Ni miedo, ni fe

Sé lo que está bien y lo que es correcto. Sé lo que querría que se dijese de mí, El epitafio que querría ver en mi tumba. Cuando deambule buscando mis asuntos pendientes, No querré ver la culpa de todo lo que otros sacrificaron. Al final no pude salvar a nadie, Ni morí a tiempo para verme convertido en héroe. Soñé con una Roma renacida,  y acabé con 2 imperios reducidos a cenizas. La historia se repite: Yo no estoy hecho para estar en la cima. Podría olvidarme de las fiestas, los conciertos, de las bromas que no entiendas, De sentir los latidos con el cuerpo. Podría vivir solo, hablar a las piedras de los libros, las películas, las teorías, las heridas y los miedos. Hacerme pequeñito, Cuadrar en cualquier sitio, sin hacer mucho ruido, aceptar estar cansado y felicidad a fascículos que no terminan de llegar. Podría pensar con la cabeza, Ignorar a mi sistema, dejarlo pasar, quemar los barcos, cerrar la puerta y ponerme a escribir, hurgar en las heridas que yo solo me he hecho, y enco...

I love the basics, But I reject the basic life, For years I thought this meant To light the nights on the fire of disguise, in the multiple carnivals of the masks we dressed, To be the music and the kick, The psalm and the scream, The explosion, the dance, The sun, the star gaze, The run, the walk, the stare, The lift, the stairway to heaven, The highway to hell. Being ready for pottery or take off, Buying a new plant, reading at the airport, Shouting loud in the car, whispering in bed going to a piano bar, destroy our voice at a concert, or just wave our bodies tight to a jazz we misunderstand. Walking through a museum and losing you, to find you sitting, looking at a painting, as if you just realized I was right God exists. Not to cross these out as checklist items. I could do them all and still need a coffee. None of these store any value as they are, It’s the innocent approach with an open rib cage In a berserk pathway to experience. The delicate caress the broken provide. The nons...

How will I forget all the bad things I did to you, All the times I showed unavailable and Hid on the chemistry of a rockstar life  I gave birth and killed, just for the purpose of escape. How won’t I recall, The times you drowned And asked for a helping hand While I was already out of breath. How won’t I think of the love you deserved, And I ran out of, the light you needed I couldn’t keep on, the prays you asked and I shut my mouth, Or the stuff you bared with, Just cause it was me. No I won’t forget those, and they will haunt me, I’ll let those events talk shit, And make me feel I’m not deserving, Starve and binge, and surely kill the sound of my own voice, in the most teenage “I don’t want to disturb anyone” way. Cause I know myself, And I’ll not think of all the times I felt alone, All the times I asked for a tiny space, And all I got was a huge excuse, I won’t recall how much of a side character I was, My mind will erase all the times we stayed home, again, Everytime I asked, ...