viernes, 16 de octubre de 2009

a sunny day in manhattan

it is sad and
somehow funny man

sad that you are still in love with her
that you still cannot sleep because of her
that it still hurts you when you realise she is not yours
that there is another mouth biting her back
her ass
her groins with monstrous

another mouth much more hungry that yours
much bigger than yours
much more dirty
much more violent

another mouth that could break your dusty bones
with one flick of his eyes
a mouth that could drink the blood coming out from your neck
Without the slightest hesitation


it is somehow sad,
to be in your position
you tasted it
we know
and now you are thinking about all that
thinking about that other tongue eating your dessert like a damn barbarian
licking her soft soft tight pussy
her ribs
the palms of her hands

sure it is something that can drive a man like you crazy

it is hard to envision
to assume
that you
with all your brick like,
barb wired
letters, words and poems
that look like unsalted smashed potatoes
dead dogs
and empty rooms
have nothing to do...

there is no sense in
trying to be The Chaser
Lou Reed
The Old Drinker
or whoever you are reading right to now...
pretending to be tough
wishing you had the balls

no use

come and get it
if you want the snake
show me the real you
I crave for it
I deserve it
I wanna see the colour of your fists
I am ready


... until that moment I will caress her cold belly with the tips of my fingers
and she will smile while she roasts my bones
because she burns everything
haven't you notice?
she burns the doors,
the walls
the desktops
the machines
the circus tops
the meat
she burns the whole warehouse
and where there is nothing left
she smokes and throws her matches over the dessert


all that sadness is a waist of time and energy
I am telling you
it is nonsense for you to think about the fact that
another dick is in her flesh everyday right now
that you still miss her
that you masturbate with her silky body in your mind
like it was a bayonet taking you to war
no sense

it is sad and funny
because it is not your fault
and because all of us have been in the very same place as you
we've been in the restrooms
in the cars
alone at home in front of sick computers
4:00 am
surrounded by the bugs
feeling the teeth of the beasts so close
we have think about her
in the cheap hotels
in the smallest and darker hovels in Chinatown
the dives in Bombay
the flophouses in Bari

there are no secrets for us

We have met the models
the princesses
the whores
and we are still jerking off like ghosts
in the cold night
running to the swimming pool
killing ourselves
dancing in the Coney Island bulbs


We know all that...
you can bet your semi bald head
and listen kid,
we don't give a fuck