Tuesday, April 4, 2017

Famous last words

I'm old and tired. Inside of my body, there is nothing more than fatigue and regret.
My years are about to end and my heritage to the ones that remain are words.
My very last words.

It comes out of my mouth as an apology. A means to an end, really. I bid you goodbye in my screams and breaths, as I wash my face in front of a messed up mirror. Broken, as I am broken.
Shouting your name to every corner of this city that serves no-one's purpose but my own. Yet you are no longer around to hear me say my words. My apologies, my regrets of yesterday and tomorrow. How I wish... how I wish my words could be yours and my regret could be someone else's.

Reality is the blood that runs through my veins, as a poison that seeks the heart to finish a job someone set out to do. I have killed myself over and over. And I made you watch until it was no longer bearable.

I too had to watch you cringe in despair, sitting in a corner of this house, over and over again. In screams and desire to die.
I help the poison run its course with each bottle of liquor that is finished and thrown against the wall, with all the strength I can muster. Which isn't much nowadays. A scene too many times repeated. A scene you gave up watching in disbelief.

I threw my tears and life and love down the sewage of the soul...
I have nothing more to give. Only regret that serves nothing an no-one. I stand alone. Again and for one final time. My last stand watching the city fall asleep one last time.
No more tears, finally. No more screams.

As I bid you farewell, baby, I leave you my words and little more.
Small amounts of nothing to lay in your hands to rest. As I too lay to rest in this corner that you once embraced against your will.


My very last words are yours, just as I am.

Friday, December 30, 2016

Save me

Save me, darling. Can you save me, please?

No one person can do what you can do. And I need it. I need those miracles.
I desperately need that look that sees right through me. The one where you undress my very soul. Please, darling, can you save me?...

I'm tired, darling. So very tired of me. Of not wanting me in my own life.
It aches to get up and walk the life I didn't chose.
 
It suffocates me to breathe this corrupted air that surrounds us mercilessly.
Just for today, my sweet darling, can you save me?...

These people, these corners. Where am I? How did I get here?...
What strange place is this? that has nothing of you in the walls or in the rooms where I lie awake. I'm dying. My memories are slipping away and I can't bear the thought of losing you too. I'm slowly fading into a background that has no light or hope.
I strech my arms, dreaming that you will pull me away from all of this. Your hands, my darling...
Let me beg you again and again... Save me, please save me, my darling...

My breasts are not as you remember them. Nor is my skin. Not even my eyes.
I am older but not wiser. For I cannot release myself from this place of withering. Not by myself, not without you.
I sat on the corner of the bedroom, crying and asking empty questions to which I already know the answers. And I hear your voice inside my tired head. Shouting my name in confusion. But I am also confused, darling. I need saving.

Oh, how I need you today. Tonight. Always.
I need you to rescue me one last ime, darling.
Just for today, my swet darling, can you save me from me?...
Will you...?



Thursday, December 22, 2016

Hard Sun

It was cold. It still is. 

This city just keept getting colder and angrier, even though it worked its ass off  not to show itself like that. She didn't mind that, though. It was as much her city as it is still mine. To this day, we share these walls in our own different ways, I guess.
I met up with her in a hidden terrace, bathed by sunlight that made us forget it was winter. Not everything is bad in my city. And she... well, she is still the perfect example. 

I hadn't seen her in months. I was busy writing my next "thing", dying a little every day, while she was busy living. Every breath she took carried me somewhere I wanted to be, even if just for a second. Every word she spoke made me want to forget what was wrong. So I just let her talk. I smoked one cigarette after the other, and just listened and shook my head in agreeance.
Anything else would seem out of place, inconvenient even.
Like I felt.

We were both in love. With the city, and only the city. People were just an extra. An unantecipated bonus that came along with the streets we grew to appreciate in our own individual way.

And she talked. Then talked some more. I just listened.
I couldn't tell her what I was thinking. 'Cause it didn't matter anyway. 

The hours rolled away as my life rolled away in front of her eyes, without her even noticing it, not so much as a glimpse. And as the light gave way to the night that came down upon us, and we kept staying, she kept trying to convert me to life, while I just hid from her how much I was fading away in the cold city sun.
That was the last time I would ever see her. I miss her and those rare days in the city.
Times where I could forget the angel of Death held my hand every hour of the day.
Even if it was just for a few hours.

I could never share the city with no one else but her. Still can't. Maybe that's why we never saw each other again. Maybe because, after all, we are jealous of one another for loving, of being in love with the same. The city.
Always the city.

Wednesday, December 7, 2016

In sickness and in health

I hid in plain sight, under the street lamp, in the south corner of the city gardens. I sat down, right in front of Mr. Lopez's store, and just watched time, and some people, pass by. 
Inspite of the late hour, dozens of people walked the sidewalk yearning to get home. It was cold, winter was upon us, even though I felt it was upon me for years. 

No rain in days, making it almost umbearable to stay outside. But I dind't care too much about it. 

As if I deserved to endure this freezing weather. As if it were my punishment to be left out in the cold.

Funny. People kept on walking by, avoiding to look me in the eye, fearing I was some sort of image they never wanted to see. Like a mirror they did not dare to stare. I laughed inside and smikerd in defiance of their fear. No one would touch me even if I was cut open and laid to die on the pavement. Society at its finest.

I sat there until there was a total absence of human beings as far as my eyes could see. I still like that feeling of quietude and tranquility that only an empty steet can offer me.
If I was finally alone, I could finally walk again. No bumps or turns, no unexpected encounters with familiar faces. Just the way I like my city.
My old and sickness-striken city. My old girl. It's only at these fine hours I could, and still can, feel you as before. A cigarette lights my way down the sidewalk and my smoke mingles with the cool and unpolloted night air.

My God, how can I only feel alive when Death wonders to seek souls for its haven?
And why is everyone but me so hellbent on destroying what we might have left of our humanity? Her humanity.
My Girl, my dark and ill city...

Friday, December 2, 2016

Brown eyes

I miss the days. Those brown-eyed days of ours. The so called miracle of love.
The days I held your body in my arms and thought the world would never come to an end. Time just stood still when our brown eyes shared the hours and sunsets. Like the young like to do. Yeah... I miss our brown-eyed days, baby.

Now I can't place you anywhere but my memories. Haven't heard from you in so long that I don't even dare to count.
Your voice is but a precious recolection of a time that comes no more.
The smell of you next to me in the morning. To make love as a celebration on waking up. Your breath on my chest, slowly returning back to calm. And quietness. Just the quietness of you. How I miss our brown-eyed days, my darling...

How did I let go again? Can you tell me again, baby? How did I let this crumble for good, do you remember? What was it this time? 'Cause I can't seem to catch a glimpse of you leaving. I shut that image down within this old heart of mine. I don't want to relive that minute anymore. Not me nor my soul are ready to go through those words again.
You are my memory, baby. And like all memories, this is one that feels heavy on the soul, baby. Like our brown-eyed days. Those days I miss.

The city sleeps quietly. As I suppose you do, too. I can't find no quiet or peace. Not like this. Not now. And not anymore, baby. Life tastes like nothing without those days.

Our brown-eyed days. Yeah... how I miss our brown-eyed days, baby...