I love this man

 I love this man.

As I watch you tell me stories, you move your face and hands almost in slow motion and the reflection of this warm light on your skin turns you into a painting I adore.

Your infinite eyes show me the depths I could never reach, so I hide my adoration, for only in a different universe, where you and I were free from these heavy chains, could we make each other happy.

Oh how I love this man. But only in another life, you and I, my sun, my moon, we could have found this love intact.

And if ever we cover it in sage and gold, could I see me? Could you let go?

I see us slow dancing in our kitchen, elsewhere, a warm home for us both, happiness. It feel so far, yet I love this man.

I love this man and I will never stop. 

I don't regret my lavender arm, or having fallen for you, I don't regret continuing to love you, or having the joy of watching you get lost in your mind despite the late rain on my path. Despite how small I became, I've learnt and felt so much, I've traveled to my own depths, confronted not only demons but myself. So I thank you, for now I know that my love is only mine.

I love this man and I don't regret the love I have.

La Primavera.

En la madrugada sentí la lluvia, me trajo un sentimiento fulminante de calma y amor, me sentí en casa otra vez. Hoy amaneció soleado como nunca, un calor que no sentía hace ocho meses y las flores nuevas llenaban las calles. Extrañé tanto este amor, pero desperté triste, el vacío en mi pecho creció mientras dormía y al abrir los ojos caí.

No quería salir, pero tuve. Pensé "si voy rápido y vuelvo nada malo puede pasar", me sentí tan débil, pero me convencí porque merezco tener frutas y verduras en mi casa. Merezco hacerme un pastel de choclo, merezco mi amor propio.

En el supermercado al ponerme a la fila no ví a una señora, o eso dijo ella al menos. La pequeña Alemana con mascarilla en vez de decirme, decidió ponerse al frente mío con actitud de niña orgullosa, sin ni mirarme.

"Disculpe" le dije. "Yo estaba ahí, tu no me viste." fue su respuesta, en tono cortante y aún sin mirarme. Un hervor subió por mi cuerpo, estuve atónita unos segundos, conteniendo las lágrimas que se me venían enrabiadas desde el vacío en mi pecho, contenidas por tanto tiempo, y al fin respondí: "Podría haberme dicho, fue un accidente, no haría algo así con intención."

No recibí respuesta ni reacción alguna, la miré poner sus cosas en la banda de la caja, como en cámara lenta, esperé y puse las mías, y mientras se alejaba murmuré: "con razón los viejos Alemanes están tan solos."

No sé si me escuchó, espero que no, me siento culpable por decirle eso a una persona tan antigua, probablemente muy dañada por la vida, por la guerra, por una cultura fría. Una niña orgullosa que cree que todos están en su contra y siente que debe proteger su lugar que ha sido removido incontables veces. 

De camino a casa repetí demasiado la situación en mi cabeza para un camino tan corto. Me topé con otra señora en la parte estrecha del cruce ferroviario, me miró con cariño, la saludé y la dejé pasar, me dio las gracias, sonrió, yo también, seguimos nuestros caminos. Quisiera haberle dicho algo más, agradecer su humanidad, su fuerza para no dejarse llevar por el dolor de estas tierras tan lejanas al corazón pero que piso todos los días. 

Este idioma me contiene y la ansiedad social con el miedo a sus reacciones me tiene siempre andando con cuidado. Es un miedo distinto del que vivía en mi patria, allá podrían asaltarme, matarme, abusarme... Aquí solamente van a ser agresivos y violentos en lenguaje, tratarme como externa, no es una amenaza física, es al corazón, un dolor intenso, sobre todo para los que, como yo, siempre nos hemos sentido alienígenas en este planeta, sin importar la cultura que nos rodee.

Quise vomitar, subí las escaleras y cerré la puerta con llave como siempre para no olvidarlas cuando salga otra vez. Necesité apoyarme contra la pared en la debilidad que me dejó todo esto, dejé las bolsas en la cocina y me puse pantalones cómodos, volví a revivir la situación. Quisiera haberle dicho "Lo siento, no lo hice a propósito". Me sentí frustrada, detesto esta cultura, este idioma. Miré mi casa, mi cerebro se fue a disociar pensando en el orden, el deshacerme de los cachureos, el papel mural que quiero cambiar, el pronto cambio de casa, que la casa está mal distribuída, que, que, que... 

