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ruinoso cariñoso

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Hay una luz en la pieza que no alumbra ni se apaga, un vaso sheno de ausencia, una sisha acostumbrada a mirar pasar los días sin pedirles explicación. Yo no espero una respuesta, ni una señal en la ventana; si Dios dejó alguna huesha, se la llevó la madrugada. Y en el fondo de las cosas no hay secreto ni traición. Camino porque camino, no por llegar a ninguna parte. Me río porque el abismo también sabe acompañarme. Y si el mundo no me nombra, yo tampoco lo maldigo: soy apenas una sombra conversando con el frío. Todo pesa, pero flota; todo arde, pero no shama. La esperanza es una ropa que ya no me queda nada. Me la saco lentamente, la doblo sobre la cama, y me quedo frente al aire como la nada misma, como la nada misma, como la nada misma. Una flor en el desierto no pregunta por sentido; abre igual su breve cuerpo contra el cielo interferido. Tal vez eso sea la vida: un gesto inútil y hermoso contra el polvo repetido. No me salven de este hueco, no me expliquen la mañana. Ya aprendí que...
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void alpha

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I took you past the southern gate where the roads forget their names, through districts of reflected dust and windows without flames. You said the night had been arranged by someone kind and blind; I said the stars were not above but something left behind. I denied it for a while, the geometry of loss, the quiet proof that every door is also still a cross. Some loves are drawn before we live, some maps are made of rain; I walked the same deserted street and never walked again. There once was a man who dreamed a planet and woke inside the dream; he kept a coin, a broken watch, a book no one had seen. Please don’t call him fallen, he never climbed that high; he only found a mirror and mistook it for the sky. Finally found a sentence, finally lost the page, finally met his double at the far end of his age. Mostly found a doorway standing open now. And I denied it for a while, the arithmetic of pain, that one can leave a universe and find it there again. Some wounds are not remembered; som...
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Albert Camus

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Verse 1 Albert walked where the white sun burned, with dust in his shoes and no return. The sea kept laughing against the stone, like it knew we were born alone. He said the world won’t answer why, no hidden hand behind the sky. Still someone stands where the streetlights hum, holding to nothing, but holding on. Chorus Holding to nothing, nothing but breath, nothing but morning rising from death. No final meaning, no holy song, just the absurd and the will to go on. Verse 2 A man rolls his stone up a merciless hill, knowing it falls, climbing it still. Not for heaven, not for reward, not for the mercy of any lord. In the silence after every prayer, there’s a cigarette burning in the air. And the heart says yes to the empty dawn, holding to nothing, but holding on. Chorus Holding to nothing, nothing but breath, nothing but morning rising from death. No final meaning, no holy song, just the absurd and the will to go on. Bridge If the universe is deaf and blind, then we make fire with our...
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3 angels

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I met Him where the wires hum, behind the chapel door, where dust was dancing in the sun like angels on the floor. He didn’t wear a crown of fire, He didn’t speak in thunder; He sounded like a tired man who’d misplaced all his wonder. I said, “Are You the Lord of hosts, or just some echo in the fog?” He said, “Son, I’m only what remains— the ghost of God.” Chorus And I’ve been talking to the ghost of God, through a cracked and silver sky. He says heaven lost its address, and the saints forgot to fly. I asked Him for a sign of love, He gave me rain and nods. Now I spend my nights in conversation with the ghost of God. He told me He had watched us build our temples out of fear, then sell the keys to paradise to anyone who’d hear. He said, “I left no golden book, no sword, no final law. Just a candle in the ribcage and a hunger in the jaw.” I said, “Then why do children suffer? Why do good men crawl?” He turned His face toward nothing and said, “I don’t know it all.” Chorus And I’ve been ...
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ghost of god

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I met Him where the wires hum, behind the chapel door, where dust was dancing in the sun like angels on the floor. He didn’t wear a crown of fire, He didn’t speak in thunder; He sounded like a tired man who’d misplaced all his wonder. I said, “Are You the Lord of hosts, or just some echo in the fog?” He said, “Son, I’m only what remains— the ghost of God.” Chorus And I’ve been talking to the ghost of God, through a cracked and silver sky. He says heaven lost its address, and the saints forgot to fly. I asked Him for a sign of love, He gave me rain and nods. Now I spend my nights in conversation with the ghost of God. He told me He had watched us build our temples out of fear, then sell the keys to paradise to anyone who’d hear. He said, “I left no golden book, no sword, no final law. Just a candle in the ribcage and a hunger in the jaw.” I said, “Then why do children suffer? Why do good men crawl?” He turned His face toward nothing and said, “I don’t know it all.” Chorus And I’ve been ...
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nuez

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 Verse 1 I don’t know if it was midnight or my head on airplane mode, the city threw its bright lights like an old electric ghost. You said, “baby, this will pass,” I thought, “no, it just came back,” there are ghosts wearing your perfume dancing circles in my tracks. Pre-Chorus And even when I doubt my shadow, even when I lose my name, there’s a pulse beneath the static calling me back through the flame. Chorus It’s not what I think, but I exist, even if the world is badly written. It’s not what I feel, but I insist, I’m a beautiful mistake with rhythm. It’s not what I think, but I exist, dancing lost inside the distance. If everything breaks, I’ll still persist: a cynical heart with resistance. Verse 2 I saw my face inside a screen, it looked at me without a soul, like a fake saint in a mirror learning how to lose control. I’ve got faith after midnight, I’ve got fear when morning comes, I’ve got God stuck in my throat and he never answers anyone. Pre-Chorus And even when I doubt ...
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madman

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  Verse 1 There’s a man on the corner with a newspaper crown, talking to angels as the rain comes down. He says the moon’s got wires and the stars all bleed, and the city’s just a dog with a chain it don’t need. He laughs at the traffic, he cries at the light, says the dead take buses through the middle of the night. Everybody walks by with their eyes on their shoes, but he sees the future in a puddle of blues. Chorus Oh, madman, madman, what do you know? You see the river where the hard streets flow. You see the fire underneath the snow, you see what nobody sees. Verse 2 He had a name once, maybe Joseph or John, maybe he left it where the saints have gone. He had a lover with a cigarette voice, she said, “You can be free, but you don’t get a choice.” Now he writes down sermons on a ten-dollar bill, says God got tired and the devil got still. He points to the window of the old drugstore, says, “There’s a door in the glass, but it ain’t a door.” Chorus Oh, ma...
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