{I’m sorry, the original language of this is in spanish…}
Nights like these I’m thinking about her … Yes, that immaculate human being that has disrupted my thoughts from that warm winter where only overwhelming connection consolidated under the spell of my guitar. My mind is constantly fighting against her memory, that should have being faded, a memory that supposedly should have being forgotten, however, I look at the moon and I can only remember those green, big that someday I admired with benevolence and I let my imagination to fly and to write “Medusa.” The little muse of my regrets is more real than the pain that I have on my body, pain that is unnamed and is marked with crimson ink that runs through my veins, like a tattoo that will never be erased. Cowardice is mediocre and sometimes courage is stupid, stupid people who never have experienced or are simply masochists.
The disdain for my own suffering has wreaked havoc; I can only hear the steady click of my laptop and the bitter sound of a cigarette butt that gives me a sigh toxic to continue denying my inner bitterness. The little muse of my regrets is out there in my sorrows, and I think that will continue. Just from looking at a simple image that makes me remember her shape, my body trembles and shrinks, wrinkling my eyebrows reacted savagely hard, and after enduring the shock of having to see her again, a slight smile appears on my lips and I just close my eyes, to admire it from inside my heart where I can love without fear.
The misfortune was a punishment that I have given, for covering me in a cage I have an invisible sign that says “danger”, perhaps if it is, maybe not, I just know that now I’m suffering the consequences of my soul that a time starred in slow rejection while suggestive, my soul will always reproach the last sentence it heard before it died again, “You’re the happy part of my life”, since then, I still translucent, just as ghastly as the left in those old days, but my body has become inert and trembling and sobbing to get the soul back I was punished for loving the wrong person and this time took over my thoughts, the muse I always wanted was in front of me, but my eyes had blindfolded, to the point of permeating the thin layer of yield in my eyes and be completely blind. Upon opening was gone, and ultimately could never tell her that every day practicing at night while spinning in my bed immersed in uncertainty and fear.
Even hiss and run my hands over my face fighting with my mind if my words will be sharp blades that cut the lowly finish line of fabric that united us, or worse … Let us together again and love me pay. The irony of this is my contradiction at all, because my soul wants to leave with her but at the same time doesn’t want to, so I’ve been a long time. My hands sweat and my heart beats slower than normal, sometimes I feel like dying and other days I feel that they are illusions, and my mind is atrophied and tired, and this is my cowardice, I could never say clearly what my heart cries in drowning.
by fuckyeahkatz