I've outgrown my own imagination and spent my youth on what was not yet needed. Maybe an escape will steal from the present the little bits of the past i've left behind. Here i'll be cheerful, imaginative and cheifly inconsistant. I might get gloomy though... Hopefully untied to myself.
Monday, November 20, 2006
poema 49
Enséñame a entender el dolor, a ser cómico,
a no llorar mi soledad.
A ser Lucas y matar mis hidras.
A poner una nota al pie con toda la intención
de engañar al lector.
A no escribir como si fuera yo, sino tú.
A que abra el fuego en mis rodillas y no preocuparme,
porque por lo menos comes ensalada.
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