Despair cometh

It bestrode

The steps 

Of torment

It broke the walls,

The flimsy guard

Of our home

Uncalled,

Impossible,

A force unstoppable

It devoured us,

Beneath the cloak

Of our yesterdays

Daggers

Con su grito se siente el fulgor
El choque de dos cuerpos


Dentro de su rabia
Se abren las grietas

Con su grito se abre tu palma
Los dedos se alejan

Y queda el rastro rojo
Del baile inusitado

La traicion es una estela
Que no debemos seguir

Aunque nuestras pupilas
Se pierdan en el miedo.

Tu voz

Tu escandalo
Tu precipicio
Tu mordida
Tu manipulacion

Estalla en dolores
Contraida
Se torna, se revuelve
Es un atisbo

Tu temblor
Tu ceguera
Tu hambre
Tu pasion

Recorta un nombre
Lo disimula
Como bebiendo
Despacio

Tu voz
Me grita.

Sleepless

Wait
Abhor
The suddenness

Change
To a state
Of regression

Diminish
All expressions
Of growth

Become replaceable
A figure
Of stunted movement

Move no more
Dream no more
Breath no more

I'm sleepless.

Crowned ghosts

i heard the voices
break beneath the surface

i saw titles and disguises
taken away from me

but never i dared
to remember such a thing

as the death of you

Heavenly spheres

Of dimmed creation,
The desolation lays vast
Upheld in an order
Of Malign hierarchy

To be rearrenged,
Beseth by intrincancies
That pertain
To our creators alone,

Whom may find
The reflection cast
A dire sight
Of their own inadaquecy.

Oh, but the mighty cohorts
That reign supreme
Crumble worlds
In the wake of a laughter,

Yet the shining eyes
Are bewildered,
Lost in transition,
Everchanging,

For the laws that beheld
Our dance in the sky
Are now playground
To younglings

And the echoes
Reveal their might,
Youth overcomes force,
Life tramples life,

In this, our parade,
We of old, we the great,
Feel the hunger
Against mutation.

The sounds of the machine

Entremezclados
En la quietud del cemento,
Como lanzas estridentes
Perforando el panorama

Detalles distantes
Que se acercan
Como olas

Y se difuminan
Entre choque y choque,
De cuerpo a cuerpo,
Se pierden

Y con ellos
El significado
Se torna

Un augurio
Impotente,
Idiota,
un algo

Que repite
Sobrecargado
Algo que ya no es

[en tus gritos
escucho la maquina
que tuerce las horas
y arrebata mis historias]

We who would drown

In the quietest of seas

Without the welcoming sounds

Of the nightsky

Nor the shattered streams of light

We would drown

With our hands held high

Touching the cold stars

Chokepoint

There lies
A space
Between spaces
A time
Of murmurs
Wherein
We all fade

Drowning
In tranquil steps
Slowly
Giving away

Into faces
That used to be
Us