C'est tellement mystérieux, le pays de larmes...

Dessin # 66

2008-02-12T17:02:00.000-05:00

Hoy abrazo de cenizas este no-lugar.
Hoy he venido ausente,
yo y mi soledad,
el cadáver y su sombra,
desentrañando la angustia de mi vientre,
enlazada en tres capas de noche,
esperando.

Cansada del espacio entre los cuerpos,
de la sal de tus labios inertes.
Llorando mi luto de arena, Egoista.
Amenzante.
Como un castigo,
de sobrevivir una esperanza suicida.
Y escribiendo en el silencio
para que las palabras no se las trague el olvido;
esperando,
muriéndome,
como si fuera ella...

como si fuera alguien más.

Dessin # 65

2006-11-13T21:49:00.000-05:00

Esta ciudad está hecha pedazos.
Y mi lugar es aquí,
enterrada entre su polvo.
Descubriendo mi mirada entre su espejo de asfalto,
deshojando el otoño de mi cuerpo.
Detenida entre los vidrios,
quebrantando su sintético silencio.
Antes que llegue el olvido,
antes que el oráculo y las ruinas.

Antes que las cenizas se las lleve el viento.

Dessin # 64

2006-11-13T21:11:00.000-05:00

Conciencia

Me arrullo cada noche en la
tranquilidad de la incerteza,
y su hilo invisible que entreteje
mi dulce esperanza suicida,
levantando con su sombra ciudades
sobre abismos y tormentas,
a tientas y sin ruido,
para que no se revele tu oráculo silente,
y mi certeza no se derrumbe hasta el oprobio
como una niña inundada,
derrumbándome entre lágrimas y arena.

{A Phobetor...(el último)}

Dessin # 63

2006-10-29T23:00:00.000-05:00

Y los gritos, que no abarcan el espacio
            de tu ausencia;
Y las albas, débiles de llanto;
Y las noches, que le nacen a tus
            ojos de ceniza;
Y todos mis muertos, disfrazándose de lluvia
            y destrozándose en tu puerta;
Y los labios, consumidos en la sal,
            desgarrándose de angustia;
Y mi vientre, contenido en esta diéresis de olvido;
Y el impulso, deslizándose entre ruinas,
            enterrado entre su polvo;
Y los miedos, enlazando entre latidos las dos
            lunas;
Y la arena, diluyéndose en mis manos con la
            espuma de Morfeo;
Y la tinta, derramándose entre estrellas dibujadas en tus dedos;
Y el secreto, entre tumbas invisibles,
            epitafio a tu sepulcro inhabitado;
Y el espejo, de abrumantes multitudes, invocando tu fantasma;
Y el dolor, esbozándose en tus brazos,
            abrazándote las venas;
Y mi sueño, como arte de tu sueño, como mimesis
            de nada;
Y el nocturno, de infinito abismo,
            inefable de su circulo silente;
Y el recuerdo, que se vierte,
            fatigante;
                        inservible;

Y mi voz,
            Y tu eco,
                        Y el silencio,

Que son todos
(y siempre)
mis vacios

y tus sombras.

{A Phobetor}

Dessin # 62

2006-09-11T22:33:00.000-05:00

Entre les cendres silentes Je me resigne à comprendre que tu es allé vivre dans d'autres morts.

Et la mousse nocturne se déplace entre mémoires, assourdissante.

Et le silence...
Il n'ose pas parler de l'amertume.

{A Phobetor}

&______________________________________
[Leer en Español] [Read in English]

Dessin # 61

2006-08-24T21:33:00.000-05:00

Como retrazando,
impertintente,
cada rasgo.
De las olas y humaredas
de incerteza,
espumeantes.
Contra playas y varajes
y los barcos detenidos
en el vidrio.
Desde espejos suspendidos,
desligándose,
Como noches entre albas,
Aplastantes.
De sentidos en reposo,
entumecidos entre viceras
y sal.
Como cuerpos sin los rastros
de la lluvia,
como ausentes.
De las sabanas que se arrastran
sofocantes,
deshaciendose
entre el sueño y los respiros.
De mis torpes manos que dibujan
en tu espalda
marionetas y teatros del olvido,
escondida,
enterrada,
agotada de silencio,
de memoria que se escapa como arena,
como el agua,
en corrientes sin un mar,
en corrientes de la nada.

Dessin # 60

2006-08-20T14:35:00.000-05:00

I am guilty of every passion I have ever borne, and given birth to, and cared for with dream-like constance, and pushed with pain and ardour from my tattered womb into a nightmare world. I am desperate to follow each obsession, to breathe the anxiety, to eat out of the misery of angst and suicidal hope; to induce in the gluttony of despair in every wretched obstacle, and delight in the regurgitation of hate and abjection. I am never limited, never moderate, never indiferent to this exploding life that seems to blind the eye that ever dare look inside its ravaging impulse. I am in constant search, persistently following every sense, a decided believer of the slightest urge. I am no longer dependant, no longer a follower, no longer embracing the crowd that putrifies without purpose or objection. I am emancipated from the tension, unbound of my humanity and its cage-like corpse. I am the tarot fool. A victim of hazard, unbound of my restraints. Not a pawn, not a sequense, not a road. I am a gap, the unwanted breach. I interrupt, question, diverge and re-establish. I am one, individual, alone; antonym and metaphor of self. Restless, distraught, agitated. I unsettle with it all. I amuse in the slightest of ocurrences, I scream and shout and speak with not a hint of lukewarm disposition. I do not fathom prudence, I am not at grasp with formality or class. I am the margin, I tatter in the verge between intellect and madness. There is no custom or averge within me. My currency erractic, my only constance, spontaneous. I have no market, there is no trade for those like me. We are pristine of the stain that bequeaths all premature death. We have forsaken our birthmarks, outrun the fatal destiny that was set to walk beside us. There are no traces of our past, no influence, no maternal instict to subside to. We have severed the enslaving ties with our shadows, ridden of a faulty limb, set loose of the standard of perfection. We are voice, breath, adrenaline; uncorporeal, lacsivious. We are one, individual, alone. We are power, strength, caos. We are origin and death. We are one and against. We are absence. Phantom. Wraith. We are above.
We are one, individual, alone.