Lloré, con la cara roja y arrugada, con lamentos audíbles, y en cada lágrima fui honesta al fin:

"¿Por qué no soy una persona normal, por qué siento tanta rabia cuando me equivoqué, por qué no pude decir simplemente, lo siento y que pasara, por qué sigue conmigo y no se va y no se va y no se va? ¿Por qué mi cerebro no se calla, piensa y busca y sigue? Estoy exhausta, chata de mi misma a veces.

Quiero estar en casa, esa utopía en el sur de Chile que no sé si es posible tener.

- "quiero morir", pensé otra vez, lloré más porque mi resolución de año nuevo era dejar de desearme la muerte. No quiero odiarme más, no quiero morir más. Pero lo deseé igual, otra vez.

Este tiempo sola o me va a sanar, o me va a matar, y es mi decisión al final.

I'm an Earthquake

 I would be getting ready now as the sun shines. I would have had my healthy breakfast, done my little meditation and exercises, drank a liter of water already. I would have picked the long flowered dress, with boots and the black shirt you gave me. I would have taken a long shower, brushed my skin and done a scalp peeling. I would have carefully chosen my perfume, rubbed cream on and even put on a little make up and done my hair in some nice way.

I would have flossed even though I only do it at night, and I would have smiled at the mirror, even though I can't stand my face, but at least you liked it. At least you loved me, and your face is the one I like too, it's you the one I love.

Instead, I decided to sleep longer and it worked, though nightmares haunted me and my period pain arrived. I still meditated and did my little exercises, I still had my smoothie and drank a liter of water, I still take good care of myself because even without you, I need to prove to myself that I'm worthy, even if I don't smile at the mirror because I hate how I look, I deserve love.

What a rollercoaster it is to be in this world. Even my dreams shake often with the earthquakes of my wounds, no wonder they do when in my veins runs the same soul of my land. The home of earthquakes and volcanos far south, deserts, mountains and the raging ocean splashing on rocks and streets alike. 

I am soil of Chile, lost in the heartless, silver north, where now there's nothing else for me. I hope my beloved friends can keep the dreams for me in this tremor I am, so when the aftershocks fade, my heart still stands ready to move on with them.

Lovender

Finally I had a sex dream of you.

You were sitting there, pants down and your big hard penis, I had a dress and no underwear. I opened my legs and sat on you as a horse, as you slid inside me, I noticed all the people watching us, they watched and watched, so I got off to close the curtains, so many faces and eyes, it was a moment for us yet the whole world got involved. 

My mustard curtains were broken, I closed them and walked back as they opened again slowly. I did the trip twice before freezing in the middle until I thought: "Fuck it." And went over to sit on your now wet, big hard penis. 

I woke up before sitting back down.

In this life, I believe, I've laughed as much as I've cried, so I fear being in complete balance, it may be my time soon. I'm soaking up the full moon's light, topless and missing you. 

I mourn the love we could have had. If I wasn't so blind and you weren't so deaf. If I had a brain and you had skin. What a curse to love so deeply, what a pain to see you part from my side, what a stab to see so clearly how it could have been if we weren't who we are.

I hope after this life, we can grow together as trees, those that live for thousands of years, but in a world where nature is god, so our love roots as deep as it could have been and feeds blessings to all who come near.

I wish you sunshine, I wish you love. Goodbye, my lavender love.

Collection of Sleepy Morning Poems from 2021

April 17th - Homeless

Little bites over my body,
The inside of my lungs,
My brain, my guts.

A tiny monster gnawing,
Parasite of a world, 
Slow and steady. 

Put a lid on, it overflows.
There's no end to
Exponential growth.

How long till you change?
Do we have to die first? 

Despite it all,
Another shitty job, 
I'll be homeless again, soon.

Black hole

I wanted to help you heal, 

yet all I did was hurt you deeper. 

I wanted to coat your heart with my love 

until only scars were left.

I wanted to kiss your harsh edges 

for to show you their worth.

I wanted to bathe you in my warmest embrace

scaring violent memories away.

I wanted to feed you kindness and song 

to free you from self-imposed chains.

There was so much I thought I could 

bring to your wounded soul,

so much I wanted to hold for you.

Yet all I did was to hurt you deeper, 

stab your brain with panic, 

nail your armour down in steel,

erase your golden heart,

and smash your fire till you

no longer could shine.

