Life Delicioso

The end might be around the corner, but never close enough to stop him from missing, remembering, loving, and imagining constantly. His nostalgia so strong and almost permanent, he misses everyone. He remembers everyone... With every name that he calls, dead or alive, there is a tale... Once there was a childhood, an adulthood, genuine one in fact... Humane enough to be missed. His mind hasn't completely stopped recording, but new events aren't important anymore. Sometimes when I sit besides him, he asks me if my kids are doing good... I don't have kids, I tell him... then he gives me an embarrassed smile, or cracks a joke if he is in a good mood..., his jokes are witty.
He hates family reunions, he hates having to say goodbye one by one, it leaves him empty and sick... First time I saw him cry was in one of those damn reunions. Not too long ago. No! He was sobbing... He still sends imaginary money to relatives, to places that existed once, before an earthquake, a revolution, a war, or just an industrialization project. So I like to see him alot... as much as I can... he reminds me of how late I am, everytime, and how he has been waiting.... The only time I hear him complain. His life so full and so empty at the same time... Not for anybody to say that is time for him to stop... for his current existence is all he desires...then there will be nothing... Death is death... with nothing beyond it... Not necessarily scared, just not done yet.

Hipocresía Expreso

Disgust took over rage,
silence took over a lumpy throat,
paranoia took over the conscience,
Melancholy took over the World.

Consumed by absurdities,
loved by pities,
injected with obligations,
frightened by nostalgia.

Forced to cease,
drugged to persist,
promised to be deluded so impeccably.
While time exhausted the body,
and routines dulled the head.

Under layers of filth,
still remaines
an untouched state.