Cuentame

Cuentame la historia que escondes entre tus manos, tras tu espalda.
Cuentame el secreto que callan tus labios, pero que regala tu alma.
Cuentame la historia de los tres cerditos, de la luna nueva y la vieja calma.
Cuentame las estrellas con los dedos de tus manos, y las mias y las de ellos.
Cuentame una mentira tan real que parezca salida de la ficción.
Cuentame los segundos pasados, los caminos recorridos por tus dedos sobre mi piel.
Cuentame el amargo sabor de la cal, pero la gratitud de las abejas.
Cuentame sobre las tardes de abril, las mañanas de marzo, los anocheceres a tu lado.
Cuentame una historia por cada muerte, una palabra por cada tumba, un beso por cada árbol.
Cuentame lo indefinible, la insaciable necesidad.
Cuentame sobre lo que veias antes de abrir los ojos
Y más... y más...

Not yet

If dressed like my lover, Cupid asks for me tell him I'm not ready. That I'm missing the shadows in my eyes. That I hate my dress. That I don't want to go out in prom night. Tell him that I'm not ready, tell him I'm not done yet. That I'm a lady and lady are always late. That I cut my dress into pieces and I'm crying my make up out in my bed. That I got a cold, that is too cold to go out. That I have the fever. That my heel is broke, that I have no flowers.

Make up some story for him, just don't let him in. Not yet.

Someone

Someone that please explains me...




What is life?

When I was young

When I was young, my grandma use to tell me and I wouldnt believe her, to me she always have been old.
When I was young the country was truly green, not that green covered of lies and half trues, no the green you know now, non a green you will ever know. Oh my child, when I was young the thing were so diferent. So right, so wrong. Just like they are suposed to be. My child, my child, when I was young, really young I didn't have to take care of nobody, even of myself and in that beautiful age of freedom and careless playing the country, the grass my dear, the grass was truly green, and the birds truly sang. Oh my child, if only you knew... When I was young.

Keep on living

- And what happens after a broked heart?
- You cry a bit, you get drunk a bit,you get screwed up a bit and then you get on your feets, clean up the dust, adjust your hat and keep on living.

Maybe

Maybe I have never felt it. Love, I mean. Maybe I would never can. But if its all a lie, I demand a compensation, and I demand it with you.

Silent meet flesh

Then was a time when silent meet flesh. They touch each other, they try to understand each other, they try to work each other out. But silence was to shy and flesh was to fast. And then flesh left, tired and bored and looking for something new. And silence was left alone, all by himself, he didn't even have the silence to acompanish him because he was the silence. And in the middle of his quite loneliness he promissed himself that he will make the death of the flesh, that flesh will know him, that in the end, flesh will be back with him and he will be the only thing that flesh could have in the eternity