncontrollably between two gusts of wind and the looming storm overhead.

I am not lost without you, I am lost because of you. And finding my way back to love has proven to be the single most difficult and lonely journey I've ever embarked on.

As I float adrift in this ocean of doubt, my greatest fear lurks around me like a shadow in murky waters.

It's the dread that keeps me staring at the ceiling all night,
the horror that clutches my heart with a bony grip
and squeezes tauntingly

The fear that I've become you. 

Three

Everything comes in threes, thirds and troikas.

Three meals a day

Entrée, plat, dessert

The three-minute egg

Veni vidi vici

Liberté, égalité, fraternité

The truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth

The three Furies

The Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost

Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice.

One might argue that seasons come in four, but truth is, we spend a third of the year wearing coats, a third of the year wearing shorts and the other third not knowing what to wear / We spend a third of the day working, a third of the day sleeping and a third of the day doing everything else / Third parties, third degree, third time’s the charm.

Does love come in threes too???

Forget love triangles, threesomes or third nipples.

I mean to love mind, body and soul.

Can love occur without admiration, lust and tenderness?

Can love flourish without respect, passion and caring?

Can love survive without reason, desire and emotion?

Everything comes in threes, except when it doesn't.

Goodbye

If I had my way I'd never say goodbye. It's such a sweet sounding word though, isn't it? It would rhyme with lullaby, but sounds like a raspy croak instead when I say it.

Goodbye is, actually, just the beginning of life without you. It's the cork that pops and then your heart pours out. No amount of glasses could ever be enough to contain this overflowing loss I feel over you.

Goodbye ain't farewell, c'est faire mal. The plight of us and the loss of mine.

How can I say bye without your face flashing in my mind, without breaking through the sutures of this convalescent heart?

Goodbye is short for "God be with ye", may He help ye forget that ye once loved me, for I certainly can't. 

Damn I miss being with ye... dimbye my love, dimbye.

I Love

I love how you laugh at awkward situations,
Michael Scott was your hero way before he was mine

I love how you squint in the sun like you're lost in thought
How you're proud of your wrinkles and your stories untold

I love how you curl up into ball at night
And smell sweet and sleepy the morning after that

I love how you put together a magnificent frozen meal
Who cares if you can't cook, you draw smiles with the food

I love how you mock us the bourgeois,
How you toast not with water, but with your heart

I love how you smile, smile big with your eyes
And I love how you cried once, when you said

I love you

Portraits de la rue

Je vois des portraits Warhol de nous

dans les vitrines des Champs

sur les affiches dans le métro

dans les colonnes Morris ils tournent

lentement

Rouge et bleu, rose et violet

Tel qu'un tirage de photomaton spontané

Ton sourire si naturel s’allume et s’éteint

Mon visage s’adapte au maquillage

Côte à côte tes bleus et mes rouges

Je vois des portraits de nous

White ceilings

Yesterday I spent  an hour lying on the floor, staring at the ceiling. It's strange how time seems to slow down when your thoughts are picking at your heart, like tiny nail clippers with their awful snapping sounds.

Yet, the whiteness of the ceiling was soothing. Those rolling waves of white nothingness numb the throbbing pain in my mind and my heart. Although watching the sky would have been much better, I was unable, incapable or unwilling to go outside. My house is my refuge. It was all I had left after losing the war three years ago. From the rubble I built this bunker, from the bunker I grew a home. My house is my refuge, I storm it alone.

At this very moment I wish I was back there, lying on the floor and thinking about nothing at all. Because all I can think of right now is you, you and the smile I robbed from your face. Nothing made me happier than making you happy, making you smile, watching that glimmer in your eyes.

A crude awakening like an icy shower in January, just as you start to pry open the right eyelid that always seems to take longer than the left. The water's got me shivering and panting but I can't help myself, I was suffocating in the warmth of your embrace.

And so tonight I know where I'll be, back on that floor, staring at the ceiling and feeling the aberrant purge of your kisses and your tenderness. No war this time, just a pinnacle of surrender where nobody wins. No prisoners of war, just two casualties. Just... defeat.

Tu ne bois pas

Tu ne bois pas
Aucun appel ne me réveillera la nuit

On trinquera plus jamais de l'eau
Tu ne bois pas

Tu n'es plus là
Le lueur de tes yeux n'allume plus le noir

Ton bordel est nulle part
Tu n'es plus là

Tu ne bois pas
Tu n’es plus là
T’es plus à moi

I miss you so bad

Lame Light

Two cups of poison the color of wine
The texture, the feel of any other night

A whisper, a confession, a bleached out lie
To save you, to save me, to wrong a right

No blanket of stars, no moon in our sky
No comfort, no warmth, just clinical light

You gave me your heart and I gave you mine
I kissed it thrice and held out my hand

Watched it fly away,
away, into the night.

