The mirror

She smiles...

That stranger looks lost, defeated

That invader looks strong and vindictive

That lunatic looks insufferable

And she stands, she stands unashamed

Broken, but unashamed

Unwise and naive

But unashamed

Not even the mirror

Has shown her scars

But they are there

And I smile...

Have you?

"...Have you felt so proud to get at the meaning of poems?..." 
Walt Whitman - Song of myself

Have you? Have you tried? Are you reaching the same as me?
I have only myself to blame, lies are choking me again
And away I go, into this horrid night once more
The pieces of my soul too shattered to be found

So have you? Are you reaching the same as me?
Have you seen me?
Have you felt me?
Have you touched me?
Or are you lost as well?

Reaching ... in

I laid my head
barely
listening
to that haunting sound
and my hand reached
the bottom of my heart

Into the abyss
silent, longing
nothing else to give
no trust
no sense of belonging
it is where I got

Light is calling me
but it is too late now
I am reaching ... in

Beautiful violence

a heart that loves its scars
lacks faith in its purpose
and it's following the path
of the beautiful violence
you left behind...

disclosing secrets of a
blood stained portrait
opening the archive
of the beautiful violence
you gave it

so farewell, again.

Saludo

Saludo al tiempo, destrozo natural que deja la desesperanza
en aquellos que aún sueñan.

Saludo a las lágrimas, corrientes de recuerdos
oxidados por el descuido.

Saludo al olvido, bálsamo que cura quemando.

Saludo al destino, excusa mediocre
de los patriotas sin tierra.

Y saludo al vacío,
al precipicio ante los pies de aquellos cansados de caminar
y dispuestos
a saltar.

Lacking self

Dying has a different meaning

when you're choking

withing traces of your soul

Dying becomes desirable 

when hope

has left your heart

Do not reach for me

I'm without my mind

Do not call on me

I'm lacking myself

just...lately

a step away now

from understanding lies

beyond my imagination

and just as the road keeps getting

wider, dangerous, lustful

a laughing phantom stalking me

I find that I don't need you

but still I want your hours

of enlightening pain

there's no poetry now 

that can save me

words turn bittersweet 

in your lips

hands, just too far away to feel warm

still have a fierce grip on my mind

I love you, I desire you

again I call for you

just ... lately