Yo-Yo Boing!

Quiero pensar como piensan los hombres cuando se cansan de pensar. I am dead.

And it’s not a matter of surviving. I have survived. And I’m not proud that I’m one of the survivors. Survivors are not proud of having left the dead behind — they’re just as dead as the dead — and their smell stinks more than the stench of the dead. Just because you rise at dawn, and you walk, and talk — alive or dead — you’re more dead than alive. Stop talking about you — as if it were somebody else but you — me — myself — the dead — looking at the blank verse in a frontal mirror every morning, and brushing my teeth, with the infamous caries of a llaga — right through the blank verse — because it’s blank without verse or phrase or paraphrase — sound or mute — blank or empty — the eyes of the verse fill the blank verse and open each window of my verse, mi verdad, mi versatilidad.

Explain yourself in a better mood. Just because you’re young flesh and I’m frontal to my death. Why must I continue surviving and breathing for the rest of my life. When will I die without stinking my breath of immortality. Oh, come on, nobody is immortal nowadays. We continue living without possessing our lives — in mutinity — in mutility — immotivated by the immobility of immutability — invalidated by a certificate of mortality, immobility, immortability, tranquility, morbality, morbidity, mortability, murámonos moribundos, antes de que la tumba rest in peace before the time has passed for us to reposar en paz perezosa por el resto de los muramos pronto antes de que apestemos la ropa que apesta el mortuorio llevar la vida a pie y sin camisa lloremos y cantemos.

Here, in silence, surrounded by stages to mount upon mount upon mount and climbing each step of a stair with cautious eyes to look around, upon a stair, I sigh, and look down there, where the subway runs, and returns, and there is a noise that noises my nose, I take out my handkerchief, and of course, of course, of course, in the blank verse I blow my nose, hard and loud. I blow it out of proportions, out of dimensions and proportions — tiny and gigantic, certainty, and certainly, danger, and proximity, altitude and dexterity, enterprise of multiple choices — a wrong answer against a right attitude — fortitude of mind behind a window of desire, and perplexity and doubt, upsetting the nervous system of la cage aux fois.