More than words.

Literature, mi materia preferida, desde que empezé el año pasado y me di cuenta cuánto me gustaba escribir. Cada instrucción de poema era una alegría. De a poco fui empezando a poder expresarme mejor, con el correr del tiempo, y de a poco fui dejando esas instrucciones y por separado empezé a volcar las ideas en cuadernos, papelitos, puertas, brazos escritos... 
El otro dia estaba viendo los poemas y me di cuenta de el gran cambio que hubo. Me asombré, antes me daba miedo mostrar cosas así, me sentía vulnerable; Hoy, me siento vulnerable quizás, pero no me importa porque se que es lo que soy, si gusta bien sino también. Asi que he aqui todos los poemas que tuve que escribir para Literature desde el año pasado... un omelette de ideas, sentimientos, momentos de mi vida, una metamorfosis, nose.

Alice in wonderland

I built an armour

around myself

long time ago

when I was hurt.

What I mean

Is not always what I say.

Music speaks for me,

releases me from my chains.

I'm afraid,

of getting involved,

because the higher you are,

the harder's the fall.

The one who hasn't risked

has never won.

I'm surrounded by people,

but still alone.

21 things I hate about you

I hate your stupid obsession,

and when you play the guitar.

I hate your cool T-shirts,

I hate your baby smile.

I hate it when you talk to me

as if I was just a child.

I hate it when you suddenly kiss me,

and your cosy bear hugs.

I hate I never know what you're thinking,

The way you look and decode my mind.

I hate you understand everything,

and still play the fool, don't know why.

I hate you know you're no good to me,

and care about me that much.

You know you got me on my knees,

for my own good you don't cross the line.

I hate you're bothering in my head everyday,

How every song speaks about you.

I hate that just with your prescence you make me happy,

How memories can steal a smile from me, when I'm in my bathroom locked.

How tears can't fall as easily as that.

I hate that I'll never forget you,

That I'd rather suffer than letting you go.

How if I was in love I keep questioning.

I hate I don't hate you at all.

Love

Striking sweet addiciton

Sliping through soft lips.

Catches you unprecautioned,

Then the world falls to your feet.

As tequila in a lonely night,

leaves you insane for a while.

When it's over, just want to forget,

From time to time memories sorround with no escape.

As a rollercoaster ride,

at an imaginary amusement park.

Ups and downs, scary fun, risks are ran,

Your heart is gambled,

emotions can´t be handled.

Sweet stinking lies,

That's what it isn't,

That's seduction,

is completely different.

Love is a much more risky game.

Where there's no defense and with guns we play.

Even though you can end devastated.

I still believe it's worth it.

Time

Broken pieces fixed with time.

Feelings written on a line.

Chasing games and lots of lies.

There'll be no moon

A cold blue ocean

saulty whales sing,

thir sad song sounds

are now drowned by the ships.

Tiny predators,

Huge whales,

Hiding places,

No escape.

Knowing there'll be no moon,

in vane, avoiding harpoons.

The ocean covered in red.

As the dawn of life in the water reflects.

A silent melody sounds, I mourn.

Waves have calmed down, I mourn.

Moon still hides, I mourn.

And darkness, reigns it all.

I mourn.

Before I fall asleep

The world has turned off.

Peaceful obscurity tucks me in,

As a silent lullaby is sung.

Before I fall asleep,

Mi imagination flies wildly.

Sweet thoughts,

Surrounding my safe place.

Wishes floating in my mind.

In love sighs.

Past memories escape from my pillow,

like fugitives on a secret mission.

Regrets come to me as grey clouds.

They fog my sight.

Future desires open the sky,

As a bright full moon,

A goal I must have.

Reality starts to fade

As time passes by.

Now I'm in the kingdom of dreams,

where fantasies come true,

and nightmares too.

I lament

Reality is hard,

I know it.

There's no escape,

Just face it.

I lament drugs,

which seem to be a quick solution,

though they simply are

a temporal distraction.

A seductive but dangerous addiction

that hises with sweet and fake promises

of a smiley future, easy answers.

A shiny yellow sun in a stormy clouded sky.

Everyone worries about the situation.

I, lament our reaction.

Outloud comments heard as meaningless words.

Expressing thoughts but not looking for solutions.

Our life can be changed by one little word,

and one simple action can transform our world.

(...)

Ficticious stories help me escape for a while,

From this complicated world where we are.

They help me cope with difficult times

and to be optimistic about what will come.

Thoughts run through my mind like scared doubts,

which try to hide the fear of trusting too much.

Meaningless words escape from my mouth,

But my real feelings stay behind.