That is my curse,

all I touch dies, 

slowly, 

and you

were my victim, the one 

I hoped would end this cycle.

Yet history repeated itself, for

my void swallows it all,

and you of all creatures

deserve the sun, 

not 

a black hole.

I'm sorry amor, I promise

I won't hurt no new hearts.

I promise I

won't spread death no more.

I'm sorry you,

love of my all my lives, 

there won't be more 

after you.

No one else,

deserves better,

and despite it all, at times

I wish I'd never been summoned

into this fever dream I

made of you and I.

I'm sorry to have destroyed 

your precious mind.

d e j a - v ú .

 The way some things shine against the light, in specific moments. Ladie's old perfume, voices, tones, melodies, languages... it all, at times, feels like a dream, some sort of deja-vú, the one that the entirety of life is. 
The ocean waves go and come and go, but it's all the same water. I see moments of my life that are yet to happen, abstract but detailed, a feeling, unclear, but mine and interconnected to all the others. It keeps getting better.

I see my lovely trip through this brief existence, meaningless & trivial, almost banal, yet it feels like the entirety of the universe to me.

Your smell was precisely that, the feeling of your skin against mine, your hands, the heat, your fingers shared with mine as they intertwined for the first time, and each time after that. So I can't help but wonder about this we made, a few hours, a few days, here we are, how? Why?
Is there even a meaning to all this, or is it once again life reminding us that there is no such thing as fate? No higher power to hold us when the balance tips off to either side? No justice, no magic. 

-But if so, what is this feeling that implodes infinitely, expanding through all aspects of life as I mourn the death of everything we already did and will never be again? 

What is love but the pure expression of those universal mysteries we can't seem to understand in our wild blindness, our raw presence? 
I want to believe, or is it just that I am tired of fighting this war alone? - As a good Libra, I just can't choose: I want it all and nothing, always and never, but also beyond. A river is supposed to flow, never quite the same, yet deeply grounding within itself. To become the river, I have to let go of it all. I mourn all we can't have again, all the ways in which we didn't meet and the one we did too, for we will nch other again - even though we are still doing it.

Anxiety is hard most times, but especially as I ruminate about the present, the future and the past. Especially in my deja-vús, the connections of memories that aren't real yet, the dreams. I fear this is all just some already-written play that we're just performing, yet it brings deep ease since it would mean all this, with you, has a reason to be, a higher reason, not just what I can learn from those full-body shivers you gave me as your fingers danced through my skin and you grabbed me with your full hands, wanting, craving, having. Not just how we laughed dancing openly, not just the waiting for sunrise, not the way your toes reached out softly when I placed mine closer, not just the way both your arms wrapped around me or how we looked into each others' minds. Not any of that, but further. Not a conscious, but higher, bigger, more than me and you.

But if god is water and I am water, then I am god and it all comes back down exactly to that which I can learn from the mundane. Not a further fate, but a teaching, a mindset; that deeply lonely isolation, yet eternally interconnected black hole I am, and you are, and everyone is. It's all the same water, it's all the same universe, and we're profoundly different, yet exactly the same. 

How do we live with such contradictions?
How do we understand that magic is just mundane?

Thank you, for filling up those needs. Snowball effect, but worth it even if only for a night. 

I have more wishes now and I think I know why you came into my life. Magic is mundane and this is definitely magic. I hope I don't scare you, I hope I'm understood, but mostly I just have to remind myself - don't be scared, let go and float on.

Brain Dump, last day of the year.

 Arbitrary, but most humans in the world have the same energy, can you feel it vibrating around us? It's all about change and new beginnings, even if to the universe and to our nature, it means nothing at all. That's how powerful we are, we can make magic if we focus our minds and hearts on a similar goal, but we are so divided. 

I keep thinking of Gaza, the pains that underlie our days, though, for those living it daily, it's not underlying. How can we be letting this happen again, keep happening? How did it get to be so bad and how come there is no stopping the US, once more?

Follow my routines, take care of my brain, body and heart, yet how can anyone truly live under such systems that can, and happily would, murder us for the power of someone who has more money or simply is on the side of evil. At times I wonder if we're actually living in some sort of epic fantasy novel, or dystopian sci-fi, only with a terrible ending; all those things we said to calm our children after a horror film: "It's only a movie, those things don't happen in real life", those things aren't true anymore. We are living the horror, and we have been living the horror for centuries, only it hasn't happened on this land of white flowers that somehow climbed their way to the highest mountains and desecrated how to make use of our existence. 

