Mouths introduce, insinuate and talk about who we're
even in other languages, even in silent.
My mouth doesn't need dictionary,
my mouth doesn't respond to my name when you're in front of me.
Mirror, mirror on the wall, your smile is mine too.
The well-know 'I do' shouldn't exist before than the fucking 'Nice to meet you'
II. THE MOON IS STARVING
Who say to us that full moon is not an empty one?
Who told us that shooting stars make our dreams come true?
We name full-something someone that hasn't eaten anything ever.
We make wishes to stars which have already gone.
We're stupid so we can't tell if a fullest moon is not
a collection of lovely starving stars.
III. WHOLE MOON EVER
If the moon shine so hard
how can I lose the way home, Dorothy? How?
Who can see these pieces of bread in the sky, Hansel?
What can I do if I don't judge myself?
The deed to be alive is uncomfortably easy.
-HERE- the moon is my boyfriend hiding mostly all my sky limits.
IV. THE MOON HAS HANGOVER TOO
A glass of wine in my hand is bleeding
three beers into my bladder are playing with our balance,
a tear of whisky has born in my cheek
and there are some remains of salt and lemon between my lips. Stinging and healing.
to be mutual, being one, being two
to be or not to be, to have or not to have
A hangover is often a thirsty head ,
to be honest, I'm a worst headache for my dad.
Sex is red, like
the Red Light District in Amsterdam, like
a slap in her ass, like
white turns into red in our eyes when we were wildly excited,
However, the gas station lights are right:
with sexual things, I can speak any tongue.
VI. TURN DOWN THE MOON
Sometimes sleep isn't a waste of time.
Sometimes you're aware
and the cure of anxiety comes.
New Orleans is in ruins
although they would try to build and rebuild every building, erection, place, trauma:
The past has became past. Eat me up, cause I have expiration date.
Sometimes dark circles go unnoticed because teeth are bigger,
with eyes wide open I fell asleep and I could feel it.
Fotografía tomada en el decepcionante Nueva Orleans, el saxo sonó allí, al menos para mí, más triste de lo esperado. |
Vuelo 6124Y; MIA-MAD Iberia Líneas Aéreas
Asiento 23H
Menú: Pollo Cordón Blue para cenar
22 de Agosto 17:05 hora local MIA
(Vuelvo a insinuar valentía con el inglés.
Cabezonería de avión por no querer volver sin ser la misma.
Disculpad posibles errores, espero que como yo, vosotros también os perdáis en el idioma.)