THE END OF HIS ROAD; AN EXPERIENCE

There is no white, nor red

No light when I close my eyes

There is no white, nor blue

No peace when I close my eyes

Horses running noisily, dirty clouds

Skies falling, people running all around

Then, there is calm and a new beginning

A sunrise and a beach and a little boy

And over there, far away lies his future

And there is a hand, an angelical one

With big wings, and a big smile without a face.

The sun hurts his eyes

And the water caresses his feet

There is his happiness, hope and future

And there is a path and hills ahead

He goes by walking, up and down

He sees the light at the end of the road

And trees and birds and flowers and thorns

But there are blood stains

And there is sweat

And there is growth...cry and laugh

Hope and disbelieve, pray and curse

Green paper comes and goes

Different kinds of skin tones

Prohibition and pleasure, hid and freed

And there is food, yet there is none

And then he flees far away

There is the past, present and future

And more growth, more laughter, more tears

A big screen in front and behind

Music, always music, new and old

And another hand, not so angelic this time

But there is no black, nor red

There is no white, nor blue

There is no light, nor peace

At the end of his road.

CUANDO DEJE DE ESCRIBIR

Ya ni me acuerdo cuando dejé de escribir. Debe haber sido una de esas noches solitarias en la que sentado frente a una hoja de papel en blanco o frente a la pantalla de mi computadora, me sentí más vacío que nunca. Mi mente, como de costumbre, viajando hacia atrás en el tiempo. Rodeado por fantasmas de los que ya no están, recordando los momentos perdidos, las oportunidades no aprovechadas, los errores cometidos y el tiempo que ya nunca volverá. Cerré mis ojos y me transporté, me olvidé de la inutilidad de pensar en el pasado, de lo destructivo que puede llegar a ser el reproche a uno mismo, de la estupidez de pensar que pudo haber sido distinto, de la frustración al recordar que es imposible volver atrás y reparar los errores cometidos.

Creo que dejé de escribir cuando llegó la sequía que nubló mi mirada, cuando los tiempos cambiaron y los jovenes comenaron a lucir más jóvenes, cuando mi propia juventud se marchó prometiendo jamás regresar. Entonces mi vista se empañó antes de pronunciar palabra alguna, los fantasmas voltearon hacia atrás y comenzaron a alejarse hasta finalmente abandonarme, cuando el sello de furia que estampó mi boca me impidió gritar.

Dejé de escribir cuando me quedé solo, rodeado de gente pero solo; viendo como mis seres queridos se esforzaban por adivinar mi interior, sin darse cuenta que estaba completamente vacío.

Y entonces, hasta la pluma se secó. Cayó sobre el papel manchado de rojo, último testimonio de mi soledad, prueba inequívoca que, desde ese mismo momento, nunca más emitiría palabra alguna.

TO LATE TO SCREAM

There is a scream coming out

But I can't open my mouth

Thinking; my words would hurt you

Feeling; my thoughts might upset you

Afraid my beliefs would turn you away.

There is a scream coming out

But I use my hand to shut it down

Breaking sentences I may never say

Holding my desire to let loose free arguments 

Afraid to say things I could never take back.

There is a scream coming out

But my whole body freezes before saying anything 

Trembling at the idea of being misunderstood

Frustrated by knowing issues that could prove me wrong

Collapsing without hope for my lack of courage.

There was a scream coming out

But its time has come and gone!

HOLLOW

When I open my eyes and you’re not there

I feel my emptiness inside and out

Nothing to hold, nothing to remember

Only painful tears are coming from my heart

When I close my eyes and you’re not there

The black is darker but I can’t cry

I kept no pictures, nothing I can touch

Only the agony thinking you went far

My anxiety increases from time to time

Dim is my mood when I’m filled with angst

But I keep trying, over and over

When I attempt to move on finally with my life

And my heart feels so hollow when I know that you lie

That it’s true when you tell me that I’m the only one

When you change conversations to avoid what is real

I get no answer to my question: what I do with my life?

BROKEN

When you can feel the pain

That physical pain that involves no muscles

An unbelievable pain of the soul

The excruciating storm that navigates the mind

With the uncontrollable sensation of having lost everything

But incomprehensible to the rest of the world around

Think for just a moment, you’re not alone.

Because it irritates more when you suffer in loneliness

Even with a thousand people surrounding you now

Knowing that they don’t understand your bitterness

And they feel annoyed by your arrogance and misery

They soon forget no one is immune

One way or another, the agony will take us all

Harassing us until death, we know we can’t escape

Believe me old friend and when you are looking in the mirror

Know without doubt that I always be there

Ready to hear you

When you can feel that pain.

DEPARTURES

I don’t want to get up

I want to lay like the night hasn’t ended

Relieved of my dreams never reached

Be loved as I never was

And believe that is real.

I don’t want to get up

I want to feel the silk on my body

Keep my eyes closed and see what I want

A different world and a different time

And believe that is real.

I don’t want to get up

I want to think that if I stay still

If I’m capable of creating a different reality

I won’t be hurt this time as badly

And still believe that is real.

I don’t want to get up

I don’t want to go back to the lost days

I don’t want to remember that it is too late

To change what I did and who I am

And still believe that is real.

I don’t want to get up

I don’t want to open my eyes

I don’t want to ever talk

Of my pain and my scars

And still believe that is real.