Sunday, May 21, 2017

FOR THIS HEBREW: Elia Casillas

He rubbed the heart, do you recognize this woman?

It's not me anymore

the nostalgia slides in the snail of the hours,

the space of success is so ambiguous

and my feet are forgotten,

also the eyes,

although the tide swallows us with its killer mollusk

and the cosmos bleeds it the moon,

his shirt is a prickly door

that I will not cross.

I stalk my fugitive,

also the orbit of the dress,

I chase roses and only find branches,

it's drying up!

The black wind remains to me.

I remove the penalty and I dismantle it

I have love in the scapular

and he's groping me,

my misgivings are a mismatch

and I shoe this glassy parenthesis,

in me it detonates the heat


where I consume,

his name flies

plundering me  the thought.

¿Where is God?

Why not stop this scenario that is


I do not find a beam

and I stink this blood craquelada that no longer thinks,

I keep the ashes of my triumphs in a grain of


why I disarm myself

and I eat alone.

Love is uninhabited on the canvas of twilight

and is capped with the sunset,

with his will,

only the voice in the hand breaks

and my organs are solitary leaves

where no one writes.

Someone sucks the notes of the blood,

someone takes my life between their legs,

the mouse reaches me

the poem is close to being someone

and someone awaits a dedication

and in the peaks of Death the time moves

which will not return,

someone always waits and waits.



No comments: