domingo, 28 de diciembre de 2008


The world should crumble, and bury us all
so we can finally rest

Our shattered bones could at last disappear in tiny pieces
turning into dust, there is an end

We can endure whatsoever
Those alive and forgotten are always too hard to drive

Maybe it's our nature,
maybe we're just insane

miércoles, 24 de diciembre de 2008

Satan Behind Me

you won't disappear, the butterflies will wither and die,
and there won't be peace
I am chaos, and darkness
and I only wait for the world to tear apart
if only the knife could cut your skin in half, so I can see through ourselves
but I don't want to
I've become one with the devil, and so you shall name me
for I have lost hope
and I have lost love
and everything

domingo, 9 de noviembre de 2008


I’ve heard there’s a place
where people go when they don’t know what else to do
I can’t tell you how to get there
I have no directions or address
I can only tell you to follow that road
and get lost... lost into the night
you’ll find it, I know you will
you’ll know it when you see the neon lights...

lunes, 22 de septiembre de 2008

Last Hope Motel: Eraser.

Outside, the clapping thunder announces a storm's coming. Soon it'll be here. Its noise is starting to get to my nerves... to think I came here in the first place because of the city's unbearable noise. I can't work with it. The big city and its highways always consumed in traffic jams, sidewalks crowded with people talking unceasingly, kids on every park crying and laughing loudly, the sky obscured by its tall skyscrapers and airplanes... it's so fucking irritating...

And just when you'd think that going to the desert -where there's literally no one- would relieve you of the city's noises, then you have to face a storm, and a big one. The rain’s already starting to pound hard against the cheap ceiling.

"You'll be just fine, you're going to love the desert's landscape, it'll be nice and quiet" said the stupid cow back home. She even made the reservation for this cheap motel, couldn't she've found a worst place? Anyhow, I've brought everything I could possibly need to work here, from my notebook computer to my espresso machine and coffee brand. "You're exaggerating,” she said. Well, I don't give a fuck what she says. Anyway, everything's set up. I've been working non-stop for the last couple of hours. If it weren't for that goddamn storm it would be perfect...

Holy shit what was that! All the lights went out... I'll be damned if a lightning struck the fucking place! Shit I don't know when was the last fucking time I saved! Fuck! Don't panic, don't panic... Sure it's a momentary thing, the place should have an auxiliary power plant for these kind of situations... Oh God, please tell me I didn't lose those last hours of work, please, please! When did I save for the last time? If I were back home she'd be all over me bitchin' "I told ya! I told ya to always save after you finish a draft". I know that's what she'd be bitchin' over and over, like that's gonna make any difference at all... Why aren't the lights back on already? Isn't there a fucking janitor around!? I try to reach for the phone but I accidentally spill the coffee all over the table. Fuck! I can't see a fucking thing, just glimpses when lighting flashes... Damn it! I spilled the coffee all over the keyboard. It turns off. Desperately I take my shirt off to try and clean up the fucking mess... Then the lights are back on.

In an act of stupidity I don’t wait for the inner circuits to fully dry and go ahead and try to turn it back on; it doesn’t. Instead it starts to smell like something’s burnt. I grab my head between my hands. I need to calm down and think clearly. I can’t stay here anymore; I need to get that computer fixed. I can’t afford to lose all the information stored there, I can’t loose all the hours worth of work… or I’m fired. Hell, I’m fucked

Outside the storm roars angry. It’s gonna be dangerous to drive with this weather, but I have to give it a try… I hastily pack everything and get ready to leave. Then the lights are out again. Fuck! With the lighting flashes as my only guide I make it to the lobby. It’s flooded; there’s no one. I don’t bother to call someone for the check out, it’s not like I’m paying for this shit. They can sue me later if they want to. I push the entrance door. It’s difficult to open with all the mud blocking it. As I open it more water floods the Motel’s first floor. I finally exit... and… and I can’t believe my eyes: my car, apparently the only one left in the parking lot, lies submerged in the mud like it were a crashed plane, its nose deeply buried into the ground and its rear high against the sky.

This is madness… it’s like this accursed damn place hates me…

I… I can’t take it… I just can’t… I can’t take it anymore. Tears of rage begin to run down my eyes. Instinctively, my hands let go off my baggage. I don’t give a shit anymore. I open my briefcase in search of my Glock 9mm. It’s loaded and I’m ready. I shot the car’s trunk open. Inside there’s an emergency gas can I take with me. I feel like killing somebody, anybody… I go back inside.

domingo, 13 de julio de 2008

Last Hope Motel: Pitch Black.

I wake up in the middle of the night, scared, crying, my nerves shattered... I can't see a thing, I find it hard to breath, I cough... I can't stop crying... It takes me a while to remember where I am as my eyes slowly adjust themselves to the darkness... I recognize the broken TV set and the paint falling from the dirty walls and I remember I'm here, lying in the bed of a forgotten motel room in the middle of nowhere... then I remember everything...

