Toxic.

I hold no fear for self-breakage,

I refuse self-help.

But you should fear me when I break,

I feel like rotting everything around me

if I am broken myself.

My agony is slow and I am sentenced

to wander half dead through the remains of my own body,.

I shall follow steps of the new born victims

and take their blank spaces and their gloomy realities.

I am nothing but a shadow,

and under the rain I vanish,

and I am cursed by the sunlight to never reappear.

Do you ever feel like being ugly?

Or do you ever feel like breaking patterns?

'Cause I don't fear being different,

rejoiced by the weirdness of my features.

I am the queerest contraption.

I sleep under the warm roofs like the mice do,

and wake up to the sound of the floods.

I run fast like lightning,

and I will hunt you inside of your lucid nightmares.

I hide to smile,

for I hate the sound of other human's laughter.

Laugh is contagious,

I might infect them with my radiance.

I am the happiness slaughter,

and I would kill to make you cry.

I am the monster under the shiny mask.

Ashes cover the isolated paths upon which I will seduce you to walk.

Fear no ugliness,

fear no dimensions,

fear no change,

fear no darkness,

fear no inner hate,

fear nobody.

Not even yourself.

~AbrilRouge~

Om

It was magic, 

all wounds healed in one night.

Before dawn,

all woulds answer by a sexy chaman.

He took me with him, 

we traveled through the sky,

it was a long trip,

but we reached such heights.

We melted into each other

we merged our minds

we painted psychedelic landscapes

we loved each other infinitely,

all at the same time.

He washed my hate

and turned my eyes around

from the deepest darkness 

to the eternal light.

I was a small fairy

wrapped into his arms, 

He fucked me without touching me, 

he sang the Om into my third eye.

-Abril Rouge-

Limpio

Como el aire de montaña, 

cual cuerpo desangrado de cabeza,

lleno solamente del abstracto amor con el que se concibe la vida. 

Como el color cyan de los cumulonimbos a medio día.

Al paso del tiempo no se le presta paciencia, 

Se le evade como a un enemigo armado. 

Se vive entonces en un torbellino

Pero sin arrepentimiento alguno

Porque se vive con el corazón.

No le tengo miedo a nada, 

Ya estoy vieja para vivir asi. 

Vivo en reclusión voluntaria, 

Como un apartado desierto Ártico. 

Soy feliz siendo señera, 

Mi mundo es inventado

Y contiene referencias que sólo yo comprendo.

Limpio, como un corazón incierto,

como una emoción pasajera, 

cual ave que tiende sus alas

en el invencible viento 

en lo alto de los cielos.

ฯ|AbrilRouge

Nadie me conoce.

Sabes que siempre me han gustado estos pasatiempos estúpidos como cultivar tomates 

o izar un jardín japonés. 

Creo que sólo trato de dejar una huella en el mundo, 

semillas de mis más profundos bosques 

que crezcan para describir quien fui. 

La mayor parte del tiempo no sé si estoy cuerda 

o si mi intención es demasiado sincera y le hace falta realce. 

Sin embargo, no pretendo dañar a nadie con mi forma de vivir, 

no trato de merecer nada 

(a veces me ahoga el dar tanto y nunca recibir un poco de gratitud a cambio,

naturalmente) 

y trato de hecho, de subvencionar el entorno con mi existir, 

con mis no muy efectivas acciones individuales para cambiar el mundo.

No intento en realidad de decir algo específico con todo esto.

Es más! Trato de ser tan clara como puedo 

transmitiendo un burdo mensaje:

no tengo nada que decir. 

Sólo camino por abismos color índigo y con sabor a daiquirí, 

divago en esta idea que siempre he tenido en la mente:

no pertenezco a ningún lado. 

No hablo ningún idioma conocido

y no creo que nadie comprenda lo que trato de decir. 

Salvo, quizá, dos personas: 

Las dos partes de la dualidad.

La comunicación verbal 

y el silencio.

La realidad más conocida y aceptada 

y una dimensión que apenas he explorado.

Sigo soñando,

situaciones muy extrañas, 

 esa vida paralela inexplorada me parece más real cada día.

Puede ser que no sea cierto lo que pienso, 

pero no conozco a nadie en cuyo criterio confíe,

ni mentes con experiencias como las mías. 

Nadie me conoce. 

 ‎26 ‎de ‎noviembre ‎de ‎2015

abril|әƃnoɹ

Nodding dumbly.

This gives my soul the closure that I never got from you. 

I can now have something to remember you forever. 

Something that will live up to remind me that you

are not the mirage I see in my dreams, every

now and then. (Night and day)

I can now reach out and touch you.

I can pay devotion to the miracle of love,

the illusion of waking every morning to think of you.

And you must think I

 am a piece of trash for talking about you

and everything I so often question about myself.

I just don't stop feeling like I

haven't forgot my shivering skin, just can't.

I close my eyes and let

feel flooded by the idea of your white skin and how your life will go.

This represents some closure for me.

And ever so ironically it's a stolen freedom.

Taken like the sun taken by a plant:

Something that belonged with me, completely.

abril|әƃnoɹ

I miss you too.

I was left floating in  the air on a smooth cloud of morphine, after you kissed me. I ran dramatically like a crazy person, and rid the bus with a smile, one I couldn't take off of my face during the whole way. There were so many words stuck in my head.. but when you are in front of me, I turn into a bag of nerves and I am incapable of formulating coherent sentences. So I didn't say a coherent phrase when I answered "Me too, I missed you so much I can't explain". We hugged and the smell of your clean pale and always fresh skin, invaded me like a cool but warm mist. I never felt so intensely the presence of someone else. A true connection between two minds can never be denied. I will always choose happiness over interest. That's what I think will guide me to knowledge and a real life experience, the realest of them all. Only love will guide us to secure grounds, and as I said before I love you. Or that's what this trembling knees of mine suggest when I am close to you. Maybe I do, maybe I should follow up this path, I should trust my gut instinct and fight myself to give us a chance. The chance of being happy.

Dealing with reality.

I didn't see you today. I felt emptiness like never before. My heart was reduced to thin powder and I began wondering 'how is he?' 'what is he doing?'. How are you? You might think I am alright, you might think after all this I forgot you. But I don't stop thinking of you, not even one day.
I just want to say that I love you. Yes, I do. I finally said it out loud. Even if I won't allow myself to love you freely, I still feel this tickles inside my head whenever I think of you, and a deep hole inside my heart whenever I see you. It's a huge wound that is wide open, a wound that is slowly driving me to death. I wish it did, but no one dies from loving someone who doesn't love them back. Unfortunately.
I still feel we are the same tone of green, I still feel our colors combine. And I feel this fucking attraction I can't deal with. Some sort of magnetism that emerged between us at the first sight. I wish I could run to you dramatically under the rain and tell you how much I love you, all that I would do for you. I would give anything for a morning in which the sun shone over your face, dying your turquoise soul with golden rays.
But then I go back to reality and I realize how difficult it would be to deal with us everyday. Somehow all the love I felt inside was never enough to change that or even to make it easier.
I just.. I obsess over the thought of having you close to me. That clean smell that surrounds you, like an aura wraping my body when you are around. And that pretty song sounding in the background... your favorite of course.
I tell myself to get over this, to say goodbye, but how? The answer is a deep silence, that fills up with noisy thoughts regarding how much I miss you and how many times I have been on denial of that.
That's how dealing with reality feels like. A hole in your chest that you can feel but you can't fill. A dream you had that never came true. A nightmare you can't wake up from. A path that seems endless to a destiny that is always uncertain. My reality feels like you're missing.