Goodbye
Hold tight
Lie

The Monster

I guess it is, I guess it's me
the monster in this fading - fairy tale
My fingers curl backwards with shame

Shame for the wrongdoing though just it may be
For no good deed goes unpunished
and no love is spared from - me

Not one word or song could ever express
could ever justify, explain, make the pain go away
No lie, no poem, no magnificent spell
can cuddle you at night, say it's all gonna be
alright.

For we must both suffer this fate,
we must rip at the seams and cry out in pain
And burn, burn, burn for what's lost
Cry, fade, let our love go in vain

I am a fade, a beast, a terrifying fiend
Save yourself, don't look back
Leave this wreck, leave me behind

The Shower

It’s on

Both hands against the wall of the secluded stall

In slow motion the drops merge into cords

They dive and lay on my bare skin

A sleek and living satin sheet

There is music in the water

A rhythm of furtive stares

The soap smells of freedom

Lather's a scent of lust

Wash away sweat and fatigue

Rinse out these silly tears

Remember the taste of them lips

A tiny, wondrous, powerful kiss

Night and Day

The warmth of the sun lingers on my face,

Though the sunset’s reds have turned lilac and grey

Our wind wanes to breeze and a whisper

The damp cloak of night around my shoulders

I dig my feet in the Hellenic sand,

Stripped down to my beating heart

Lips parched I face west and wait

In the deepening silence I wait

For the sun to rise in the east

For the light to touch my calves

For its rays to run the length of my back

For your shadow to appear next to mine

A looter in me

I just came back from London, after spending a calm weekend in between the disturbances caused by the riots and looting. A real shame, if you ask me. The complete disregard for authority and the way violence and crime sprouted like bad weeds on an unattended yard got me thinking about the false sense of security and self.

Teachers, women, teenagers, while collar working men... anyone can be a looter, and their subversive and pervasive calling can ignite as quickly as sparks on an anvil.

We can never truly know our neighbor... but can we know ourselves? Are we so sure of ourselves that we can swear we will never blow a fuse?

It's not the bubble bursting that scares me the most. It's rather the way complacency creeps up on us and lays over our back like a live fur coat waiting to jump ship.

We repeat stories to ourselves, stories about ourselves. Stories that make up the fiber of who we are, who we want others to think we are, who we want to become.

Am I really a hard-working, honest, loyal, passionate, brave and intelligent individual? Am I a team player??? The latter seems like the most popular lie in recruitment procedures!

Sure, we all have varying degrees of these qualities, we all have our shining moments. But once you start digging, once you start shredding the so-called fibers of our being, you might have to face some mirrors in unexpected places. And like it or not, those uncomfortable questions about what we do versus what we desire will undoubtedly surface like apples in a barrel.

Do we all really value respect over admiration, honesty over success, love over sex?

Bobbing to fish out the correct answer might be a lot harder than we think. For one thing, water in that barrel tends to be icy cold.

T'es d'où?

Un trèfle à quatre feuilles et c'est parti
Une nuit de mots, salade et lentilles
T'es d'où? T'es d'où? T'es doux partout!

Un chocolat chaud dans la pénombre
Galette des rois et paroles sans encombre
T'es d'où? T'es d'où? T'es si imprévu!

Kuzco, soja et bananes
Deux cent baisers sous les étoiles
T'es d'où? T'es d'où? T'es tout doux, doudou

Mes amours imaginaires

They swirl before my eyes
like them pink elephants
It's a parade, it's a show
Una novela, une émission.

Spin the wheel and let them come,
walking down the aisle,
each one his own.

He who jumps and kicks with me,
who sweats and screams then smiles at me.
He pokes me and giggles
and calls me his cat
He who loves me so, but I can't love back.

The silvery fox with the glint in his eye,
Who makes me laugh and moan, not cry.
He's fire, he's lust
He's honest, he's blunt
He whom I'd love, were his heart his own.

The virtual boy from across the sea,
By far the most beautiful creature I've seen.
He plays with me a fantasy role
A piece to remember, I always want more
To have him, to love him, to have my heart broken.

The dorky and breezy love,
Relentless waves that just won't give up
It's a date, we make love, I feel safe and let him know
We are together but we are not
He loves [the idea of] me.

Here comes my sun,
beautiful, lovable, utterly blond.
The right place at the wrong time,
I love him, he loves me back
Love him enough to stay back

Our love is a feeling,
a touch.
An idea, an obsession,
an unspoken word.

Were it but real.
Mes amours imaginaires...

Grounded

I'd climb to a cliff and scream till my voice ran out,

set sail to my words, little bonfires on the crests.

I'd wait to feel that thunderous roar,
an answered prayer, an echoing thunderbolt.

A slap of wind as it rushes through my skin,
wanes and withers to a caressing breeze.

I'd kneel and grasp the grass and earth,
feel the moistness, taint my nails.

I'm a tree against the backdrop of dark gathering clouds,
proud and grounded, nowhere to hide.

And before the storm breaks out,
before it turns the breeze to wrath,
silence explodes in the amethyst sky.

I call upon you once more,
and then I know you shall not come.

