Tread on crystals

And if it is time to tread on crystals, what?
Open eyes wide, grit your teeth...
Open eyes wide, clench your fists and smile.
A big brilliant smile as if nothing was wrong.
As if sharpened edges weren't getting deeply in your soles soft flesh.
A waning moon like smile
Your wet-nurse smiling proud:
of your smile,
of your silence,
of your submission.
Your blush and your dismay, a delicious delicacy.

If it is time to tread on crystals, shout.
As crazy.
As a devil.
Steal your beloved wet-nurse broom
and get the Prince Charming boots.
And sweep, sweep, sweep...
A mistaken Cinderella.
Build smiles with small transparent stings,
beautiful diamond edges, your delicious delicacy.
One for each amazed expression.

And run to relieve your wrath in some deep dark well.

I sleep

16:34
109ºF

I sleep.

If you awaken me,
I'll find you and
¡I'll rip off your wings!

Vikings

Playing in the neighborhood had its own fashions. Sometimes we played hide and seek and others we did shopping. Depending...

Those days, boys used to play indians and cowboys, whith archs, arrows and shotguns they made with wood and cord.

- May I play?
- Ok. You can be the mother: make our weapons and cook our food.
- I don't wanna be the mother!
- Ok, so you can be an indian other a cowgirl... But you gotta make your own weapons.
- I don't wanna be an indian other a cowgirl!
- So you cannot play!
- Why?
- This game is just like this!
- But I wanna be a Viking! Vikings were in America before cowboys!

Text selected to be included in the book "El vuelo de Neleb"

http://acencs.org

Where are you?

“This is the only thing soothing me, comforting me: the sea. Waves licking my feet. Always the same sea, and always a different caress. With the true promise to come back each time it goes away. Kept promises. That's the only thing appeasing me.
Why so difficult? Why when everything seems to be right something spoils it? Spoils it absolutely, completely. What am I doing wrong? Why doesn´t it last?
However I remember them all and I can still say I love them some way. Each of them in her special way... So many hearts, so many heartbeats, so many lost tears! I remember all the first times: the first time I saw them, the first time I hold them, when they came with me, ... everything. I just want it to last!"

He leaves the beach shaking carefully his feet. Walks sadly all the promenade, as if he still walk  within water. Breaths deeply for a while in front of the house door, as if doubting or trying to gather strength from some hidden place. At last, he turns the key and inside:
   - WHERE ARE YOU, BITCH?

Selected text for the book "Antología de Relato Breve - Amores"
http://letrasconarte.es.tl

Bad dream

And here I am again.
At the entrance of the black hole where I had fallen.
One of those wormholes.
A worm licking its feet.
And everything starts again,
from the begining, but a bit lower.
Around and downwards. As in a bad dream.
Cycles... cycles...
But it seems infinite.

I look upwards and both sides.
I see nowhere to get hold of.
I'd like to have something to grab.
Something red and living. With some letters of 'hope'.
But I can't see it yet.
Upwards and both sides are the same dim concept.

Some gusts of wind drag unawares light rays.
As little blades of rare solar plants,
that tangle between your hair
leaving only white threads,
that don't illuminate you, don't cheer you up
but heat you.

A cloud

A cloud for your pillow.
I'm seeding stars inside your sheets, to heat you.
I'll set a siren to sing in your ear.
A siren of light.
I want to light it all around you.
So, all and you, will be only one.
Kiss me when you dream me
and I'll have your lips in me each second.
Cry me in the awakening.
Your tears will be new stars of a night between the blankets.
I've been my whole life weaving words to lull you.
Y want to be part of you.
With each of your gazes I lose pieces of soul inside your shirt.
Kiss me when you dream me.
Dream me.

While sleeping

I met a man who smiled while sleeping.
Without awaking.
He smiled.
Asleep.
Only angels are said to be able to.
So it's said.

One night I heard him whispering to shadows
he didn't want to get back.

He did get back.

I wish I could meet him again.

An angel in black

What does an angel in black reminds you?
In black leather.
What does he reminds you?
An angel looking at you from up above and smiling.
What does he reminds you?
White feathers falling as daisies
following the clock heartbeat rhythm.

Crows.

Once I wanted a crow.
But angels have fun exchanging birds
and throwing them against the windows glasses
the open windows of your soul.

A game.

Who understands their games?
They dirty everything of random and hope
and of already known ends.