Ghost

I exist in no eyes, exept yours...

A Perfect World

I'd dig through the desert to find you, but... I know where you are now. I know whos arms are wraping your tender body. I know who covers you in those cold, cold nights. I know... I don't wanna know! I want to sing to you again, I want to walk around the world with your hand in mine. I want to watch you as you aproach me, to hugh you without the fear that you'll leave. I want my world to be perfect, but it's not! Nothing can be perfect without you there...

When She Smiles

When she smiles, the whole world is lit. Every shade of blue shines brighter, when she smiles. When she smiles, my world gets recreated. Evey day that commes seems happier, when she smiles...

Water

I never sat on the front seat of cabs. I've never known a cab driver, nor I was interested in their theories of the just how sneaky women are. Even when they would go on talking, I'd simply put back the earphones in my ears and went on enjoying the music...

On that day, when I was wondering mindlessly in the town by the lake, I got a call. I was suppose to go somewhere and it was urgent. I don't actually remember where, but I know it was impossible to go on foot and get there on time. Before I could do anything, a cab pulled up next to me, and on top of everything, the driver opened the front door for me and said - come in, sir.

I closed the door that he oppened and in acordance with my habit, I sat on the back seat. I told him my destination, and started staring at the flat surface of the lake. He started telling a tale, but I didn't listen. 

- I know your trouble - he said, raising the tone of his voice, after noticing I don't care what he does.

I didn't say anything, but he got my atention.

- It's a woman, isn't it? - he asked, very carefuly. 

- Isn't it always a woman? - I replied with bitternes in my voice.

- There are women and women, my friend. It seems to me like you have lost one that was more than just a woman... - he said and then started to whistle the tune of “The Man Who Can’t Be Moved”.

It was too much. I couldn't hold it any longer, I remembered an old and bad habit of mine and told him everything that was on my mind. I threw some curses at him, telling him to leave me alone and to drive, cause that was his job!

He frowned, but didn't get mad. He told me he was going to tell a story and all I had to do was listen. He said he knew I would because I'd surely be interested. He knew well:

"I do what I do for more than thirty years now. The hears on your skin would stand up if you only knew what I have seen. But, if you only knew the beauties I've witnessed, you'd know why it's worth living.

One day, many years ago, just as my shift ended, I went to the market, to buy some fruit before going home. It was then that I saw the strangest thing in my life. On a bench there was a pregnant woman, just siting. Out of nowhere, a young girl appeared, dressed in a white dress, it couldn't have been older than 2 years. It came up to the woman and said - hurry up, give birth to the baby.

The woman asked with a huge smile - why?

The cute little girl smiled that much more and said - because I am suppose to be hugging him."

- What's so strange about that story? Kids say stuff like that all the time... - I said, pissed off.

The taxi stopped, somewhere by the lake, but far from the destination I had specified. 

- What now? - I asked.

- That's why it was strange, lad! - he said and pointed towards the water. - That's the girl that wanted to hug you before you were even born...

I wasn't listening to him any more. It was her. My Beauty. I found her once more.

- How did you get here? - she asked, smiling, just before she grabed me and pulled me into her self.

- The cab - I answered.

- What cab? - she asked again.

I turned around. The dark street was empty.

I Don't Write

I don't write for anybody. Least for my self. I write because the words are heavy. I won't ever scrible a few verses and I won't keep them in my shue box only when "the wise" will decide that that is the day of pointles writing... Everyday is pointles. Everyday that you aren't a part of...

The Bus That Went Nowhere

The bus departed from their station. Those two immediately started throwing words around.

- I was thinking - he said, with his silent tone, the same tone that foretold a lengthy conversation.

- When you think, kingdoms fall - she said, with a smile unlike any other on the planet.

The bus was cruising down the streets, never repeating the same path twice.

- You displaced my definition of happiness - he said after the long pause in which he stared into the two pupils that almost drank him dry.

- It was on purpose - she said with her sweetly distorted voice.

He grabbed her hand. The bus was still going somewhere.

- Don't ever get mad at me for the way that I love you. You know that I want you to be mine and only mine. You know that nothing tastes as it use to? Everything is sweetened by the thoughts of you...

- She squeezed his hand harder. The bus was now going nowhere. It didn't exist.

For you

Ever since you stuck your hands up my sleeves, I knew you'd be mine. As soon as I wormed up palms, you wormed up my heart... Today, I no longer know how to describe my love for you. I can only let you crawl under my skin so you can truly feel who I'm living for...

The night

I was petrified by the night. I didn't want to fall asleep. I knew I would wake in the morning, but I also knew that you won't be next to me. The dreams are a price too small to pay for eternity. One infinite moment for me, while you sleep. My eyes on your skin, instead of kisses. My breath on your eye lashes, instead of the wind. You in my thoughts, for years, and years...

Wish

We'll shatter the sky together and then we are going to clumsily keep trying to put it back together. It'll take out whole lives, to come to the end, and then, we'll see all the plastic people that stood in our way. Then we'll see that the sky can't be reassembled, cause if it is, we could never see the stars that live in the reflection of you eyes...

When she goes away

When she goes away, the hug is still here - an empty set. A trace. When she goes away, even the sky arranges it self differently. The air is filed with a strange sent unlike the one she hauls... I see characters of a parallel universe, lingering in the empty streets and overcrowded yards, behind the curtains that never stop moving... When she goes away, only the hug remains. An empty set...

Contemplations

No! Don't even try to save a man who's drowning in mud. He'll pull you along with him, even if it's the last thing that ever came to his mind. You know, even little children know that some people can become good only in death. And the bitch, continues to take the ones she shouldn't... I talked in my dream. I talked with my dead friend, which I hadn't said a word to while she was alive. She said to me - keep on walking your own road! Don't leave loneliness, cause it certainly won't leave you...