We are legion.

Dessin # 59

2006-08-13T22:48:00.000-05:00

Juana le grita a Astrid con una duda pequeña pero infinitamente importante:

"¿Y Yo Qué?"

Y tu que, Juana?

Tu? tu no necesitas que te lo digan. Tu necesitas que te lo griten. Necesitas saber que tu tambien me enseñas muchas cosas bonitas por que eres un ser BRILLANTE... brillante como la estrella del principito... como hecha de acuerela, como lo que se le queda a uno en las lagrimas despues de leer un libro hermoso. Y despues, eres el interminable silencio.

(Para mi pequeña rana inefable)

Dessin # 58

2006-08-06T17:38:00.000-05:00

While sitting here, in absolute silence, watching their inexpresive glances sway by I realize that I have spent ridiculous amounts of time in this crowded place, with no particular purpose, and that all the twitching thoughts inside my head are not interpreted by others as any different than the strange clothes I'm wearing or the intriguing blue strikes in my hair. I don't care much of whatever they might have to say about me, but I am very worried that so many moments of growing illumination and self-growth have been shared, and silently evaporated, only in the company of perfect strangers.

Dessin # 57

2006-08-06T02:40:00.000-05:00

Call me when you're sober... (and make up your freakin' mind)...

♪ "Right Click > Save As" To Preview Evanescence's New Song♪ (You can thank me later).

Once again, she brings me back to life.

OCTOBER THE 3RD.

Dessin # 56

2006-07-27T03:50:00.000-05:00

List your top 12 last.fm artists and answer the questions about them.

01. Damien Rice
02. The Cranberries
03. Fallout Boy
04. Evanescence
05. H.I.M
06. Peter Gabriel
07. Zero 7
08. Flowing Tears
09. Yann Tiersen
10. Bjork
11. Squirrel Nut Zippers
12. The Cure

What was the first song you ever heard by 2? (The Cranberries)
"Linger" probably, since it's from the first album, and one of my most loved one's from The Cranberries. This song is jusy plain amazing, regular version or live version or mtv unplugged version, it is just captivating and heartfelt.

What is your favourite album of 6? (Peter Gabriel)
I'd have to say it's "Us" since it has most of the songs I love by P.Gabriel, like "Come Talk To me", "Love to be Loved", "Blood of Eden", "Digging in the dirt" and "washing of the water" however, it still lacks "I grieve", "More Than This", and "Make Tomorrow" so it's a tough choice.

What is your favorite lyric of 2? (The Cranberries)
That is hard question. Cranberries is probably my favorite group of all. I'd have to say the lyrics to "Linger", "Shattered", "Pretty", "Twenty One", "Zombie", "Empty", "Free to Decide", and "Analyze".

What is your favorite song by 7? (Zero 7)
"In The waiting line". I heard it first while watching Garden State and have loved it ever since, I loved the group with just listening to this song. It's amazing and sia furler rocks.

Is there a song of 11 that makes you sad? (Squirrel Nut Zippers)
Two. "Anything But Love" and "I'm Just This Side of Blue" the lyrics and the voice are just plain shattering.

What is your favorite song by 8? (Flowing Tears)
There are quite a few. Lets say "Love Song for a Dead Child", "Under the Red", "Vanity", "Rainswept" and "Waterbride" in that particular order.

What is your favorite song by 10? (Bjork)
That is really hard to answer. List: Pagan Poetry, Joga, Venus as a Boy, So Broken, Army of Me and Violently Happy.

What is your favorite album by 1? (Damien Rice)
I've only listened to "O" so that would be it *^^*

How did you get into 5? (H.I.M)
My Exboyfriend, Daniel...he showed me a song or two and I fell madly, deeply in love with the band. first song I heard was "Resurrection" from the "Razorblade Romance" album.

What is your favorite song by 9? (Yann Tiersen)
La Valse D'Amelie. I am absolutely OBSESSED beyond comprehension with that song. It is narcotic. Sad and Beautiful.

Who is your favorite band member in 12? (The Cure)
Robert Smith, Lead vocals and frontman for the band. His voice is so passionate and different.

What is a good memory concerning 4? (Evanescence)
I just love the band. I guess the peak memory would be meeting Amy Lee and being able to talk to her. It was short, like minutes, but the band is amazing and her voice is so sweet even when she is not singing.

Is there a song by 3 that makes you sad? (Fallout Boy)
"Sugar, We're going Down". Sure, the rythm is empowering, but the lyrics make you want to bash your head in.

What is your favorite song of 1? (Damien Rice)
The Blower's Daugher.

How did you become a fan of 3? (Fallout Boy)
I Like their type of music and I read the book from which their album's name (From Under The Cork Tree) came. So I guess I was interested and I really like it now.

Which of the 12 has influenced you the most?
I'd have to say all except damien rice and fallout boy since I've to listened very few songs by them.

What artist makes you the most happy?
Easy: Squirrel Nut Zippers. Most are just plain upbeat.

What artist makes you the most sad?
All of them. I have to admit it, I am into sad music. I just connect with it more.

What artist makes the best dance music?
Squirrel Nut Zippers I guess because I coul not dance to any of the other 11.

Which artist have you liked the longest?
The Cranberries. Since before I was born and for 18 long years of my life.

Which artist have you liked the shortest?
Damien Rice. About 4 months or so.

Are there any artists you will still be listening to in 20 years?
I guess most. If one must leave, I'd guess it would be fallout boy, but not because I want it to.

{Copy, Paste, Personalize and Publish!!!!}

Dessin # 55

2006-07-22T17:19:00.000-05:00

I hate that you just sit there.
Silent.

As if my words where so unbelievably unstructured that they could never make sense to your perfect self.

I hate that I have broken my words beyond your comprehension.

And I love you, but you make me want to cut myself, to remind myself that all my worldy imperfections are real...

...oh so painfully real.

Dessin # 54

2006-07-15T19:03:00.000-05:00

HOLY SONNETS

X.