I was torn apart a night like any other, at the age of fourteen. That night I was walking down the street like I always used to. Then four men raised from the dark, unseen. They hastily took my clothes off and put a bag on my head. They pushed me and I fell on my back against the pavement, with my underwear down my ankles. They almost beat me senseless. They spread my legs and one by one let me feel their weight all over me... inside me. I couldn't scream; I didn't make a sound.

I recall everything that happened on that night, like still photographs from a sad movie, second by second playing in my mind.

So I wake up crying in the middle of the night, not knowing why. I find myself in complete darkness, so I suddenly realize the bag´s again on my head. I try hysterically to stop them, to repel them, not wanting to be hurt any more... but it´s too late... they fuck me every time they want; they come and go in and out of my soul every time they want.
Sometimes I smell their foul breath intoxicating the air. It might happen in the middle of a sunny day, and I know it´s absurd, but the smell just won´t leave me... so I start crying in panic, fearing they´re behind me, again, waiting for me to turn back and start it all over from the beginning... It doesn't matter, they don´t need me to turn around, not even touch me, to fuck me.

viernes, 18 de enero de 2008

Last Hope Motel: Devourer

The blood dries in my mouth while the tiny scraps of flesh lie scattered on the blankets. As I look away the sunlight slowly leaves the room through the window throwing me into this darkness, a darkness only lit by the neon sign outside... Tomorrow there won't be a beautiful dawn to stare at, the same way as there won't be someone to share this cold and cloudy night.

It was supposed to be perfect, I know. After you helped me run away from my home there was nothing that could get between us... except ourselves.
I shouldn't have left you, but I panicked. I'm aware I'm just a stupid little girl for running away... I feel so miserable for hurting you...

...I take another bite ripping off a little more skin...

I think of you often. I want to see you again, to hold you... my fingers dial your number with a will of their own, but I can't bring myself to talk to you 'cause I know you're never coming back with me; not since I left in the middle of the night, scared of committing to you...

Now I have nowhere to go; I have no family and no lover; there's no one to look after me. This anxiety's driving me mad... The only thing I do is sit on this corner and eat my fingernails, desperately... what am I saying? I ate my fingernails already... so I've began to tear the flesh off my fingers... if only the pain and the taste of blood in my mouth could cast away this emptiness I'm feeling...

...In this motel days go by one after another monotonously... and I can't sleep with you still living inside of me...

martes, 1 de enero de 2008

Last Hope Motel: Memories.

I’ve been driving for hours, wandering. Suddenly I see a diner at the side of the road. I park my car and go inside. The place's gloomy and dirty, like if it were abandoned years ago... it feels so lonely... there's only another customer beside me; I can't see him clearly but he appears to be an old man. I sit down and order a lime pie; I’m asked in return where I’m heading. “I don’t know” I answer. The old waitress goes to the counter to get my pie and comes back with it. “Well my dear, If you follow that road, after a couple hours you’ll see neon lights in the horizon. If you don’t know where to go, go there” she says with an afflicted grimace.

I ask her for a pencil and a piece of paper; she kindly hands them to me. I start writing: “So here I am, writing this letter to you. I haven’t done this in a while… I don’t recall the last time I wrote a letter to anyone… I never wrote you a letter... It doesn’t matter anyway.

I miss you so much... I miss the way your harsh look can be so sweet as soon as your funny dimple shows up on your left cheek everytime you smile, the tender way your hands touch me and how you always stare at me; God, I felt so loved and secure when you did that... the way you hug me... This isn't good, thinking about all that... I’m growing weary of looking at your photographs and paintings and listening to the music we enjoyed so much together; it hurts me, it keeps me thinking about you. All the good things, everything that was great between you and me is killing me… killing me very slowly, like a stake to the heart gently driven into my chest.

I don’t know why I’m writing this. Since you ran away nobody knows where you are so the most probable thing is that you’ll never read this… Where are you? You only left a good-bye note. I’ve looked everywhere, I’ve asked everyone; but you’re nowhere to be found and no one knows of your whereabouts. It’s like you had entirely disappeared from the land of the living. Was it so bad with me? Were our differences so contradictory? Weren’t you happy with me after I did everything to please you? Or is that you found another girl, someone better, prettier? If that’s so why didn’t you tell me? It'd hurt less; it'd be a lot easier to get over you if you would've had the decency to tell me what the hell happened!

*I sigh exhausted*

I think maybe I’ll disappear too. Everything reminds me of you. Your presence's everywhere in my room; it’s in the pillows and in the closet; it’s in my clothes and in my underwear… Damn it, I fear it’s even inside of me!

I need to get away from here. I need to breathe another air that isn’t yours… It’s a shame I didn’t write this letter earlier, before leaving home; I’d have left it on the bed where you made love to me so many times. In that way if someone ever came looking for me he’d know I went away looking for some mysterious neon lights”.

It's getting darker, I'd better be going.