Falcon

He glided proudly through the air, besides me. He flew, but the wind wouldn't let him move forward. Stubbornly, he pushed ahead, with his head held up high. I waved form the edge, but he didn't even look at me. He stared in front of him, at his road... From within me, all the daemons, all the nightmares, all the sweat shadows from the past came out and didn't let me find my peace, at that ordinary day, while I waited to hear from you...

Shadows

Our whole lives are just a simple play of lights. A clumsy dance of the steps into nothing and the shortage of shadows. You, closing on me, on your toes, down my street, quiet, along with the wind. You, hiding behind the branches of the huge blackberry tree; up on the forever forgotten railway tracks that lead to nowhere... And all the hugs in which I wanted to trap you - one with the shadows...

The House On The Hill

When we were little, we always glared at the house on the hill. When ever we passed at the base, we couldn't keep our eyes away. The people with the biggest cars lived there, their kids had the most beautiful toys, wore the most glamorous outfits, had everything... We stopped staring at the house on the hill a long time ago. Ever since we found out that mountains existed...

There

My place is there, where the hills are bare, and the mountains endlessly sad. I don't belong here. I don't belong somewhere, where you are so close, but so damn far! My place is there. Where my dreams are still alive. Where I know the wind is calling me, trying to tell me the story of freedom.

Never

Never has the peace of Snickers been so sweet, as it was there, above the clouds, when every cell in my body was crying for at least a gram of sugar. Never has the rain been so perfectly aligned with the notes of the song in which I found you, more than a 100 times! Never has the emptiness been filled by something so small and so beautiful. Never before...

Betrayal by Umbrellas

Beautiful girls hide their smiles, somewhere behind those frowny faces. They make sure that no one will wish to steal their smiles away from them. They live joyfully, until the umbrellas don't start dancing around, making way for the rain. And, it will capture the sincere laughter, leaving nobody immune... They fall asleep in someones arms, those pretty smiling faces, cursing the betrayal by umbrellas...

I write

I don't write about the things I will write in the future. I don't write about my majestic successes in the past. I write for the sake of writing. I write now, about your blackest brownish-green eyes, your words and the smile that make me start linking the world; about the funny weather in Guam; about the storms that take place in the left corner of my room; about the municipal bonds in Cuba; about the newborns that won't live to see the world destroyed... I write because it's the only thing I know... I write...

Love & Walnuts

We didn’t eat walnuts very often. We were too lazy to hit the branches. We waited for the day they gathered the fruits. Then, we ate and ate, until our hands would turn black, and our tummies would swell up. We went to bead, with a sense of nausea, and a thought: “Never again!” Until the next year, at least...

A part of you

Who knows how many passed you by. A part of you they took, never looking back, going forward on their path. You, gluttonously swallowing parts of them, wanted to hold on to the memory of your existence in someone's eyes, no matter how short or meaningless it is. And I can't stay next to you. I only needed a moment, unrelated to the fear of leaving. A hug, shorter than a moment, but bigger than eternity. A real part of you. A part that doesn't exist....

Chess

I killed a child. The graves continued to struggle with their game of chess. They had positioned them selves, black after white marble tombstone, but they couldn't reach an agreement as to which soul has the next move. Almost an eternity, they remained frozen. In that period, no one looked at the moon anymore, because it wasn't sweetened by nobody's shadow. It was just a moon. Same as that kid was just a kid. The one I killed, deep inside of me....

Ode

At that spot, where every day, an enchanting aroma of cows and manure spread through the air; tonight, it stunk of baked beef!

A Midnight Talk

It hit me, as if I heard it from my own sister! I wished I could slap her so hard, as I never wished to do to anyone. It's lucky that the alcohol was speaking instead of me. I didn't say a thing...

The Storyteller

There’s nothing worse that can happen to a storyteller, than to use up all his stories. That time, when he faces that empty new sheet of paper and says to him self “there’s nothing more”! At that exact time, the storyteller won’t give up that easy. He would amount to some desperate measures. No doubt, he would try and tell his own life story. What he doesn’t know is that during all that time he was telling other people’s stories, he didn’t write his own. There is nothing to tell when you look back at his life. He is nothing more than a mere storyteller.

The crushed storyteller cannot stop being what he is, but having nothing more to say, he will just stop. He will give up! He will rather die than admit that he has no more stories to tell...

The shortest short story ever writen

While we are all considering our selfs as the ones that are predetermined for greatness, this short short story has no capacity for greatness - it realized that, as us, it is just too small and insignificant to ever be great....

The kid

– That kid must have an amazing sex life – they would say. And they were right. You should hear the stories he was telling everyone. He was talking about things people haven’t even seen on TV, sometimes things of which most of us haven’t even heard of!! People were talking, but, I always knew he was a nut-job. I knew I was looking at a lonely soul, a child trapped in a grown-man’s body with an imagination so vivid, that even Stephen King could envy him.

One night, we sneaked into his back yard and took a peak at the window that was illuminated. We saw him, sitting in his chair in front of the TV, watching Star Trek or SG-1 and masturbating. We didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. My “companions” decided it was best to make fun of the poor guy, so they started banging on the window, making strange noises and taking pictures with their phone-cameras.

I went away. I couldn’t stand what was happening, but on the other hand, I never got the wish to stop them either. I have no idea what happened to the kid or what they did to him, and to be perfectly honest, I don’t care anymore. They were pigs, and he lied to me. So, I just left and never came back...