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee
Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so ;
For those, whom thou think'st thou dost overthrow,
Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me.
From rest and sleep, which but thy picture[s] be,
Much pleasure, then from thee much more must flow,
And soonest our best men with thee do go,
Rest of their bones, and soul's delivery.
Thou'rt slave to Fate, chance, kings, and desperate men,
And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell,
And poppy, or charms can make us sleep as well,
And better than thy stroke ; why swell'st thou then ?
One short sleep past, we wake eternally,
And Death shall be no more ; Death, thou shalt die.

John Donne

Dessin # 53

2006-07-03T23:55:00.000-05:00

False Memories

I realize at times I am a cold, tragic accident waiting to happen.
Filling myself up with whatever I can gather from the remnants of anything that guilt may leave behind.

And everyday-life is like kissing a mask.
Empty.
And silent.
And stinging with haunting echoes of a painful past.

I have to admit that I am stuck in reverse.
I have to admit that it is pointless, and that in the middle of the chaos all that is left is the ridiculous will to survive for any fraction of a second, knowing the fatality of such an attempt.

I have chosen to ignore whatever I believed in.
I have chosen to comply to un-rules.
I have chosen false hope and self deception.
I have chosen to forget.
To Deny that I forget.
To Forget that I ever denied.
And finally, to believe that whatever I forgot never existed.

I wish I had Two-Minutes hate. (I wish It would take two minutes to throw away all the self-anger I have kept).

Its not 1984. It's 2006, and this may not be Oceania, but dammed be this sick soul, if it is not true that you constantly feel like Big Brother is watching you.

_____________________________________________ ...

"In all the useful arts, the world is either standing still or going backwards."

1984 - George Orwell.

Dessin # 52

2006-06-13T23:10:00.000-05:00

Un cafe y dos cigarrillos.

El humo y el silencio podemos repartirlos.
La amargura en el pocillo habrá que compartirla.

[Gracias Chi. Jim Jarmusch - Coffee and Cigarretes.]

Dessin # 51

2006-06-06T21:06:00.000-05:00

I know that lately I have been broken, and chaotic and wordless.
I've been trying to survive my tempest of tears and delusion
I've ran from my perfect obsessions
I've hollowed every song with a piano and made them empty pictures of my tired self.

and you just sit there.
pretending you don't see me
pretending that I was never the world to you.

because in my world...
there's you

and then there's everything else.

Dessin # 50

2006-04-26T21:13:00.000-05:00

You've stained my lips with dust and sealed them shut with velvet lace.
I cannot speak the words that rot away inside this place.
You have become the wound that bleeds and aches with every breath.
I cannot hide the scars, they whisper crimson words of death.
You slash away my hands, you fear their touch will cut your skin.
I cannot wash away their putrid scent of raging sin.
You sit inside your head and kill the memories in silence.
I cannot help but weave with them my theatre of inner violence.

[My other "blog" @ http://catharsis.artificial-night.net and click on "Ballad of a Lonely God"]

Dessin # 49

2006-04-11T04:30:00.000-05:00

We are like adam and eve...

Expulsed from our perfect paradise only to prove that we could make a whole new world from the misery it caused us.

[i.love.you.]

Dessin # 48

2006-03-29T18:46:00.000-05:00

And for the sake of all that is still unbroken within me, I've strived and urged to get rid of this narcotic infection, the kind that eats away the hollowness of any silent space that may rest within.

I am yet afraid to speak. Afraid there are no words I can say that your indifference would not dare soon take away. I fear the sudden death of all emotion that your empty words seem to cast upon my weary self. Fear of growing used to the wounds that all this pain has inflicted upon my velvet skin.

Because inside the crimson sea in which I am drowning, you are only images of winds and storms.

...because your silence has rendered me beyond any possiblity of self perfection.

Dessin # 47

2006-02-27T22:30:00.000-05:00

Mujer de arena...

Tanto tiempo me llevo descubrir mis castillos de silencio. Mi muralla de polvo.

Dessin # 46

2006-02-09T21:40:00.000-05:00

Sometimes I am afraid that "I love you" won't matter anymore.
Sometimes I am afraid that there aren't enough words, enough tears.
Sometimes I am afraid I haven't said everything I should have said.
Sometimes I am afraid of becoming vain and empty in your eyes.

Sometimes I am afraid that "I love you" won't matter anymore.

I am afraid *I* won't matter anymore... to you.

[Para mi cho. Mi Hermosho cho.]

Dessin # 45

2006-02-01T18:09:00.000-05:00

Maldita sea esta angustia de no encontrarte, de no tenerte.
Malditas sean tus sombras que me persiguen y me enceguecen.
Maldito sea tu silencio, tu voz inexistente.

Maldita sea yo.
Maldita sea mi estupida necesidad de verte.

Dessin # 44

2006-01-29T15:00:00.000-05:00

It was silence.
Silence after you left.
Silence after I stopped playing the piano.
Silence as he asked

"What is it that you need? What is it that your heart misses the most?"

"It's complicated" I said. "It's just complicated."

"Its not complicated. It's just a phrase. You are thinking about it right now. Just tell me."

And all the emptyness I had tried to keep silent, the emptyness I faked not to know, ignored to survive, came pouring out of me like rain.
All the chaos I had strived not to release, and the pain that hat yet not breached the walls I built to keep me sane, disperesed and flowed within the empty space and every echo slashed the stitches I had sewn to stop myself from bleeding into nothingness.

And all the while he just stared into my shattered glance.

He tried to understand how it could be so complicated. He tried to break the silence that we had been immersed into, while my inner world fell apart with not one quiet corner to conceal my naked truth.

"Him" I blurted. I escaped.

"I need him. I... I haven't seen him for six years."

He sat there. He was now the one stifled, muted. My splintered, subdued words rushing and screaming out of every hollow of his mind.

And after endless seconds of dispair he only whispered in a fragile voice:

"You love him. You really do love him."

Dessin # 43

2006-01-29T14:08:00.000-05:00

Have you forgotten how you left?

...have you forgotten how you left ME?

