Wretched infatuation

Remembrance,
of sunlight on your face,
of your neck in my iron grip,
of unleashed rage in my...heart?

Do I have one?
Or is it as absent as my common sense?
As my sense of beauty?
As your own prettiness...

This obsession,
that cannot be called love.
For love makes you blind,
and love conquers disgust.

Disgusting, you are,
and yet, why me?
Why couldn´t I have fallen
for a beautiful being?

And I´d vomit my words,
just as I´d vomit the idea
of you being inside
that which so many call heart!

I watch your physique
and what do I see?
Am I that obsessed with frailty?
Am I that obsessed with self-loathe?

Wanting you in that way,
to the extent you help me stay alive.
Is it even true?
I don´t need you, not in that sense.

For, whatever I might tell to myself,
you are not required.
Your misery may be weighed,
But it is not weighed by me,
nor with my own.

Jealousy, I feel it.
And I may confess it
without anybody knowing
that it is because I desire you.

And I sing:
"That wretched anteater should not born,
nor that hectic shrew,
the one that you parade around me.
The same goes for the petty elephant,
which I´d gladly watch die"

"Tear apart the wings of my jay,
for I don´t want it to fly away from me.
Give me the shreds,
and I´ll feed my jay on them".

And I keep singing,
and I keep repeating to myself
that I am unique.
Only I could want you.

You asked me once,
and I couldn´t understand.
Was it a real question,
or is it just my despair?

I choked you once,
I want to do it again.
I can´t keep my hands
away from your neck...

You deserve your revenge,
and my madness will
not only allow, but is sure
to force me to surrender.

Gross, I know it well.
Infatuated as I am,
my pride, even my dignity,
I may be quick to sell.

So ask again
And maybe, for once
I´ll be able to understand.
And maybe, just once
A whisper,
No, barely a whisper
will come out,
just like me,
as a yes
as an "I want to"
as an "I always have"
and as an "I´ll always will".

Bello Lunes (ja)

Su Ominencia ha sido asaltado.

Pasó de regreso a mi casa, a menos de dos cuadras de ella, casi enfrente de la tortillería a la que siempre voy. Llegaron por detrás y sin hacer ruido. Me pusieron un brazo en el hombro, como si me conocieran y me quisieran dar una grata sorpresa. Terminaron apoyándome contra la puerta en la que usualmente se para un lindo gato dorado con ojos azules y ahí me dí cuenta de que uno de ellos tenía una cicatriz todavía fresca en el lado derecho de la cara.

Hasta este momento no me había dado cuenta de lo útil que me podría resultar el hecho de que mi esclava es prácticamente imposible de abrir. Le dio tiempo a mi celular y lector electrónico de ser ignorados por completo. La esclava heroicamente terminó sólo doblándose por el forcejeo y ellos se fueron antes de que pudieran llevarse algo.

Curioso es el hecho de que lo único que se me ocurría mientras forcejeaban para llevarse mi esclava era en lo ridículo que me debía ver con mi cara de imbécil pasmado. De hecho ellos también se veían ridículos sacudiendo inútilmente el pequeño adorno dorado como si planearan usarle de víctima sexual.

Sigo pasmado, aún no se me empiezan a ocurrir cosas sádicas y divertidas.

Extraño, pero creo haberme asustado más cuando mi cuenta en "Yogurtland" tuvo la
indecente idea de superar mi presupuesto.

(Nota de dos días después: la cicatriz que me quedó hace creer que me intenté cortar las venas con un bolillo seco)