It's weird to look like a white flower, they tend to open up to me in search of support, but I'm no white flower, and the more I meet my colourful flower friends, I realize how I've been trying to belong somewhere it's not home.

15 minutes have passed in a blank, but I have so much more to say.

Some compassion, some trial and error, some wishes for tomorrow.

 

Will I ever be free from this masking that's kept me in the shadows, frozen in fear and pain?
 Will I ever feel like a human, or will I never experience the joy of belonging?

I wanted to write, for today I almost threw up from emotions, a tension my heart couldn't handle, a talk that went well, yet felt impossible and too messy, how did I get here?

Now I'm anxious and lonely, disconnected and wishing for dissociation, I'm stopping myself from that, instead, I'm trying to connect with myself.
A broken self.
I've been caught up making lists, so I am reaching out for creativity tonight. A candle, some tea: 

Where have you gone?
Darkness has taken your place and there's not much to hold on to, a novel sadness came to greet me at the airport, the usual relief simply observed from afar.
I felt for days how this void of a heart I own, began to move erratically as the end approached; she was waving a painful greeting, reminding me that she would pay me a visit. Here she is and I have fallen entirely once again, and of course, I've bled onto you as well.

I have a class to prepare, but I want to sing, yet I write instead. Fear keeps me from the class, tension from the second and the third is only happening in disconnection from the self. No creation is combusting, just bumpy words.

It's only with practice that this may come back to me. 

Remember all the poetry you wrote each morning? All until the snobby kid said it had no rhythm. Why do you believe those who only see art through the lens of academia? Just like with politics and Germans, why would you have ever trusted them when they love to hate?
Just like those intrusive thoughts and wrong logic, this brain formulates, it's not true. It only reinforces those horrors of the past, but this is something new.

Even if you fear and distrust. This is something new.

Take another deep breath, think of your class, then sing a little and try again tomorrow corazón.

Scripts, only my brain isn't ready; a dump.

 I mean, it's nice, but triggering. 

So many years waiting for you to come home, it feels like a lifetime away now, yet it's imprinted in me.

You're the shadow that never materialized,
the noises that scared me each night
and the feelings that went crumbled into the trash.

Sitting here in silence I feel peace, only it mixes with the memory of those green trousers and the washed out bears shirt, long, blond hair, giant green eyes.
I was just a child. 
Terrified.

Hypersensitive and out of place. 

I don't know if I was born alien or became through the rejection, I still wonder why you decided to have another child, I wonder why did he at all?

_____

Sitting here in silence I feel all my feelings, it's such a deep experience, the mood swings, coming out of nowhere. I have no idea what's up until it overwhelms my heart, I could never have felt so clearly before this moment. I keep growing, learning and trying, yet somehow my house keeps breaking; I just want a home and some peace. 

Not just really, I would rather have the world changed, February 2027 say those who claim to know. I just hope by then I am at least with you. Not just really.
My brain is so confused, it pushes and pulls every single option that could exist, maybe I have commitment issues. Or maybe it's just how I don't know what I want ever. 

All I know right now is that being here alone, despite the triggers, makes it very clear that I need to be truly alone in order to find what's inside my heart. And that terrifies me.
I also fear I'll become more alien and more scared of people once I return, if I did.

Where is this place to retreat?
It's interesting how the older I get, the more I settle into this very dissatisfying reality. Despite its incredible potential, humans decided to divide themselves into teams and play war, force one another, threaten and hurt. Created a whole system to support the illusion of division, represented by hierarchies, countries, races, class and identity politics, so you can pretend you're not hurting yourself, you're not cancer. Only, you are and now we're all temporarily trapped into your system, not even you yourselves can stop it.

You destroyed the unbelievable human experience on this marvellous planet, for absolutely nothing.

______

So yes, I still wonder if the my alien thoughts came from experiencing this devastating reality, or from within, this sensory processing disorder, being wired kind of funny. 

"haha" you'd say.

_______

If I manifest it, will it become true?

