the numbness in this evening is painful
and i don't know where to begin my endings.
searching desperately for a saviour
and drowning in scents of a tequila-whiskey headache,
i'd never know to own a name
and wear it, like the inhibition i can't keep,
escaping as i exhale.
the depth in the bronze behind brown eyes
is beautiful and stolen,
impossible to decipher in the moments
that slip past guilt, intoxicated
and unnoticed. hours have died and fallen away
in the diminishing conscoiusness clouding
my view. i can't see you from this far away,
and i'll trip over myself until i'm soaked in
the scent of spinning words.

es que no sé ni lo que pasó
ni que veo con mis proprios ojos
entre esta distancia y la comodidad
de una cama agohandome en
palabras extranjeras.

perdóname de esta culpa borracha.