Dessin # 42

2006-01-17T01:54:00.000-05:00

Instructions for Silence

The mind must be relaxed, concentrated only in the inside screams that rush through the empty chaos. The body will pour itself in shattered glasses and dance upon the crimson wine to empty pentagrams of untouched pianos.
Hands must sit upon the the velvet fur of a thousand purring cats and shiver slightly and armoniously along with the ballet of unbroken respirations.
Then, in fragments of an hourglass, the whispering voice will draw its flame upon the intoxicating smoke of burning cigarrettes.
The walls must imediately sink in seas of nothingness and only mirrors may surround the naked soul that rests upon the moonlit sand.
The candlelight should be enough to cast a shadow from the ethereal lines of void that trace the wounded lace that holds the tattered rags of soul together.
Finally, in one swift motion, the razorblade must bid the shadow free from all binding veins of silk and the totality of the inner poison must bleed in hints of masquerading teardrops through hollow streets dressed in autumn-gowns.

Dessin # 41

2006-01-17T01:05:00.000-05:00

Top 5 more-than-bizarre things about me...

5. I have a strange "thing"/"fetish"/"infatuation" with self-injury. It's not about the drama. It is about the mistery and meaning of this type of human expression and liberation.

4. I have full, deeply philosophical discussions with my cat... in french.

3. To me, sad things are more beautiful than anything else in the world. To cry out of the beauty of something macabre is to reach an entelechy, to achieve an almost impossible aesthetic and intellectual conception that seems irrational and sinful in the eyes of common men. I like to think I am part of the select and privileged group of people that have gone this far.

2. Almost everything I write comes from things that hurt. Self-search is a difficult, painful voyage into the deeper realms of what we really are. It is only this that inspires me to write.
Happiness and laughter seem ephimerous sources of inspiration compared to wounds and scars. After all, wisdom is scar tissue in disguise.

1. I am a dragon. Literally. No need to explain this any further.

[For my dear Anyanka, because mirrors deserve to know what lies across their shattered sea of glass...]♪

Dessin # 40

2006-01-17T01:04:00.000-05:00

It's time I stop bringing myself broken flowers.

We all have the right to dream.
But we cannot ignore it when everything arround us is dead.

Dessin # 39

2006-01-06T14:31:00.000-05:00

En este sutil silencio interno, me pesa bach, me pesa en el alma.
Ella nunca entendera
Ella no es el mar
No es la maga
Ella es solo un capricho

Y tu eres el mio.
Necesito ser la obsesion de alguien de nuevo.
Mi triste soledad me muestra ahora su cara mas amarga, la que tenia escondida, como la luna, antes de que me aventurara a decubrir la infinidad de su espacio.

Dessin # 38

2006-01-05T01:07:00.000-05:00

Sometimes it is wise to believe this world of sorts is made of sorrow and pain.
It is but what my fragile senses and broken shadows have perceived.
Invasions of fear
Angst
and depression
that cut
and
bind
our decaying souls.

We are but alone within ourselves.
There are voices that scream within our heads
And we strain upon the stage uncognizant of our inner-revelations.

Oh my dark angel, what shall become of thine abandonment?
Pianos and candle-lit rooms have not been magnificent if not for thy melancholic presence.
And in thy absense, all the beauty of the world is grim and petty in its own existance.

And all the while our words and songs have only yet conceived you.
And every masterpiece is heartless if not for thy deepening abjection.

You have revealed to us the decadence of time and thought and all their horrors would be dim outside your mirrored glance.
The passion of a mortal can only be reached through the immortal of your voice.
You have been perfect and alive among the spirits of the dead.
What but vanity, that dying is better in your wreteched solitude than a blindfold existance in thy unlit ways of unbroken masquerades.

Dessin # 37

2006-01-01T23:44:00.000-05:00

This is the story of a girl who is dying to live.

Dessin # 36

2005-12-29T02:17:00.000-05:00

I am complete and perfect and utterly rational and you are all just nightmares...

Nightmares of a murdered god...

Dessin # 35

2005-12-25T22:26:00.000-05:00

The suffocating nothingness 'tween thy guilty words and my lingering gaze. Oh, twisted violin, may sweet death come from thy wicked strings of fate.

Dessin # 34

2005-12-25T21:55:00.000-05:00

And here I am, hurting myself like a fool. Because I guess bleeding is what's kept me alive. Maybe its time to face the truth; time I left because there are no longer reasons to stay.
I've spared you the complicated words, I've hid their empty taste. Because I've created a need of you to fill the darkened space. And now the silence is full of goodbye's between us.
I've lost the will to speak, the will to cry. There's nothing left of me to scream inside my head:
I've poured myself for you in every needless sacrifice.

Dessin # 33

2005-12-18T19:57:00.000-05:00

I have been left on empty
Void of feeling, numb to pain
Been cut in so many complicated ways

A point of desperation
another dreamless face
Sitting here upon this cradle counting deathwishes away.

Dessin # 32

2005-12-16T21:28:00.000-05:00

The angst of bleeding my ridiculous existance to find nothingness.
Have I smothered you to the point of inexistance?

Dessin # 31

2005-12-13T14:19:00.000-05:00

I love you more than I should
Love you more than is good for me.

Dessin # 30

2005-12-11T21:04:00.000-05:00

Reasons not to kill myself right about NOW:

