The visions interlace
becoming a monochromatic mass.

They sleep in my imaginary uterus...
There, they remain warm
and are wrapped out 
of the evils of the world
while getting ready
to dilate their pupils
and let the light go through
Their photosensitive skins.

Did I find them?
Or did they find me?
…It’s God who decides
To put them into my flesh
and forces me to give birth on knees?

... I bid with all my strength
finding pleasure in pain
and in the dissociation of my being

And finally I see them:
little nymphs come out
from the waterfall of my belly
and the darkness of my viscera ...

Still wet with insecurities,
Dirty of the sebum of my beliefs.
Not totally accustomed
to the misfortunes of the earth
nor the larvae and beetles
That perch in the trees.

Some other times they come out cleaner,
more pure and grown,
but without so much beauty ...
without the delicacy of who can die
if being sharply manipulated.

Then I take them in my arms,
I watch them
And create lullabies
to swing them
and make them dream 
 polymorphic universes
of multicolored skins
and names that never were said.

Image: Pinterest. 

Can love being defined?

Some time ago someone asked me:

What is love for you?... And I was speechless...

How in such simple words 
could such a complex paradigm fit?... 

Why couldn't I answer a six-word question
 that didn't contain any riddles 
or algebraic problems? ...

It took me years to understand
 that love cannot be defined…

It cannot be contained, 
nor controlled... 
and much less limited. 
It is the only impulse impossible to stop... 
the only force impossible to handle. 
Love is like the wind: doesn´t get caught.
 It camouflages, transmutes... 
It dresses as a worm or as a butterfly, 
it has translucent nuances, 
it is holographic and fluorescent. 
Love enlightens, clarifies the shadows,
 floats, swims to the surface. It is like the sun:
 although they try to cover it, 
it slips through the slits and under the doors, 
it reflects in the water, creates invisible waves,
 and swirls in the air...
 Love surpasses us, regenerates us, expands us 
and explodes inside our bodies 
like a sleeping volcano,
 with no apparent noise 
but with the power 
of a thousand atomic bombs ...
 it is the true Apocalypse:
 the most beautiful destruction ever lived,
 the greatest renewal ever sought.
 Love finds us no matter how well we hide, 
and transforms us to the core. 
It invades us without remedy 
and metastasizes where it wants. 
Nothing suppress it, 
nothing expels it,
 nothing stops it. 
It feeds on its own through lives and years
 or suddenly extinguishes. 
Love plays to transform us
 and laughs at our tears,
 it has no compassion: 
he knows that this is the only way 
to touch our collapsed fibers and rebuild them... 
he knows that only from him 
we can reach our own sky 
and tear our own flesh... 
he knows that only from him
 we can overcome fear and defeat ourselves... 
he knows that only from him
 we can move towards the purest that was given to us: 
the very vulnerability of being born human...


Smells good inside: The key of attraction

I know that a man really attracts me when the smell that comes from inside him, is pleasant to my senses. Sometimes delicious. And I don´t mean the cologne, nor the sweat of his skin, much less the breath; This essence comes directly from the oxygen that surrounds his body, more accurately, from the airstream released by the lungs.

I have met men with extra fresh breath. With light healthy smell, similar to the breeze ... with a sweetness irresistible to me, and necessary to stay.

From others, conversely, I breathed stenches, as if they were lacking life inside, as if they were half withered in the soul and that was reflected in a steam similar to the one that comes out of a warm egg, of bad dried clothes packed in the closet, of wet cardboard, of dead corpses... then I ran away. Poor confused beings! but, how do you tell a man that you rejected him because you don´t like how he smells inside? Does that make any sense?

On the other hand, him, my most recent discovery, is particular: his inward has a woody note but is fresh, healthful; I can say that maybe he has art flowing through his organs and his inside has bright earth colors... What comes from his center is deep and mysterious because it left me without strength; it injected peace in my body...

I have breathed him only once... when we met I couldn´t perceive anything (there are also some of them, that even though you get close enough, they remain unidentifiable, absolutely nothing special, unnoticed for nose and spirit) I don´t understand if it´s a chemistry matter or mere physical perception. The fact is that just until that night I could discover him: we were lying face to face, and while his kisses kissed mine, I took to the deepest the air that his body exhaled; and when it arrived at my diaphragm, I felt a lightning into my blood: there was some drug in my system: the undeniable effect of a muscle relaxant. There I gave up... I melted inside his hands and I couldn´t do anything else, just stay still, motionless, submerged in his aroma.

I grabbed as much as I could, like a thief. Put his nose as close as possible to mine, and stayed quiet receiving the colors and mysteries that he gave me in shape of wind... I slept with a new finding in my consciousness. However, I will never be able to explain what happened to him, how do you tell a man that he can anesthetize you with what he exhales? 

If love is so difficult why is necessary?

Illustration: Henn Kim

How difficult is love, 
But how necessary... 

Necessary the chest 
That contracts itself and choke us
Or inflates itself and elevate us. 

Necessary the stomach 
That can be packed of black holes  
Or butterfly's wings...

How difficult is love
That feels in the belly
That comes from the viscera,
From the guts,
From that organic impulse
That every single human
Is desperate to bury  

How difficult is love 
That makes us so little,
That takes away our shields  
And smashes our walls...
That hides in every pore  
And appears without warning...

How difficult is love 
That makes us face huge demons
Or takes us to meet the angels...

How difficult is love 
That makes us cry
Sometimes a puddle,
 Sometimes a river.



Illustration: Henn Kim

An angel just told me
That your voice's sweetness
Can lower the guard
Of thousands of armies

That by looking at the sky
Your pupils extinguish
The moon's isolation

An angel just told me
That just your smile
Can melt any ice...

That the butterflies
Envying your softness
And the word nobleness
Was born from your eyes.

IM @margaritabeblog