To the previous ones and to the others


I loved you bottomless
With no echo, in the effort
Muzzled by your time
I loved you as a lent
 I drunk to the dregs your mucus
So that none of your transudations should escape me
That you could have, in spite of you, abandoned to the ground
Licked your chaps with the tip of my tongue
I loved you like a second skin
I cradled in my hollow arms, to learn it, your absence
I walked without edge, hindered by your thorn
I loved you, neglecting the persistent sensation of a slight hunger
Of this radiant agony, I have known nothing

January 2015

Chocolates on the window seat

The cutting edge of our lips as long lived
Dry is the golden tank of our dilutions
I wait for the draining of the ablutions that, each time, revived the damages

I wait, I tend myself towards the infinity of endurance
An irritation at the fringe of oblivion persists
Around has been spread the cystine of my numbness

You hardly get down from my back
On both sides of the thread of my fleeting thoughts
You sprinkle me with your immutable silence

I inter you to all winds without believing it
What would remain, I scatter it, wish it to others
I can not predict the future, I confess, I envy the wear

I wait, I tend towards amnesia
I know too much about the indigence of my memory that immortalized you
The effect, probably, of your upside down confessions

I shall not feel your vain taste in my mouth
Your taste irreplaceable too
I wait, I stretch, inexhaustible patience

If I wait more, if I stretch better
Finally one day, perhaps, the rudiments of your voice will scatter
Under the kind of bent sheet, the kind of sanitized drought of the space 

March 2014

Aircraft carrier

Condemned to remain vacant
The cord well cut, well floating
The wings, the wings a little heavy
The scars on the heels
Condemned to the suspended wandering
The time gasifies itself, I glide with a mask
The landing is impossible, impossible
Without the twisted small of the back of my aircraft carrier.

 1st January 2012


The story continues and finishes me off, I bow
Irreplaceable curse, I've been wallowing without remission
Bitter soil of the passionate loss, ruinous bagatelle
For so, so, so long, I turn in vain
In the ghetto of your palm
Imposing of impassibility
That snatched me up nevertheless
Up to the very need of voices promiscuity
Up to the idea of a back
I choke breathlessly
Under a continuous sigh
That my lungs store as a fact

 December 31, 2013