1. Star-sprinkled nights.
2. Absinthe and Absynthe.
3. The books I have not yet written
4. Grave of the Fireflies
5. Trust by The Cure
6. My broken little heart that longs to keep beating
7. Link and Navi
8. Alana y Osiris
9. Sad songs that make you wish you WERE dead
10. Cranberry Juice
11. The kimono I'm going to buy when I visit Japan
12. Violins and Pianos
13. Tatsu, Tariq, Gitsu, Beta, Takashi, Gimmich, Kensuke, Yuuta.
14. Belinda, Roberta, y Nachito.
15. Duomeilike, Jajara, Baene.
16. Full 80's y los Daiquiris de Fresa
17. Unsterblich by Die Toten Hosen.
18. Todos los idiomas que aun no he aprendido.
19. Los miedos que me quedan por superar.
20. La casa en el arbol con link.
21. El principito.
22. Las palabras que aun no he pronunciado.
23. El tango
24. Sen to Chihiro no Kamikakushi
25. La *premiere* de Narnia...JAJAJA SUFRAN LOOSERS!!!
26. Las canciones que me encanta cantar.
27. La banda cranberrie-uda que no he logrado hacer.
28. Los otoños y la nieve.
29. Juan David y Daniela.
30. My immortal by Evanescence
31. The Alchera Project
32. El concierto de Jamiroquai
33. Los recuerdos: Halloween, El Salto, La noche, Lo espontaneo y el Beso.
34. Las hadas y los poemas
35. Phantasmagoria y Shigeru Tamura
36. Taking Over Me by Evanescence
37. Skrik de Edvuard Munch.
38. El Dragon Roll.
39. Victorian Drawings and Gothic Landscapes
40. The Pit and The Pendulum by Poe.
41. The days I have not yet spent without you
42. Los tomos 2, 3, 4, 5 y 6 de À la recherche du temps perdu.
43. Cats
44. My Black Viper srt/10.
45. Mi bar con duomeilike donde ella canta jazz y blues y servimos ajenjo.
46. La carrera de la que aun no me he graduado.
47. Howl's Moving Castle
48. H.I.M
49. Angel Sanctuary
...
50. The fact that even if you forget me, in the middle of all this pain, I still love you.

[thanks to http://paper_flowers.blogspot.com/]

Dessin # 29

2005-12-06T01:28:00.000-05:00

Voodoo Girl

Her skin is white cloth,
and she's all sewn apart
and she has many colored pins
sticking out of her heart.

She has a beautiful set
of hypno-disk eyes,
the ones that she uses
to hypnotize guys.

She has many different zombies
who are deeply in her trance.
She even has a zombie
who was originally from france.

But she knows she has a curse on her,
a curse she cannot win.
For if someone gets
too close to her

the pins stick farther in.

["Voodoo Girl" by Tim Burton
The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy and Other Stories]

Dessin # 28

2005-12-02T17:32:00.000-05:00

I know what I say you will probably not understand.
I know you don't understand my fears,
I know you don't know anything about what Im dying to say.
You don't know how I shudder of angst and depression.
You can't imagine how Im breaking inside, waiting for you to speak,
To free me from these chains of desperation and anxiety.
I know I need you to need me, but you don't.
And I know I'll consume myself in this pain.
I'll let it bury me again and again.
For you.

Im hurting myself for hope and for ilusion.
Im hurting myself for you because it keeps me alive.
Im hurting you because I belief that its the only way to feel this.
I need to see you. Need to touch you. Need to hold you holding me.
I need to know you know this.

I need to be wanted and loved.
I need to know that whatever I say is heard. By you.

Dessin # 27

2005-12-01T22:51:00.000-05:00

Forgive me for fearing everyday that we have not yet spent without each other.
For the way Im breaking down
For my lack of reason
For everything I wish for
For this stupid necessity of you
For wanting to break the silence
For not being able to resist the pain
For not being as perfect as you thought I was
For these tears
For the anger and depression
For the uncertainty
For missing you
For wanting you to feel the same
For praying everyday the phone will ring
For wishing I was everything to you
For hating that you are everything to me
For becoming what I promised I would not become
For not being able to erase the memory of you
For loving you more than is good for me
For all the time I gave you that you didn't need
For everything I didn't say
For all the things I want to share with you
For the smiles and the laughs
For my fears and insecurities
For letting it all happen so fast
For wanting it to keep on being this way
For all my calls and little messages
For insisting
For silencing myself
For my songs
For my unwritten words
For the un-edited poems
For wanting to scream your name
For this emptyness I feel without you
For my lack of self-control
For the nothingness
For numbing myself from this pain
For pretending
For standing in the waiting line
For trying to absorb everything you are
For listening
For forgetting nothing
For my obsessions and my self-indulgence
For letting myself believe
For finland
For searching for you everywhere
For who I was before we met
For being so outgoing
For looking at you the way I did

For wishing I could leave this all to the wind
...Because you know I can't

Because you know it'd kill me.

[A MI niño finlandés]

Dessin # 26

2005-11-30T22:59:00.000-05:00

Tal vez alla, despues de muchos años
En algun pais escondido, en alguna ciudad invisible
Por calles que no recorremos mas que en el recuerdo
Te encuentre a ti
En un café
De aquellos solitarios
De fondo un tango
Tal vez un jazz
Y entre los dos se dibuja una sonrisa
Furtiva y pasajera
Una de esas cosas que se ha creado entre los dos
En la costumbre de no vernos
Y de siempre tener lugares comunes.
Y tal vez, alli, hablemos de nuevo.
Para que surgan de nosotros palabras que solo nosotros entendemos.
Perdernos en ese lugar que no comprendemos
Y luego, como siempre, un adios
De los indecifrables.
Con esa dulce incertidumbre de los años
Y del tiempo
Que parece no ocurrir entre los dos.
Solo la seguridad de un encuentro
De las horas
De las palabras
Del silencio.

[a oscar.]

Dessin # 25

2005-11-29T15:08:00.000-05:00

Tu y tus misterios, tu y tu locura, tu y tu caos, y tu y esas cosas que solo son multiples fases de ti misma.
Tu y todo.
Tu y esta nada.
Tu, como un espejo.

Y luego tu en mi silencio.

[a duomeilike]

Dessin # 24

2005-11-29T15:00:00.000-05:00

Te sumerges en la sombra de tus miedos,
Y te cavas una tumba,
Y te haces un entierro,
Mueres de nuevo en tu silencio.
Por que incluso tus palabras
Se contagian de aquello que no existe.
En tu piel y en tus respiros
Te conviertes en la nada que eras antes.
En la arena y en la espuma que ensordecen
Y el ligero viento que la arrastra.

[A mi niño finlandes.]

Dessin # 23

2005-11-28T22:12:00.000-05:00

Estoy oyendo el silencio que hay entre estas tres paredes y el espejo.
Mi opuesto se ha hecho polvo entre la resonancia de tus ecos.

