To my nerves,
\nI have no control over the pulsations,
\nI run away from time to time in search of this situation,
\nlooking for them to shoot out, to collide with each other,
\nto collapse, to degenerate my sight.<\/p>\n
Another vision of the world they give me when they are having fun.
\nand my legs thunder, when my hand digs a grave in the back of my neck,
\nwhen I come out of myself, when the self that is being begins the journey,
\nand begins to be the me I was before, becoming a photograph.<\/p>\n
To my nerves I give my eyes
\nto dance in the emptiness of any part,
\nwhen I vanish leaving my present body
\nleaving the imperfection.
\nI leave you a monument bad stretch for you to talk to him.<\/p>\n
To my nerves I give a thousand mocking guffaws
\nfor life, to confound the death that has surrounded me,
\nto think that I celebrate the idea of its existence, that its breath refreshes my temples.
\nMay my yellow teeth be lights to light his way back with mine already absent.<\/p>\n
I give my nerves caffeine as a gift
\nto be attentive to his sleep and his threatening wakefulness.
\nThat my body does not rest without a fight between the hours of yesterday and the hours that are grouped together,
\nthat inclemency that makes me enjoy the first hours of sunshine and hate the first very early waves of light.<\/p>\n
No, that light does not feed my translucent garment and my entrails continue to age.<\/p>\n
I summon my nerves with every letter I write.
\nwill never become poetry,
\na bland line to be poetry, an embellished line to be a cry for help.<\/p>\n
To my nerves that have remained
\nwith a bit of an urge to run away as I write this last line.<\/p>\n
To my nerves... that never let me finish anything.<\/p>\n