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If they tell you that I fell don’t go believing itperhaps they saw someone like me fall a vulgar gaze a guy without age a heartless soul no-one in particular. Remember ahhh what I was ahhh before you and before it snowed ahhh remember ahhh to believe in me remember. If they tell you that…
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There are things one never expects; such is the realization of to-day. The day is drenched by a fastidious sadness. I smell the bitter-sweet taste of change infecting the air. It is not my custom to pray, nor do I like the word for it contains such connotations that kiss the intellect with the intensity…
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What is your most marked characteristic?An ability to feel things intensely. What is the quality you most like in a man? The tenderness and sensitivity of a woman. What is the quality you most like in a woman? Man’s rashness and outspokenness; his lack of civility. What do you most value in your friends? Tolerance.…
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To-day I received a letter from my sister Alondrà (Lark); no, my parents are not hippies. Amusingly enough, she seems to be under the impression that my name is Jaén, which I assume she must pronounce as ya-en instead of ha-en. The letter is filled with tenderness that is typical of a child. Ah to…
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You are my best kept secret and I have yet to tell anyone of you, of your perfect eyes that keep me in mystified existence. Oh I can walk on water, scatter across an endless sea of reveries. Yet I am confused … singing as I muse. What am I to do with myself for…
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To-day I craved to be in the desert mounted on a camel, travelling down over sand dunes that are reminiscent of the ones left behind. I imagined myself doing this, traversing over a sea of sand. And it brought me to tears. Perhaps it is because to-day I have been quite emotional. I almost broke…
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I daydreamed that I jumped into a pool of azure, whose profundity was enough to satiate the vitiated tastes of a surfeited lover. Oh and to what lenghts one goes to produce excuses and justifications … to prevent the soul from partaking in truth. And in this pool whose essence engulfed me from head to…
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Once, a long time ago I met this boy. He was beautiful in my eyes. At one point I was fascinated with him. I wanted to believe that he had travelled all the way to San Francisco, on a simple whim to meet me. I wanted to believe that for once, someone had done that…
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I’ve dyed my hair. I am Mónica Naranjo à l’époche ‘Palabra de Mujer.’ I am a bad boy! Sitting with my legs crossed in form of a four, sipping a bitter-sweet latte, I find on occasion myself staring at (yes at and not out) the window at my side. Here, I see my reflection; everything…
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I don’t see myself publishing anything until next week. I guess this is called a … what’s that word? I don’t know. A breath of fresh air is what I badly need. For now, I leave you with this: This loneliness that I feel Doesn’t heal, doesn’t vanish If I lie to you that everything…