When I was younger, I saw my daddy cry

And curse at the wind, He broke his own heart

And I watched as he tried to reassemble it

And my mama swore, That she would never let herself forget

And that was the day that I promised, I'd never sing of love

If it does not exist

But, darling, there must be an exception.

Well, maybe I know somewhere, Deep in my soul

That love never lasts, And we've got to find other ways

To make it alone, Or keep a straight face

And I've always lived like this, Keeping a comfortable distance

And up until now, I had sworn to myself

That I'm content with loneliness

Because none of it was ever worth the risk

But there must be an exception.

And I'm on my way to believing.

I don't know how to say this... But I don't feel like you do.
I hate to make you feel like this, I never thought I could make anybody feel it.
But slow down, or the fall will hurt even more.

Extracto de "Le Mort" por Maru F.

Ella lo mira, y lo espera. Hace años que lo espera, sin respuesta alguna.

Los días pasan y su rostro se embellece mientras que su corazón envejece. Ese chico no es conciente del rubí que pierde delante de sus ojos. Inocente, pero a su vez estúpido. Estúpido por no mirar enfrente de él y ver a la persona más maravillosa que en cuestión de meses puede perder.

Los versos de ella ya no tienen sentido. Su inspiración, se ha ido.

Las palabras de éste pobre chico son dejadas en el olvido. Su musa, se ha perdido.

Los dos, no entienden que uno aprende a amar, no cuando encuentre a la persona perfecta, sino cuando aprenda a creer en la perfección de una persona imperfecta.

Los dos son ingenuos. El niño quiere ser el primer amor de su amada. La niña quiere que su amado sea su último amor. Los dos reconocen que no pueden vivir separados. Los dos se aman a la distancia. Los dos conocen el verdadero significado del amor.

Me enorgullesco de ser quien publique el primer pedazo de tu obra.

Mariana, zorrita sensible y "rarita", sos todo una poeta. Gracias por confiar en mi. Te quiero loca.

Effy: "It's dark. I can´t see. The curtains are closed. There´s a man, sitting on a chair... He's facing away of me."

John: "What if he leaves? What if he's not there? What if he was never there? Open the curtains, and let the sun shine in."

He aquí lo que a nadie le importa.

Ahh, nono. Nosé que me pasa, pero la cosa es que voy a dejar de tirar pequeñas "hints" de mi puta vida, porqué me harté y ahora tengo ganas de escribir. Y SI A NADIE LE IMPORTA, LO LAMENTO. Y nadie mira esta cosa, blog, como se llame... Y no me importa tampoco.

Como empezar... Si son las hormonas, espero que se vayan rapido, porque esto de estar triste, despues agresiva, despues tierna y cariñosa, después alegre... NO. Si, estoy en transicion triste-agresiva; y por definicion este ciclo vuelve a empezar, pero bueno, no queda otra.

Me harté, de la gente. Si, me harté de andar haciéndome la boluda, me harte de que se hagan los boludos, me harté de las falsas amistades, me harté de preocuparme por gente que no se preocupa por mi, me harté de los hombres, los viejos, los nuevos, los inexistentes. Me harté de mi familia, me harté de mis problemas, me harté de mi viejo, mi vieja, mi abuela, el colegio, mi casa, todo, TODO. Me harté de ser una pelotuda, me harté de darmela de "kapa", de querer saber todo de todos (quizás solo de algunos). Me harté de este amor platónico, de hacerme la peliculita, de crearme esperanzas, me harté hasta de contar la historia, de matarme intentando saber que piensa tal o cual, de que si se dará cuenta de lo que no puede ser MAS obvio, de escaparme a mi burbujita de faso, otra realidad. Me harté de mentirme, de cegarme... Me harté de intentar. Me harté de las omisiones, de los quizás, las indirectas, de sacar mis propias conclusiones, me harté de los grises, los intentos a medias. Me harté de sentir que las palabras se vuelven barullo, de esperar sentada, de los ruidos, de extrañar gente, de lamentar cosas, de darme pena. Me harté de necesitarlos, de ser dependiente, de necesitar un abrazo, necesitar a tal o cual persona en tal o cual momento, de no ser capaz de decirlo. Me harté de todo. Basta.

Me parece que de ahora en mas, las cosas de frente, bien explícito, aunque no sea la mejor manera, la mas seductora, simpática, lo que sea, es lo que necesito por ahora, ya que no tengo a disposición una maquina de leer mentes o transmitir mensajes claros.

Los necesito y tanto tiempo me mostré independiente que ya dan por sentado que no me hacen falta.

Los necesito, y lo odio.

Y me harté, de todo.

.

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