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The Complex

"The Complex" (2002)

1. Apeiron
2. Biography Of An Actor
3. Mikrokosmos
4. Chrysalis
5. Maiden In Winter
6. The Inflection Point
7. Crystalsomber
8. Ethernous
9. The Complex: Pro(to)thesis
10. Kaosmos

1. Apeiron

2. Biography Of An Actor

A transmutation is the metaphor

of a diathermy in the water.

I am looking at the castle that is coming down,

the first man is at my side.

Life goes on as a water snail.

Why are we here, in the summit of the scale?

Just a horizontal stairway.

Soil in thy soul, ashes in her legs.

Images of the elder asking for pity.

The woman laughing of his teeth.

Reality is not anymore a dream

for somebody in the other side of the moon,

in this second.

A hand slowly grasps the air,

whisper of the last aspiration.

The woman holds her breast with the force

of her ancestors

and milk became a star in elder's smile.

The chance is the only life for my molecules.

The smile of my atoms tells me

that we will find a shadow when the Earth

ends its fourth cicle.

But I cannot rest until there is a fourth direction

that has four directions.

The ship is about to leave.

We are late; let die the dead.

3. Mikrokosmos

In the nectar grows the moss,

there is no difference...

And I saw to the whole

that was glass and the one:


Lost images that hang

from a subtlety similar to the breath,

where there is no wall that separates

the straight line from the spiral.

The genius is joined in the trip of the spiral

diluting between water threads that escape.

At seven thousand lunar radios

I listen to the beat of thy tears

that fall from the hell to the sky

and from there they rise

to the horizon.

From the rumor of the marine wolves

is heard that god gotten dressed of moon

before the ocean attempts inoculate on the night,

and the last breath of the candles fights against

the tenuous gasp of two lovers.

In the waterfall, the Nepenthes writhes in the neck

of the oldman that recalls

how young is the moment;

the sigh in the form of albatross to the outside returns

and falls precisely in the uncertainty of some lips

reddened by the blows...

It's seen that the Dantesque nights have been

lost as the poison in the tragedy,

returns "the lover, painting on his beautiful beloved,

resembles a moribund that caresses his tomb".

4. Chrysalis

Ground slave, without can't fall: always down.

Reasons? For what? I only see

monstrousities: In the Hashish field,

I see the Harvester.

Killing my bride in a trestle table.

When would be unleashed the hell?

Both dummies, in an incessant doubt twister,

looked as grate strangers: different ways,

immutable, and tired. She opens her legs,

and I ask her to close them.

Grate strangers.

We're out, damned, alone, and astonished,

let die and quickly.

We're as chrysalis, ready to crush and never.

5. Maiden In Winter

A maiden, wounded by anxiety,

waits that the winter settles in a leaf,

the snow that can dry her tearful breast.

Avidity for a thalamus where all pain is gone,

resting with the mother-tree.

To bath in a waterfall

where a god is hidden after a crime.

Nude, the virgin rests in the snow,

waiting now nothing:

bare of clothes that can make her different.

The winds, migrating from the emperor's ear,

whisper among the woods the name

of an unborn knowledge.

No determinated ways in their search,

in their music.


Rumors of an invisible space, rumors

of all the times. Unknown goddess,


Caressing the land, the snow,

the winds do not make difference

between it and the maiden.

Now she, with her skin caressed by winter,

cannot understand who she is:

metamorphosis of the conscience:


freshness of the sex and the breast.

6. The Inflection Point

The last second:

I can't imagine my birth,

I loose myself in the "beggining".

There has been always a terrible fear

to the begginings and to the ends.

In which moment we began to fear death?

Even the infinite is insufficient,

the exception is enormous.

For the first time a hole allows

to enter the outside to my body...

To be implies too much solemnity.

From time to time we see the moon

in search of answers; I've always believed

that truth is in the streets.

The outside and the steps are carried

away well, and what's of my exterior?

Just a crater,

that is a point and that disappears

upon covering the face with a white blanket.

Do I return? This time not!

The universe is one and of crystal:

fragil... November.

The silence arrived too late...

I turn my face toward the time, to my days of

6:45 p.m.

7. Crystalsomber

Look around me and find my desillusion

like the dog that plays with a worm,

and forgets his unfaithful destiny.

From my hand emerges the horror of what's possible,

all oxide is to the iron

as the crystal to the somber.

The remembrance is the breath that darkens the crystal,

all difuse and superflous.

To think in her is to keep her too much in mind:

The depth of her eyes charms upon opening the door

of the dark room and only the green remains.

In the distance I see emanate the last sigh

that hits the cliff until destroy it while the albatross

undertakes the flight to his death.

In the immensity lays what is possible,

there the sight gets lost in the infinite...

and at the end nothing.

I have the infinite in me,

in the second that I suspended my life

in the crystalsomber.

8. Ethernous

Why do we believe that the suicide's denial of the life,

it is not by any chance the aproximation of the ether?

If the ether-nity does not exist, it's then the suicide denial of the life:


Denial of the ether: Nemesis Ocvlta.

Denial of the nous: the ether.

Opposite of a same mass, one justice, and the other vengeance.

Without difference the hermaphroditic Nemesis

whose faces confuse the human crisis,

drives mad to the human; we make one by contrary,

"do you come down from the deep sky

or do you emerge from the abyss,


Where does life reside, perhaps in the death?

The eternity is the most categorical stupidity,

denies life: which is the hateful obstinacy to find a sense after life?

The death is the simplest thing we will have, the actions are forgotten quickly,

death is not?

9. The Complex: Pro(to)thesis

I think about the cranium that is within me,

and the prothesis included in IT...

The echo drips in an iron vessel:

metronome of madness.

The beauty returns with the moderation of the feline,

and the face with the worst of the impossible:

all the forgotten ones pull out with glances

the only silence that remains.

From the drop only the sound falls

and the vessel breaks with the universe that is one and of crystal...

All the reality is overflowed and the water is the curse

of the child beaten by the hands of his genesis,

and begins the uncertainty in some red lips...

"Once again..."

Everything in life is a "once again":

the addiction.

(Seven seconds of silence... one more... I return in me)

One proto-thesis is built and dendrites are destroyed...

The noise of the door corrupts the intimacy...

Once again... Once again...

10. Kaosmos

From the plain hangs a reality chunk.

Everything is unattainable while dead;

the desire corrupts the death,

seduces it and transforms it into power.

Behind me the fear betrays me

(...from the sky the thunder emerges

like caterpillar of his cocoon...).

And in the further cliffs waits the image to be sight.

(Return) November is a decade.

(The sound falls upward and crosses with the drop

revoking the all the is one and of crystal).

Strange is the silence as the foreigner to the immobility...

The interstice between my ribs awaits a possible stab:

"All and now..." wanted the father, opening her legs

and she as a bitch lubricating to the order of the instinct.

(Millions attack to the one and turn him imperfect and vital... foreigner son).


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