La Mentira

El psique siempre reconoce “el momento”, el exacto fragmento de tiempo en que algo cambia en el sistema. Cambios. Momentos. Y el único prerrequisito: reconocimiento.

Reconocimiento de aquella fracción de segundo en que la fe por otro se humano desapareció de la conciencia, huyo, dejo de existir, para nunca mas regresar.

Aunque la existencia de esa entidad es la perspectiva constructiva del humano, tal vez, nunca existió, tal vez fue una simple “construcción” del psique, una ilusión que tenia que morir en ese preciso fragmento de tiempo para poder sobrevivir. Aquellos “constructivistas” enlazados, destinados, conectados, unidos a definir este axioma como “cinismo”, siempre serán los lógicos, porque es lógico actuar por temor, horror, miedo de que la burbuja perfecta que han creado y llamado “mundo” se fracture, con el precioso y puntiagudo alfiler de la de verdad, y detallando el trasfondo, ¿Cuál es la verdad? , aguda tal como es, no existe la confianza en otro ser, solo la ilusión, de que existe esa entidad, sentimiento, conciencia, o razón de actuar en el ser. Es lo que mi ser llama: mentiras necesarias, necesarias, requeridas y precisas, para vivir dentro de la burbuja, para vivir la mentira.

Waiting For You

Nothing is as it should be.

Nothing will ever be as it should be.

And what is the “should” version of reality?

Had things ever been as they should?

No. Our ideal version of reality is nothing more than an illusion.

The definition of perfect could, can or will be applied to the real form of things.

The world will never be ideal nor perfect, only real.

I will open my eyes to reality, so I can stop suffering for a dream that will never come true, for a reality that will never be seen by my eyes.

 My life is just a dream. The rest will be twilight. How ungracious twilight the one I’m now breathing in. God help me, for I can’t do it alone, I cannot convert this twilight into my dream alone. Something is missing. I feel numb. What a magnificent gray area my life has become.

Oh hope, will you ever come back to me? Oh love, will you bring back the colours of the dream I’ve long to live for what it feels centuries? I shall wait for you. And that is all I should do. And to be a lover is all I should be. And to become yours is the candle that leads my way to find you, for  my version of life wont be  an illusion the day I shall come to meet your grace. So this is for you, my unknown love, I am waiting for you.

Senseless

Lover’s description

Heartache’s prescription

Endless towers, breathless hours

Let me see you in amazed, bewildered

Let me through…yourself

Years,

Weeks,

Days………time is countless

Love,

Aches,

Tears………..also countless

Can you…

Would you…

Could you…

Will you….give me one love in this continuous space and time?

                        

                          My eyes will be blind to it, but my hands will

                         Read it easily. Possible means everything.

The Unbearable Truth

Her heart stopped beating

Her soul stopped breathing

But I’m keen to wonder, did her heart really ever beat? Did her soul truly ever breath?

Did she actually live?

Lies lie protectively guarding a mountain of old well kept secrets. Secrets that are best not to revealed. Secrets that killed her. Really, truly killed her.

I must reckon life is full of secrets, but not one like this, not one like this.

Secret? What secret? She denied herself. She denied her truth.

She denied her life, she couldn’t bear to live it, so she denied it, she dreaded so terribly.

So she went on, denying.

She never knew, oh she never knew, the moment she denied it, was the moment she started to die. Her mind was unable to hold the horror of her secret.

It was a downcast.

How sad. It is sad. It was sad. If only she would have grown the strength, the power, then maybe she could have borne to live it; she could have loved to live it.

But in stead of unimaginable joy, she found death, lonely, cold, ungracious death.

I still pray for her. I still remember her.

I still hear the sound of my own voice, “Don’t”. How useless it was, she had made her choice, she decided, she chose.

I still hear the sound of her voice, “I can’t”. She probably couldn’t. But then again, all we are left is doubt, the most alarming ‘ what if’ I’ve ever had the misfortune to encounter.

Two souls found an inevitable death that night. Two souls died with her that night.

She would have been so beautiful. So small. So pure. Not anymore.

Her heart was beating.

Her soul was breathing.

But her eyes never got the blessing of being open.

Sad it is. Truly sad.

Unique Reality

She saw hunger where others saw satiety.
She sought love where others sought hate.
She touched warmth where others touched anxiety.
She felt hope where others felt despair.
Priceless games
Restless hearts
Treasureless lands
The detphs of her psique.
and you?
What secrets live in your guarded mind?
Are you a brand? or one of a kind?
He saw terror where she saw happiness
He sought power where she sought peace
He touched cold where she touched tenderness
He felt trimmed where she felt complete.
Everless reason
Senseless seasons
The bottom of his hollowed heart.
Not ever two souls were most distant to be twined.
In a midnight summer’s dream love happens in a glance.
So this is their reality, unlikely as it is, unbelievable, and madly unique.

Sueños Surreales

Surreal Dreams (One Shot)


Soñe con un tu en trescientas vidas, 
en las trescientas te conoci y sin dudas te ame. 


En las trescientas me ofreciste tu alma y sin arrepentimientos la tome.


Y ahora daria lo que fuera si tan solo en la trescientas y una me dijeras  "yo tambien te soñe".