Fog

I'd better be dumb
But goodhearted

I'd better be wrong worded
But host truth in my heart

I'd better be trustable
But I got used to forget promises

I'd better be shining
But I got used to live in fog
To make my murderers get lost

Now, that very fog of mine
Has shadowed each and every way
To get to me
Not only to my murderers
But also to my saviours
Even to me
So I'm sitting here
In the middle of my own storm
Trying to find a way
Longing to be someone else
An else that I could have been
Maybe an else I was born as

Buy today my heart's full of
Afterdarks
And dawns
And falls
And rises

And somehow or somewhere
I've lost the key
Or the beverage
To make me big or small enough
To get through the right door
Into my own lightning garden

So I'm still standing here
In the middle of this little closed tower
Fallen from inside a tree
After following the white rabbit

Wondering
Wether I deserve to laugh
Or to be beheaded
Whether I'm the good
Or the bad guy
Or both




Still standing in the fog
While facts go on and
I try to be warm water
But remain stone made
And love, and wish, and regret
All of a sudden
Altogether

Te invito

Te invito a una cirugía:
Coge el cuchillo del pan.
Córtame una rebanada de esternón.
Así.
Eso es. No hay dolor.
Así podrá salir la voz que susurra los desmanes.
Roja y chorreante.
Así podré verla.
Olfatearla. Y no odiarte.

Tú solo ven y asume mi mando.
Ejecuta.
Quizá la guarde en un tubo de ensayo.
La voz.
Y le mida la distancia.
Y la intención.

Pero ven.
Te invito a una cirugía.
Trae tu cuchillo del pan.
Es importante.
Lávate las manos y los ojos
E intenta no mancharte:
Los recuerdos rojos
Pueden ser imborrables.