.es cíclico.

Muerte continua,
que baila a mí alrededor,
en mi monótono camino a casa.

Bajo el gris plata de las nubes,
envuelto por la húmeda atmósfera,
le busco una razón a la vida.

Las respuestas son escasas,
el camino siempre igual
guiado por la misma desolada calle de siempre.

Mientras el agobiante calor me ahoga,
esa sensación de muerte sigue danzando
y me abraza con sus sedosos brazos.

Sensación fresca,
con su suave tentación
me lleva a ella.

Sensación de vacío,
que, con el simple ruido del viento,
le dan un sentido a mi ser.

Llego a mi destino,
para mañana volver a partir
por la misma desolada calle.




Sublime rutina.
si no fuese por ella,
no apreciaría lo que no tengo…

No answer

Realizing that everything was fake,
I'm concerned about us two,
Suddenly, our magic seemed a mistake,
and you didn't even noticed too.

Understanding this new abysm,
which stands between us,
For me, its existence, is even painful to realize,
but you seem to be blind.

I gave to you my being, as I swore I would,
as all real friends do,
but I'm forced to this destiny,
of loosing you.

Like a déjà vu,
I see these repeated scenes,
chasing me, they don’t let me go,
but I know the ending of this story,
and it is me as the fool.

I trusted again on having someone like you,
beside me, as I thought you would,
Is that the mistake?
'cause I want to believe that what I'm searching for, exists.
Or I'm laying on an pointless dream?

I'm only sure about something,
and it is that I’m realizing things I should have seen before.