A knitting-illustrating-writing corner, getting requests for knitted goods, printing illustrations and seeing my book in real life, hard cover, even bookbinding it myself, with an embroidered cover.

- Go further.

Half the population, only those who can deeply and truly love, in my forest home fits everyone I love and loves me, and is happy, at peace, lovingly compassionate and caring. Money isn't a thing, we work the land, we live by the seasons, we travel to ruins and remember to never get back to that.

_______

Maybe when we die, we actually end the simulation. Maybe that's also a game and maybe there is no reality at all. We are absolutely nothing, really.
Terrifying, this void. But it's so meaningful, this existence, this love, this life. What a pleasure and what a curse to have a body.
Oh, to have a body.

Claustrophobia in this bag of skin and psychosis of the heart. There is no heart, it's always been the mind, which is also the intestine. It sounds as if I lied, I don't. There is no brain and no intestine, it's all chemical reactions, so why am I so jealous, so shy and so scared?

How do I stop being so caught up in this game when I know it's nothing but that: Chemicals within a skin bag?

_______

Maybe tomorrow I'll manage to write the scripts, but I needed this peace, this creativity and freedom to let this frustrated brain roam through the chemical reactions. What a body I have, even if it's not like the bodies you may watch...

What a marvellous body I have. - yet the brain is a harder one: Infinitely caught up. So smart yet so dumb. 
How do I get over myself? I already know the truth and the universe is on my side, it's difficult to let go of that which you have experienced as truth, especially if everything around you supports that hypothesis. 

hypothermia. 

antithesis. 

antithermia?

____

Beach house, but why are you someone else now that you're gone? It's confusing and triggering to know you are rigid here, yet free there. Is it always like that? Maybe that's why I can't climb you up.
Body disgust, learn my fellow alien, to lean into the disgrace of being a human and enjoy this vomit-inducing reality, you'll be fine.

I used to think I knew what I felt, until I decided to start doubting each emotion that came, is it loneliness or peace? What if it's not bad, what if this is just love? - Do that with our pathetic humanity. Learn to touch me without those breaks; maybe you'll take me where you want then and we'll see brighter ahead.

Tantrum (6/12/22)

I don't know if it's the planets, the circumstances of my current reality or the simple, usual issues of my childhood traumas. Still, here I am again, depressed, disconnected, without a clue of what to do and drowning in the confusion of my emotions and thoughts.

Chaos.

He writes to me and I don't know what to reply, the default comes up and I just want to trigger him to get a reaction, but that's not who I am, that's just my trauma response, so somehow I am left at a loss for anything. As if I was stranded in the desert, nothing but sand in sight, the sun perfectly up high, not even my shadow can be seen; my heart jumps into what she knows, longs for home, the abusive, neglecting and diminishing home we know, but thankfully my brain just keeps us still and asks:
What do you feel? What do you want, not what you long for in pain, but if it was up to you entirely, if this was the perfect world for you; if you were exactly who you want to be, what would you like to receive? - We can ask now, I know you're scared, hurt and lost, but if you tell me what it is that you need, I can try to make it come true. For I am here and I will not, ever, abandon you, my dearest child.

Even after such loving words and compassion, she hides behind walls of reactivity. So many emotions that aren't real, just a hurricane of them and I can't reach the eye of the storm. She's sitting there, alone, crying, longing for connection, for compassion, for love, how can I get to you? For I'm standing on the other side, arms wide open, in hopes you can trust me again, despite all the pain I have caused you with my cowardry and ignorance. I'm here now, I'm fully here now, for us, forever.

_____

Ah, trust... - He did turn into all those men, it wasn't as simple as it felt after that couple of talks. Much easier than in the past, yet I've been too hurt too much.
My loveliest girl, with her baggy green joggers and that white shirt with some washed-out print of some teddy bears, it reminds me of your "fuck the police" one. She's still tossing and turning, pushing and pulling, a full tantrum inside my heart, fully surrounded by such impenetrable walls, alone, wishing. Yes, we can ask now, but the fear has also eaten my tongue. Am I still abandoning you each time I don't say what I want, each time I stay too long or leave too soon? 
Treasure of my heart, I want to be a team, I want joy and play and fun, for us both. I want fulfilment and to understand our needs so I can provide us with the healthy, beautiful, satisfactory life we deserve. I'm lost without you, would you take a deep breath and dare to hold my hand again?