Dessin # 22

2005-11-28T22:11:00.000-05:00

Its captivating how the heart can bleed to the rythm of waves under a decadent sun. The darkness of night breaks away from undetermined horizons to fuse with delicate lines of infinite sea. Along this devious waters, the colors spread themselves for artists of the mind.Restless. They blend upone deserted lands. Where silence and the foam are one. And moonless skies are only engrams of past nightmares. Freudian theories are inexistent and you and I are only extensions of each other.
And then again, you are the one extension. A mirror of myself. And Id love to break that mirror. Id love to put an end to this ridiculous pretention. But you should know by now, the mirror has two faces, and to conquer you would, to murder myself, be.

Dessin # 21

2005-11-28T22:10:00.000-05:00

For a moment I try to take a grasp at words that can define what my life has become. Inherent, they disperse through this rigid, suffocating smoke of guilt, that tends to escape beyond my line of sight.The light has cleared out, and through the aging curtains, an artificial dawn I have created for myself.
Locked. Locked within my own temptation and fear. I try hard to ignore the music that haunts me, the delicate sound of violin strings. Don’t look back. Save yourself from this underlying madness. This acquired weakness has become a path to my falling grace. I cannot find comfort in the subtle lines that draw her face. She’s dying. Silently slipping away from me. Indulging to the rest that longs to hold her. The stairway creaks with inexistent steps. I have been standing here, by the window, in hopes of casting shadows off myself.The air is turning colder, her breath has ceased to give me life. I lay beside her, sleeping, unaware that tears of angst have kissed her lips. I look beyond myself to find that nothing lays within me but her own hand, reaching out to touch me with forgiveness.

Dessin # 20

2005-11-28T22:08:00.000-05:00

Walking down the dark hallway, where shadows have lingered between the old french curtains. The wasted colors of the drapes have been covered with dust. Light has become absent and forgotten, yet some soft glow remains.But maybe its just me. Maybe this place is only cold and lonely, And all that I see are reflections of the sound of her voice.

Broken glasses on the floor. The sound still echoes inside my head.And all I can see is her face in pain. But no one is there. Its just me in this haunted room. Haunted with memories I cannot forget. Haunted with grief… grief and sorrow.

There’s just ashes where the fire used to burn. In the middle of winter nights. In the middle of winter souls. Always to remain silent, Always to remain in bitter agony. Always to be left, where the fire once died away, died with her. And I can remember the crackling fire. The warmth of her body as she lay in perfect emptyness.

Filled in black hollow spaces, the dream of a thousand cats… the night she cried and whsipered, that which none could bare to listen. Darkness, the hidden enemy of fears. I stand evocked by the films that play soundless inside my head…

It started like any other night… it just ended in tears…

Dessin # 19

2005-11-28T22:06:00.000-05:00

"Cual es tu nombre?" pregunto intentando ocultar el nerviosimo en sus palabras.

Y con la mirada perdida en un punto que se desvanecia en el ruido de la lluvia respondi:
"Soy ajenjo, como aire de verdad en boca ajena de dolor.
Soy mar, de navio extraviado en tormenta sin testigo,
soy dios, lagrimas ocultas bajo un reflejo vacío,
Soy humo, quien ahoga en la densidad de palabras que se pudren en el gris de esta ciudad,
Soy mentira, causalidad de guerra interna escondida entre heridas infectadas por amor.
Soy silencio, gritos de tus labios consumidos por la sal de la prudencia.
Soy cantante, en protesta del olvido en el que habita un triste viento……
Soy solamente eso, solo lluvia en tu desierto…

Y si te dijera "María", sería como un segundo de eterna confusión."

Dessin # 18

2005-11-28T22:05:00.000-05:00

You once said you like how I sang.
That my voice was like water.
And it is.
It rains.
It slides across the empty silence.
Painting everything with sound.
It flows.
It coils in waves and foam.
It streches out and hides the setting sun.
Dispersing(reflection)and soft.
You said my voice was soft.
warm?
is it warm?
it’s undecided.
but perpetual.
it reaches where you are.
in silence.
and plays for you.
Quiet.
It absorbs you.
and you.
you said you couldn’t sing.
but I know better.
I hear.
your mind.
the deafening silence.
and it sings.
it sings to me.
a lullaby.
of wasted words.
uspoken.

Dessin # 17

2005-11-28T22:03:00.000-05:00

I´ve been here.
Quiet.
Listening.

And you, are there.
Colliding.
Fading.
Dispersing through the rigid air.

And sometimes,
Some lies,
are true,
for either one of us.

Dessin # 16

2005-11-28T21:56:00.000-05:00

Eres tu.
Y soy yo.
Es un solo lugar.
Y todo esto entre nosotros que se choca y se disuelve.
Tu respiración y los miedos.
Estos secretos que no tengo como decirte, que no tengo por que esconderte.
No es como me miras.
Es como me piensas.
Lo que ves y no es.
Porque yo ya me he ido.
Si hay palabras, yo no las encuentro.
Tu solo vives y te creas.
Yo destruyo cada cosa, cada nombre.
No te tengo.
No te llevo.
Solo voy.
Esperando que me olvides.
Que me muera en el silencio que ha quedado entre los dos.
Solo espero no encontrarte.
Que te pierdas.
Que te encuentres.
Sin mi.
No se como dejarte.
Mis errores y mis faltas.
Mis impulsos.
Te me escapas.
El olor de tu existir.
Sutil y sofocante.
No lo entiendo.
No lo entiendo.
Te lo juro que no entiendo.
Y me callo.
Me encierro en este cuerpo de papel.
Vacio.
Vacio.
Vacio.
No te siento.
Solo noche.
Una estrella.
Y tus pasos que se marcan tras de mi.
Calla.
Para.
No me sigas.
No hay un rumbo.
Esta angustia. Ya es costumbre.
No verte.
No escucharte.
No sentirte.
Solo tu.
Y no yo.
Y talvez tampoco tu.
Es como un tango.
De los tristes, como todos.
Sin palabras, solo historias.
Y un violin.
Y sus cuerdas que deslizan.
Sus sonidos.
Como tu.
Que me escuches y me entiendas y te mienta.
Como lagrimas.
Que se escapan.
Como mar.
Como el mar interminable.
Como olas que se alzan y se estrellan en si mismas.
En su escencia.
Este infierno.
Me persigue, este infierno.
Que no duerme.
Indeciso.
Si te digo? Si te digo se confunde.
Se convierte en mis heridas.
En tus llagas.
Cicatrices.
No me pidas que te cante.
Yo solo tengo estos abismos.
Infinitos.
Y nombrarlos es quebrarme.
Como un eco y la avalancha que le sigue.
Impetuosa.
Como piel que se desprende cuando muere.
Esta desnudez artificial.
Que te escriba y no pronuncie maldiciones sobre mi.
Solo dejame.
Solo quedate y no andes.
No lo intentes.
Solo calla.
Solo para.
Un secreto.
Mas mentiras.
Y dolor.
Son razones.
Este espejo; un reflejo.
Sin adios.
Como lucia.
Tu me entiendes pero yo no soy asi.
Sin saber que de mi es real y que se extiende de ti mismo.
Tu respiras y yo muero.
Ya no hay tiempo.
Todo esto que me sobra.
Todo esto.
Todo esto.
Al viento.
Al viento y a su vuelo. Impredecible.
Como tu.
Como yo.
Como esto que recorre mi cabeza y no se acaba.
No se agota.
Se desangra.
Mis heridas y tus llagas.
Tus reflejos.
Esa nada.
No te tengo.
Te me escapas.
Y se pudre.
Un café.
Un libro y dos frazadas.
Soledad.
Soledad.
Soledad.
Soledad.
Y esta muerte.
Esta muerte que no calla.
Que se extiende, con palabras.
Esta muerte que se vive cada dia, en esta nada, en este encierro que te escondo.
En esta angustia.
En este mar.
Solo hay miedo y cicatrices.
Cicatrices de esta muerte, de esta muerte de los dos.

