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31.8.12

melalcóholica

recurrencia verbal
por exceso de silencios
nas palabras
que falas para encher o calado
cando eu non sei o que digo

| será do imposto, que fai de ricos o consumo de tempo e termos |

e sempre, sempre a ausencia dos guións
nos diálogos, 
os que encho ausente (tamén) por non perderme

| porque o ticket non o paguei eu, non, que o mercastes de camiño |

cando os soños son caros de máis para adquisición común



| sabendo a bebida de balde |

coma o de ser díptero, que se reflicte insípido nas sopas de letras onde é obrigado escribir ortográfico para voar (mosca)



29.8.12

unha vez,

unha canción.

walking up the hill tonight 
and you have closed your eyes
I wish I didn't have to make
all those mistakes and be wise

please try to be patient 
and know that I'm still learning
I'm sorry that you have to see 
the strength inside me burning
where are you my angel now 
don't you see me crying?
and I know that you can't do it all 
but you can't say I'm not trying
I'm on my knees in front of him 
but he doesn't seem to see me
but all his troubles on his mind
he's looking right through me
and I'm letting myself down
by satisfying you

and I wish that you could see 
that I have my troubles too
 
looking at you sleeping 
I'm with the man I love
I'm sitting here weeping 
while the hours pass so slow
and I know that in the morning 
I'll have to let you go
and you'll be just a man
once I used to know

and for these past few days 
someone I don't recognize
  



this isn't all my fault
when will you realize

looking at you leaving, I'm looking for a sign.



25.8.12

e tan eu



“I'm selfish, impatient and a little insecure. I make mistakes, I am out of control and at times hard to handle. But if you can't handle me at my worst, then you sure as hell don't deserve me at my best.” 

3.8.12

you don't have to








morboso pracer aquel,
o dos ollos
nas pautas
ao cortarse coa folla exacta.


sangue, Roxanne, sangue.



1.8.12

it's coming



mutilación

mentres eu milito
e corro ó tempo abatido que perdo,

closer;

pola preguiza que me esmaga
e que fai do taboleiro esvaecerse a pezas brancas,

cada vez máis e máis closer,

esas coas que acostumaba moverme
gañando, inocente.

daquela,
closer
da inocencia, única ignorancia
útil

na turbación bélica.

closer  por xogar á guerra.