Shoot
Shotgun kisses
behind the door.
On the bed,
a rainbow corpse,
painted blue,
buries its memories
in the pillow.
Mouthfuls of freshwater
remove the salt
enveloping the tongue,
submerged,
vibrant,
pleased.
Traces of autumn
swim on the surface.
In the depth
tears melt
on the barefoot road
of winter
in the rain.
Cries become bubbles,
bubbles of alcohol,
methanol,
flammable,
explosive.
Emotions scatter behind the words,
dream refreshments,
pain sinking in the bones,
Invisibly cutting the flesh,
bleeding sweat,
revealing sacred lies.
October arrived with un-giant steps,
and the unforgettable gazes
got tangled in past shadows.
Unicorns shiver in the cold,
they shiver with loneliness.
Be noble
be cruel:
shoot.
Memo XLI
Time,
stop making mirrors on the clock.
Strange morning,
my eyes look but can´t see
the trace of a digital woman
who has left to find herself,
loving me,
loving her,
tattooing with her eyes
another unfinished forever
in my anachronistic story
with no happy endings.
Sweet spite
drenching with your waters
my hardened cheeks,
my bitter voice,
my broken smile.
You echo your glories
on the empty parliament seat
left by love,
in the legislative body of my eternal loneliness.
So many non-communicative lines
in this, my story,
fragments of you
with a prescribed soundtrack.
I release you from me,
from the prison of my unfinished stories,
from my hurtful dreams,
my gallant words,
noble lies,
half truths,
multipolar moods,
intermittent love,
and the indelible memory of Lucía,
relentlessly chasing me,
overriding the tracks of your love.
a new venezuelan poetry 