Forbidden Strawberry Blitz

Llega en silencio en un mundo de sombras
Clamor acallado
De un impulso aplacado
Por un monstruo encallado
Que detiene el lance
De un guerrero oxidado
Que no halla en su avance
Paz que su alma alcance

Rendido y sin resuello
Lanza enhiesta hacia su cuello
Y una sombra cubre el suelo
Cuando enjambres de saetas
Tornan negro el claro cielo
Y él, ferido, incapaz de alzar el vuelo
Contempla en su piel las grietas
Que se hunden, cavan, reptan
Y huyen raudas por sus venas
Hojas hieren de dentro a fuera
Y nada salva su coraza

Gritos hay, aunque no los sienta
Y aun en tal lid, tan sangrienta
Recuerda y busca a tientas
La memoria del sabor que hace que sienta
Que no importa si el fulgor todo revienta
¡Que así sea, que consienta!
Pues cuando nada queda y la ceniza se asienta
Pareciera blanca nieve así que ven, despierta
Y muere ahora bajo el rojo que te tienta

Kleine... glänzende

Brillas.
Como nada ni nadie que haya visto en tanto tiempo que me pregunto si realmente alguna vez realmente vi una luz así o si solamente imaginaba un tenue reflejo en momentos en que la lucidez y el sueño se entremezclan. Brillas y lo demás no importa. No me importa.
Sé de sobra cómo funciona, que toda cara tiene su cruz es más cerca de la luz más brillante donde las sombras son más oscuras. Sé que a más roja y bella sea la rosa más hieren sus espinas, más fragante es su perfume y más frágiles son sus pétalos. Sé que por cada paso al frente hay uno atrás y que hay veces que incluso se retrocede sin haber avanzado. Pero no me importa.
Me importa más que sepas que brillas, reluces,
Deslumbras y mereces
Que te hablen de las veces
Que al hablarte y ver tu cara, no hay cruces
Y en la sombra de los días en tus ojos brillan luces
Que ojalá pudieras creer, ojalá supieras ver. Y entre todo lo que veo cuando me hablas nada elijo, todo guardo. Porque sí me importa. Y no hay palabra que no aprecie, no hay gesto que no cuente y no hay sonrisa que no alegre, por un instante o por decenios, el rictus estoico en que tengo que devenir para sobrevivir. Quizá un día más, tal vez dos. Los que hagan falta en realidad pues cuando pasa cierta edad, quizá sea sólo cosa mía, pero el tiempo ya da igual. Un día dura como un siglo y sin embargo una noche en vela compartida  contigo se me antoja una efeméride, una nota a pie de página de un libro que ojalá pudiera explicarte hasta qué punto merece la pena leer.
Pero sé poco de explicar y sólo sé que brillas y que piensas que nadie más lo piensa… ¿Quién sabe? Quizá tenga dos veces suerte: una por ser el único que ve la obra y otra porque para mí amanece bajo otra luz, otro sol, otra estrella que aún no lo sabe, pero más de lo que creía posible, brilla.
Brillas.

Living lines form a dead man's hands

Guess what, I am

Indeed, awake

For time has just

Once more, again,

Chosen for no other sake

Than having me tormented

To keep me far from rest.

While the world is dreaming

I do nothing but

What makes me the one you see,

Good for nothing but being

Everything that’s bad

Regretting only one thing

For once I made you sad.

Might you wonder

What my purpose is

Engraving these lines in thin air

Begging to nothing itself to keep these words…

And so do I, for sure

As I realize these hands of mine

Have free will to write these words of thine.

Came the One. Then they were Two.

Yes, I do. I cannot hide it anymore for the truth reaches a tone so high that is hard for me to keep that voice screaming inside of me. I am guilty, I confess, for everything I should have forgotten is coming back to me. The day shall come and I might not be ready to leave but until then I cannot further deny the facts, the reasons and furthermore, the very essence of all that has to do with me.
Shall the following be the last words of the one you knew but the first ones of who I’ve always been.
Long ago there was nothing inside. Nothing, that is, except for the rage-filled blood that cursed my veins as a lovely yet disgusting ingredient of a poisonous cocktail created for and by death itself. Nothing else mattered, nobody existed for me to care for except, of course, myself and there was only one thing in my mind that both tormented and delighted me.
Lust.
The kind of vicious desire that would take my consciousness far, far away from me as it would’ve been an unnecessary barrier for something that had no reason to be stopped. Back then I would enjoy the pleasures of the flesh, indeed, but I had long before given away my soul, whatever made me human. I had already, somehow, transcended everything anyone could imagine and, for the time lust took over me, I had already become a god among all. Leaving mortality aside, I was able to learn things words cannot explain and eyes cannot perceive. I was free from the boundaries of what is right and what is wrong, for the lack of morality is a consequence of being a completely unuseful concept that did nothing but restrain wisdom. I learnt how to enjoy being independent from time and also discovered the pleasures of deceiving lesser beings to give their blind faith to me only to leave and watch from afar how they, barehanded, found themselves out of their mind when they realized their hopes were a lie. I developed a taste for playing with their bodies as well and, as if dolls they were, I sated my curiosity by pushing them to unsuspected limits. How far can a man crawl towards his still beating heart before dying or how much skin can someone have removed until passing away are some of the very first ideas I had. Sometimes I even experimented the way pleasure is meant to be achieved among humans. Slowly at first and rising intensity just to discover the limits of human pleasure itself. Where joy turns into suffering and mind is in such an ecstasy that won’t allow that person to stop even knowing death is secured. Some resisted more than other but there was always that moment when something inside just broke and the lucid mind humans are so proud of turned into a thirsty vessel longing to be fulfilled despite they knew inside it did hurt… but it did hurt so good. They were, as I said, broken inside and unaware of the danger or perhaps they knew but they just would not care. Sometimes I envy them.
Long ago, indeed, but time for me is nothing for I’m counting no age. Many of you will never read these words and those who do will not believe or understand what I try to explain. But I am not interested in human faith anymore. Instead, I presume someone will secretly see what my words depict and find inside a sudden hunger for all that knowledge the world, this world, cannot offer. That one delicious soul shall, eventually, give a step forward and leave behind the numbness she was unaware of. That time shall come and that soul is called to leave this time, the known limits and then she shall find my hand to guide her.
Why, some may ask, am I so confident?
There’s no reason to explain for words shall not be understood. Watching time from a distance allows an utter comprehension of life and the so called “free will”.
I already know who that person is. I know you’re reading this.
You know my words are yours to use as a guide.
We both know, somehow, gods enjoy eternity with an equal to talk to.
It all begins now.
Wake up.

N.W.V - 5.4.1.1.