I welcome madness

Still the one

You're still the one who smacked me down
the one who turned my life inside out,
took my love, gave me a scar.

You're still that terrible, savage beast
that sweet playful bear rolling down the hill.

You're still the one who knows me best,
where to touch me, where to grasp
how to hurt me and make me cry.

You're still the one who broke my heart
the one who tore me up inside

You're still the one who fooled me twice
who stole my hope, my dreams, my time

You're still the one who torments my mind
the one who makes me curse this life

You're still the one
the one
you're still the one I love.

Ya No

Creo que ya no te amo.

Perdí el paraguas que me diste,
y ya no compro cereal con trozos de chocolate.

Tampoco veo los programas que veíamos,
ni voy a la panadería a comprar bizcochos.

Duermo en medio de la cama, con dos almohadas.
La que pongo bajo mi cabeza está celosa de la otra.

Creo que ya no te amo.

Pinté la puerta color vino,
y así dejé de beberlo.

Los besos que eran para ti no son de nadie,
se los regalo al viento y al pavimento.

Las risas que bailaban con las tuyas,
son ahora sentadillas y abdominales en el gimnasio.

Creo que ya no te amo.

Ya no sé aletear y he dejado de cantar
Y cada día se siente más normal.

El sol comienza a evaporar este gris invierno,
y con él tu recuerdo.

No volveré jamás a cruzar ese puente,
lo he borrado del mapa y con él los artadeceres de ayer.

Creo que ya no te amo.

Creo que ya no.

Creo.

Hope

Hope is the promise of wind on a scorching desert trail,
and the freezing whirlwind that dusk seems to parade.

At times it's the quiet that embraces me, canoodles me to sleep.
More often than not, it's the deafening silence of my portable phone.

As I stare into the winter sky,
Expecting the sunshine to pierce them somber clouds,
I think of you.

If only I still believed, in wishing upon a star
I would drive out of the city, into the fields
Just so I could wish upon a thousand of them at once.

But instead I lie here in our nest,
The one we built with your paws and my beak,
And I ask God to wash all hope away.

I cannot chase the horizon or the setting sun,
Pop a smile when I think of you, anymore.
I just want to forget you, forget you ever existed,
forget you ever changed and turned my heart to sand.

Hope is one cruel bitch,
Sadist, wicked and filthy rich.

I take her all in for the last time,
take her to our bridge on this winter night.

And as my lungs fill with with the icy cold,
I watch her die in a quiet show.

Bubbles, bubbles, bubbles....
... who ever said hope floats?

Suceso Inesperado

Crónica de un Divorcio pareciera el título adecuado para este blog, después de meses de implacable bombardeo de sentimientos, haciendo de cada entrada un paño de lágrimas, un saco de arena, y en ocasiones hasta apresuradas suturas.

Hay entradas cuyo mensaje ha amainado, un huracán covertido en mero viento invernal. Pero permanecerán aquí, como lápida y epitafio, testimonios de lo que fui y el camino que recorrí.

Cuando inicié Leo, Leono y Leónidas, para hablar de "historias y rituales de mi vida adulta", jamás imaginé que como profecía, este diario me llevaría de la mano en mi camino hacia la vida adulta. Espacio de reflexión, melodrama garantizado y uno que otro destello de mi antes tan característico idealismo. En fin, sea lo que sea, siempre pensé que escribía sólo para mí, pues en la inmensidad de este universo cibernético, ¿quién aterrizaría en mi pintoresco rincón?

Hoy me di cuenta que, ¡hay alguien ahí afuera que de verdad leyó lo que escribí! Y aunque esta noche habré de llegar solo a casa, me haré de cenar, lavaré los trastes y después de leer un poco me enterraré en las sábanas cual hurón en madriguera, no puedo evitar sentirme un poco menos solo, un tanto más acompañado.

Sabes quien eres, tú que no sólo has leído, sino entendido mis palabras... y es a ti a quien quiero dar las gracias con esta entrada. Te doy las gracias porque has encendido una luz en este caparazón de hojalata, y me has enseñado que Leo, Leono y Leónidas es también un faro y un altavoz, and maybe, just maybe, someone's listening in the vast darkness.

Cupid's Dead

I guess I should thank you

For letting me know

It was all just bull shit.

I thought you took it all away,

But it wasn't there to start with,

Was it?

My family, my best friend, my lover

My all too willing enabler

In this sick fiasco of rosy lies

There's no sarcasm here

I truly thank you, for vaccinating me.

For helping me graduate to adulthood.

Alongside Santa's grave

You've helped me bury Cupid.

Were it not for your kind help,

For tearing my skin to pieces and

Charring this meaty, beating organ,

I don't think I could have done it.

Were it not for your encouragement,

Your humiliating torture,

Your selfishness,

Your unbelievably deafening hypocrisy,

I'd still be a fool.

So once again, thank you for opening my eyes,

For slashing Cupid's throat,

And showing me you're so much more,

Than a lying, pathetic and self-righteous whore.