Frozen man walking

This is not supposed to be here.

Haven’t updated the site in a while. Maybe because I haven’t done anything deserved to be posted. Or most likely lazyness.

Nah, I lied, I’ve just been an idiot doing crap every evening. My thoughts fly and my mind hops in delirium in the worst moments one could think. Harvesting just the lesser and tiniest prizes.

Anyway, there’s no time lost just uncomfortable flashbacks, and this day I was sieged by everything I didn’t have in weeks. Read poetry that gave me images already built to search for, moved like the dancer I haven’t been and my mind is alert and stalking. Something’s coming, and whatever it is will be caught like the prey it is and will be eaten like the proteins it is.

Although I feel like the drunken piles of rags
in dark corners
blabbering and blabbering
without any sign of blab.

I will try to update it again soon, hopefully with content and not just senseless blabber.

To the whore who took my poems, by Charles Bukowski
La maquina de follar / Fuck Machine, by Charles Bukowski (bio. in spanish)
Claudio Bertoni and his work Jovenes buenas mozas (part). (Sorry, only spanish)

Leave a Reply