Her siren song is my liquid trap.
She comes back dead of cold, with a broken glass of the moon between her teeth.
Did you bite the moon? -I ask
Then she closes her heart and anesthetizes the words.
He fixes his gaze on some cosmos on the floor.
And his hair in a flock is surprised that this way
fought for death
she hold on.
I can't help flying over her lips to collect the blood
with my tongue.
But this woman goes up and down like a gas balloon.
So I follow her, I go up and down, behind her of her Aztec lineage
while the orphan night tries to embrace us.
Our language disappears where the wind blows out the letters.
Then we wait.
Let her flow.
We lie to each other.
We lie that it is dawn.
And in that place or time where the sun roars,
before the flowers die,
there where winter sings ...
We landed on a scarlet sea
To wonder what we will do
What will we do when the horse is executed between terrified sheets?
What will we do when our hands are free and they want to gallop?
What will we do when we no longer ask for kisses as alms?
What will we do when we weigh less, need air and want to fly?
What will we do when we get cuts,
when we can't forget that the music that made us twins is in life imprisonment
What will we do when your hair trembles
And my chest bites
and there is no time to love us?