Dessin # 15

2005-11-28T00:14:00.000-05:00

For all that it's worth,
I love you more than I can understand.
I desperately need you more than is good.
Im breaking apart from the fear of loosing you.
Decaying in this silence, in this doubt.
Waiting here like I promised I would never do.

Because you are all that makes sense to me right now.
And you have questioned all that seemed to be perfect in my life.

Dessin # 14

2005-11-27T18:54:00.000-05:00

I race through some places and suddenly find myself in a memory. A subtle smell has taken me back to things that I could not perceive before. Such a delicate trace of essence has brought to me things that I though had been placed deep inside the realms of unstirred oblivion.
Something has called and images have resurrected. They have borne life into me.
And there inside my mind I have touched you again.

And all the places that have rushed inside my head have become such an intricate part of you.
I have drawn myself upon them for the pleasure of indulging in this painful retrospections.
Because I have lost that time in which you where untouchable. And only seeing you would destroy the deepest silences of my heart.
And here I am. Inside the world that used to belong only in my dreams. Inside a realm that only you could reign.
And then again it seemes to me that unretrievable scents are that's left of what these fragile places where.
Scents of things we never shared in rooms where we were never together.
Because you where hidden deep inside my mind from others, but danced upon my thoughts like silent films.
And I have weaved myself with you in things that never where for us.
Where smells had only existed to fill the emptyness arround us.
To become what truly mattered:
Whatever I have been because of you.

Alchera # 39 [Option Number Three]

Dessin # 13

2005-11-14T17:11:00.000-05:00

I hide inside you because you open yourself for me.
I retrace every wound that lets me remember.
Because scars are sometimes things that you hold on to.
Scars are things that let you know you are alive.
I wrap myself arround the edge of things and let them touch the deepest parts of me.
To tear this outer skin and let my inner self pour out of me like rain.
I numb myself to everything arround me so all of what's inside can free itself from rotting silently.
Because tears and words sometimes become so wasted, so overrated.
Because I find in you the exit that sometimes words can barely light.
You create yourself for me, in me.
You draw yourself upon my dying skin and help it breathe amidst this suffocating guilt.
In silence you have helped me scream,
In darkness you have helped me see.
I hurt myself in every single search within.
I have inmersed myself in you because you open up my life for me.
Because my twisted logic seems to work for my chaotic surreality.
And I guess that deep inside you I can see
The Fragile Beauty of Pain.

Alchera # 39 [Option Number Two].

Dessin # 12

2005-11-14T16:50:00.000-05:00

Esta cuerda hecha de arena.
Mis paginas en blanco que se aferran, como el viento, a mi silencio.
Solo te veo,
te descubro en tus palabras.
En lo que me escondes.
No mas ser la maga.
No mas por que no quiero ser yo sino solo parte de ti.
Deslizarme en ese mar, y formarme con tus olas.

Este caotismo de siempre.
De no saber que decir.
De no saber como decirlo.
y solo llorar.
Por que asi es este sentimiento de vacio.
Me invade este impulso infantil de terte.

Solo de tenerte.

Dessin # 11

2005-10-26T22:59:00.000-05:00

Te quiero de una y mil maneras
Te quiero sin tiempo y sin espacio
Solo como parte de este caos que me invade
Y que se cruza en tu universo
Se desprenden de tus mundos los silencios
Y atraviesan
tus espinas y tus capas
Y se transforman en respiros
Que disipan este aire sofocante
y se tornan a extenderse
y llenar cada vacio.
Y se convierte cada uno en parte de este ser incomprensible
en un reflejo de mi misma y de esa soledad
de esa soledad de la que tu y yo hacemos parte
de ese ser una y mil cosas a la vez
para poder existir aunque sea como breves instantes
de aquel desideratum de tu alma y de la mia,
como luces que alumbran levemente
la plenitud de todo aquello que algun dia nuestros multiples seres se sumaran a ser.

Dessin # 10

2005-10-26T22:24:00.000-05:00

Everything that happens in a moment.
In that precise second when our shyful glances crash upon each other and dust away so fragile and naive.
When we touch each other clumsily with our sight, grasping only the suffocating air between us.
With this shaking fingers that trace the image of your inexistent face.
And the absence of you within my desperate obsession.
Your eyes, and the face with no name.
This need of wishing only to absorb you inside me before the decaying nightmare of this annonimity fades away.
And how your smile breaks away my artificial silence and draws itself upon recurring memories inside my mind.
That all this movement flows beside me and I am lost inside this staticness of you.
Because inmersed inside your mortal world you are only images of nothigness.
And my words have not yet reched you.
And you exist not with my realms of possibility.
But the staticness inside me is stirring with the chaos of your presence.
And all I hear inside me are these questions filled with angst and I just need to hear your voice and all their answers will lie within their echoing vibrations.

