PANDORA’S SECRET

Using teeth and throats,
lips for breath beats, the flesh to whisper,
storm of veins, paw, sweat.
In the shell of your eyes winters a hard star,
an eternal gem.
But your voice is a calm sea, ancient shells,
pieces of reason,
mind in fragments of the sea.
The palm of the hand in the sky he marvels, the sun darkens,
to be able to look at you better.
You are also a grass, an orange,
a cloud, a rock on which to crash. The world falters at the kidneys,
the pleasure of the inner sediment contracts.
The heat of the heart expands, twisting towards the atrocious futures.
We sat exhausted in the rubble of your body,
we sucked the liquor from your brain,
and not only that, and we had to keep walking jumping over obstacles of love.
You are suspended on the circle of life
and you hold your skull well polished like an ancient object,
you cover it with your hair, you put it back.
Put on another wig and you are another different woman.
You have only indulged in your perfume of infinity.

EROS AND THANATOS

Roses are red, blood is red, love is red. Happiness is clothed in thorns, it can be reached, embraced, with the crucifixion clause. The harder you push, the harder it sticks to you, and the blood gushes. Happiness is an elite created by those who self-destruct to give it to others. A cosmic equilibrium is destroyed in order to create, one loves in order to die, to the point of dying. Eros and Thanatos go hand in hand. There are still entities that prefer to harm themselves rather than those they love. They can be considered weak, but others do not know how much strength it takes not to open the Pandora’s box that is hidden behind a pair of eyes, they do not know how much awareness exudes from the skin. What awareness? The awareness of the power used to protect, which if released would cause a massacre with no survivors. An awareness that bleeds inside, behind a smile, without anyone noticing, or at least almost anyone. The blood gushes, and nobody pays any attention to it. And that’s right, for balance. For the world. There is a part of me that you don’t know, and it’s not my fragility, it’s that part that at some point reminds me of what I’ve been through, that makes me recognize your lies, that tells me when it’s time to move on , who does not stop saying that the first place will never be yours, because it is already occupied by me. You wouldn’t even understand it by trying on this part that you don’t see, so you will continue to call it insanity.

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