Don't wake us up when tomorrow arrives, we'd rather be dreamers

jueves, 26 de diciembre de 2013

Un 24 de Noviembre me encontré frente a una computadora...



Ya dije incontables veces que soy una romántica incurable, sin esperanzas. Mi reino es de sueños de cristal, vapores de azúcar y una lluvia de lágrimas que disuelve y empapa. Es un reino prácticamente vacío, en ruinas, sumido en el mutismo de una fijación casi obsesiva, si bien escasamente fructífera o al menos diversa; las corrientes convergen en un mismo punto, desafortunadamente cualquier diversificación posterior o anterior se ve descartada al concluir que simplemente se debe a que no son más que vértebras de una misma columna, y que si hay nervios o vasos que la atraviesen y se ramifiquen, estos sirven sólo para un único e idéntico propósito.

A pesar de todo, la mente conserva menor densidad que la realidad circundante y a veces eso es una bendición y otras, todo lo contrario; qué ocasión amerita cada cual es algo que no he logrado discernir todavía, aunque posiblemente jamás me embarque en la pertinente travesía deductiva. Es preferible, o más conveniente, desovillar las hilachas de las fútiles ilusiones de intención puerilmente evasiva, por más que el resultado final, o el recorrido mismo, más veces que no resulta amargamente insatisfactorio, insuficiente.

Si bien la tirantez entre mis omóplatos y la incomodidad de la superficie bajo mis pies es algo que difícilmente puedo ignorar, esto no logra arraigarme efectivamente a la realidad presente, sino simplemente a mi inevitable condición de materia, consiguiendo establecer un meridiano por el que transito diariamente sin comprometerme demasiado con un hemisferio o el otro. Y si lo que importa es, realmente, lo que está en la superficie y no lo que más pesa y toca fondo, me veo irremediablemente obligada a preponderar las fantasías sobre lo palpable, por más que sea vagamente consciente de que la dimensión material es lo que primordialmente da lugar a cualquier otro aspecto de mi persona, reino de sueños incluido.

Cito a Bécquer en El rayo de luna para explicitar la incompetencia que me aqueja, de la misma manera que al soñador de la historia: "Había nacido para soñar con el amor, no para sentirlo". Si nos apoyamos en este principio y lo extrapolamos a cada componente de lo que se puede considerar uno mismo, podríamos decir que nací para soñar con la vida y no para vivirla, esto bien podría explicar mi perpetuo desinterés por lo sensorial y materialmente verdadero, aunque no otorga con claridad el motivo subyacente a tal postulado. Podría aventurarme a decir que se debe a mi prematuro enamoramiento con la soledad, la melancolía y el misterio, pero entonces no sabría reconocer si son la causa o meramente el efecto.

(I give) My love (to you)

I sometimes can't help
but wonder
whether you'll be a smooth scar
or a throbbing ulcer


Won't take me for a fool

Do not believe
I know not
about your
wicked ways

You play
the oldest tricks
in the book

And, I remind you,
I've read it
thoroughly
a hundred times

(Would you be surprised
if I say
a few of them have been written by my hand?)

But this is a game
two can very well play

Yet,
how could you tell
what is
pretence
and what is
intent?

Ah, but you were the one
who made the first move
and left me behind
at the start

It could have been
us
against
the world
and destroy everyone
-everything
in an ecstatic pace

But you decided against
set for
you vs. me
instead

One thing
I tell you:
I never
lose

Not ever

Not even for you

Out of grasp

There was
a time
when I believed
I was right

What did I see?
How could have I
deceived myself
so
d
e
e
p
l
y
?

Spent
my days
wondering
in
dreams,
and the night
was no more
than a
b
   l
    i
   n
k

You were
the most
beautiful
thing

You were
a balm
for my soul

You were,
but you are
no more

If I could,
just one more time,
hold you dearly,
gaze into
the universe
beyond your
eyes

No more
stars for me,
no bigger mass
to gravitate around-
just a stray
scrap of
space-rubbish
shifting
a i m l e s s l y
in the dark

And
in complete absence
of light,
I have forgotten
how I look like

Cissexism, gender-phobia and other nuisances

~°~
I remember that time when
one of my classmates back at nursery school
wanted to get tattooed
It was a fairly simple design of two profiles
-one of a dog, the other of a cat
curled up and linked by their necks
in the shape of a heart
The problem was that she wanted to get
a specific dog profile, which was that
of her own deceased dog
but the alleged tattooist
had told her the details wouldn't show up
due to the relatively small size
-by the way, it was not that small
I asked her, then, why didn't she go
for a bigger size
She answered me that it was big enough,
that if she got inked something bigger on her arm
she would look like a butch
She ended up getting it tattooed on her calf

When I got my septum piercing
and the IT technician enquired
why on earth someone would get
jewellery shoved through a hole in their nose
I offered him my own reasons
and, furthermore, told him that a lot of tribes
had done it for centuries
as a rite of passage for their men
He mockingly said that
no man would ever be one
if he went through such affair

Back at high-school,
a friend of mine had not cut his hair in a while
and by then it barely reached the base of his neck
I recall I thought his gentle curls looked enchanting
Unfortunately, the rules pertaining the school uniform
didn't quite agree with my opinion
for a man ought to keep his hair short
One day, without any further warning than a drily uttered
"you should get a haircut" from the preceptor's mouth,
the deputy headmaster came into our classroom,
spotted him, grabbed a pair of scissors
and proceeded to cut a chunk of his hair off
To this day I reprimand myself
for nor standing up to that atrocity

~°~
But when you try to insult me
saying I'm not girlie enough,
and I laugh
When you contemptuously
tell me I look like a boy,
and I answer "Thank you"
keep this in mind:
I do not give a fuck about gender

So don't believe that
self-consciousness or insecurity
are the root of my anger
when you display your patronising believes
through your parrot-fashioned rant of gender roles
Your mindset is what pains me,
and knowing that it is people like you
who keep caging everyone,
even yourselves,
in an archaic cubic cell

And each of you is a brick in the wall
which prevents humanity from reaching liberation
through self-expression, assurance
and accepting the fact that we are all humans
and we have the right to live in peace with ourselves