Dessin # 9

2005-10-26T22:17:00.000-05:00

What it is to truly break people.
To destroy who they are,
To dig deep enough and then rip out the very life from their insides.
To end with the will of going along.
To undo the meaning of who they are.
To erase the very essence of their being.
and then walk away.
In silence.
Because we have all had our hearts teared down.
We have all been shattered in unmendable ways.
and then this poisoned emptyness that has caved it's way within us
spreads, like a virus, that feeds upon the superfluous hearts of men.

Dessin # 8

2005-09-20T16:10:00.000-05:00

Je te recherche dans mondes qui n'existent pas.
Dans univers imaginaires et cités invisibles.
Tu me chantes.
Je Souris.

Et demain, tu n'existeras pas.
Parce que tes yeux,
Ils sont comme étoiles mourants.

Dessin # 7

2005-09-18T19:20:00.000-05:00

La rutina
Y este peso agregado de no tenerte.
Lo odio.
No se que quiero hacer.
Y lo que se que quiero nunca ocurre.
Tu lo sabes. Mas que nadie.
Sobretodo.
Tu.

No tengo que decirlo
Por que se que lo sientes
Aunque lo calles.

"et une autre qui s'enmerde"
Esa soy yo.
La del otro lado.
La que todo lo ve y nada lo entiende.

Sigo creyendo.
En ti. Solo en ti.
Tus palabras saben a muerte.
Solo en lo que crei que pudo ser.

Ojala todo.
No es todo, por que no sabes que todo lo sabes.

Dessin # 6

2005-09-17T13:42:00.000-05:00

Because I need you more than you need me.
Because I want you more.
I know.

Because we moved too fucking fast.
I think I really had to wish to make this last.

I'm sorry, please forgive me.
Believe me if you would.

Because I cared way more.
Because I really felt that you felt so much more.
I know.

I'm sorry, please forgive me.
Believe me if you would.

I'm sorry, please forgive me.
Believe me if you would.

Sorrow, Box Car Racer.

(but you won't. I know.)

Dessin # 5

2005-09-17T13:37:00.000-05:00

Si. Creci.
Pero no tanto.
No te has ido.
Sigues aqui
De la manera en que seguias antes.
Para mi,
por que para ti
ya te has ido.
Y se ha perdido
Todo esto
Que yo creo poder rescatar.
No te vayas.
No me dejes en este vacio.
Con las palabras
Pudriendoseme adentro.
Por que hay tantas cosas que no se como decir.
Hay tantas sonrisas que no se como mostrar.
Por que hay tanto dolor
que quisiera compartir.
Por que hay tanto de ti que quisiera sentir
dentro de mi
para ti.
Solo esta muerte.
Solo ese pedazo de mi que llevas adentro sin saberlo
Que abanono para ti. Por ti. En ti.
Solo ha muerto aqui.
Y palpita adentro, muy adentro de tu olvido.

Dessin # 4

2005-09-15T17:57:00.000-05:00

Encontrar ese espacio.
Pintarlo de azul, de fuego.
Habitarlo en todos sus sentidos.
Cortarlo en pedacitos
y enterrarlo en una tumba
para que exista
siempre
Solo en tu nombre
Inclusive en tu ausencia
En este terciopelo
En el pan de oro
En el sena... por donde fluye tu entrega.
Y que se desborde
en la llama
para que exista
siempre
para que creamos en los milagros
y seamos realistas
Y que en el corazon del hombre
Y en el vacio del corazon
Arda externamente ese fuego.
Azul, dorado, rosa.

A Yves Klein. Monocromía y Fuego.

Dessin # 3

2005-09-14T22:30:00.000-05:00

Solo en mis sueños existe esa posibilidad de que muera y no te encuentre.
Aqui, en mi surrealidad ya te he perdido. Una y mil veces.
Que te piense y te recree entre mis juegos, que no existas y te sienta, en silencio, como siempre en las noches de este infierno, donde crece esta angustia y este miedo, la memoria sin sentido, es solo anacronía de este sentimiento.
En aquellos dias, fruto de la fé de una ilusión que no ha nacido, dias que se tornan en recuerdos, en olores y el lugares que olvidamos y que tengo, a razón de no perder mi locura y mi existencia, la necesidad de perseguir, como hojas en el viento.
Solo un agujero. Todo se esfuma y se revuleve en un intento de escapar de la costumbre de no verte. De lo que se hace costumbre a fuerza de habitarse a odiarlo. La resignación no ha sido una meta, pero puedo ahora decir que la he cruzado con cierta gracia, con las ganas de no perderte y ese silencio tuyo que no he sabido sino interpretar un poco a la manera de Schopenhauer.
Quiero no tener que desearte. Quiero que el deseo se disipe y se convierta en voluntad.
Pero he ganado la experiencia de equivocarme una y otra vez y de empezar cada intento con ese deseo incontrolable. Pero asi es el deseo, se expande, inclusive, al subconciente, a lo careciente de forma y contenido, a lo que creemos no conocer y a lo que pretendemos conocer.
Vaya idea estúpida de la pretension. De pretender que se cree algo de la nada, por que la nada, como la oscuridad es eterna, y la luz, la existencia, solo un efímero intento, una ridicula pretensión de esta minuscula e irracional idea de que existe algo tal como "la humanidad".

Dessin # 2

2005-09-13T21:01:00.000-05:00

Combray era triste, triste como sus calles...

Marcel Proust, Á la Recherche du Temps Perdu.

Dessin # 1

2005-09-09T14:59:00.000-05:00

I just slip away, from this image I had made myself of you, from this stupid idea that I would ever mean something to you, and that your silence kept behind the things you didn't how to say, instead of nothingness...instead of this riduculous nothingness that I have made myself for you.

And there you are, consumed inside youself, believing everything you hear inside your head. Trying hard not to listen to anything I say, because then... then every fear you hide will be spoken and spoken fears can come true.