Mierda y cuchara - Marea

Cuntame, dime, їQuin te ha colgado el mar de las pestaas?

Y ahora drsena de estiercol se torn la comisura de los besos.

Sed de limn, cimbrear como las espadaas

Y en el hueco de mi espalda y la pared cuelga tu nido del revs.

Y cada huevo parido es nada y cada beso en la boca es nada.

Como si no hubiera pasado nada…

Un reguero de luna ser nuestra casa,

De esta luna tan puta de pechos de plata.

Ser el arrullar de la libertad,

Que tiene cogida pa ti y para mi en la goma de sus bragas.

Cuntame del llover, de los das de mierda y cuchara,

De la rara podredumbre del querer, cuando no falta de nada

Porque s que el saber no sirvi para daar tus labios,

Y que te sobra todo lo que va despus, de yo te quiero y yo, tambin.

Y mi costilla arrancada es nada, y cada trino quebrado es nada,

Que fuimos solos y seremos nada…

Aguacero de soles caer en nuestra cama,

Que solo quiere amores de piernas mojadas.

Y dejarnos prender, que no es menester

Ponernos en pie, t como luna en celo y yo como una cabra.

Regar, sin querer, con silencio, estrellas, tu cuarto,

Que no anhela ms que el grito del papel en el que he escrito mi quehacer,

Que nunca ms servir de nada si su tronido se qued en nada

Cuando su savia ya no riega nada…

Un reguero de luna ser nuestra casa,

De esta luna tan puta de pechos de plata.

Ser el arrullar de la libertad,

Que tiene cogida pa ti y para mi en la goma de sus bragas.

Tell me, tell me, who has hung the sea from your eyelashes?

And now the manure basin has become the corner of kisses.

Thirst for lemon, sway like swords

And in the hollow of my back and the wall hang your nest upside down.

And every hatched egg is nothing and every kiss on the mouth is nothing.

As if nothing had happened…

A trail of moonlight will be our home,

From this fucking moon with silver breasts.

To be the lullaby of freedom,

That she has a fuck for you and for me in the rubber band of her panties.

Tell me about the rain, about the days of shit and spoon,

Of the rare rottenness of wanting, when nothing is lacking

Because I know that knowledge did not serve to damage your lips,

And that you have plenty of everything that goes after, I love you and I, too.

And my ripped rib is nothing, and every broken trill is nothing,

That we were alone and we will be nothing...

Downpour of suns fall on our bed,

Who only wants loves with wet legs.

And let us turn on, which is not necessary

Stand up, you like a moon in heat and I like a goat.

Watering, without meaning to, with silence, stars, your room,

That yearns for nothing more than the cry of the paper on which I have written my work,

That it will never be of any use if its thunder came to nothing

When its sap no longer waters anything...

A trail of moonlight will be our home,

From this fucking moon with silver breasts.

To be the lullaby of freedom,

That she has a fuck for you and for me in the elastic of her panties.