We're In A Dream In The Happy House

Still remember the way you kissed that stranger. 
He told you that he had found you pretty and he asked you if he could kiss you.
You agreed. 

I wanted so bad to be him, but your friend was so obsessed with me. 
She thought I was a weak guy with mental issues. 
I found her sort of cozy. 
I couldn't tell her that I wanted to be with you.
I was so lonely and confused. 

It started by accident. 

At 13 o'clock or so, I was walking thru the alleys of your school and then I unexpectedly found your friend. She was so happy to see me. She thought I was looking for her. 
It was awkward. I wanted to find you. 

You appeared half an hour later. 
You were sort of angst and bored and proposed us to drink a bear. 

Dunno why I accepted. 
I really needed to save money. 
I was supposed to buy tickets for a Sonic Youth show. 

It was almost 15 o'clock but we were already drunk. 
Still remember what you said about that stranger when you came back to our table.
I felt dizzy and jealous. 

Then, we moved to another bar and we never stopped drinking. 

Later, we moved to a really cheap and sordid place. 
At noon, we moved to a tavern full of elderly men. 

We kissed at the end of the journey. 

The entire day I had been thinking about kissing you.
I told you that I desired to kiss you. 

We were really wasted. 
I barely could stand up.

You saw me and you held my hand.

We kissed. 

My first feeling was that your warm lips were like an open vibrating sore. 

Then you murmured: "I didn't kiss you just because she's my friend..."
(Or so I remember.)

For days I was thinking how precise were my memories about this affair. 

Now, it seems another life. 
It happened almost 15 years ago. 

We are completely different.

You're divorced, you have a child genius and you're sort of a freelance writer.
I'm married, devoted to neurosciences (or so it should be) and happy. 

Sometimes I wake up from a crazy dream about that kiss. 

I still feel your warm lips like an open vibrating sore. 

Happy House, a song by Siouxsie & The Banshees on Spotify

The Same Post, But In Spanish (Details Included)

Mama's Little Pills Spilled All Over The Floor

It was about to dawn.

We were inside of a dark small apartment, standing in front of a window.

We were in silence, watching the city.

Our shadows reflected in the glass of the window in a dismal way.

Our reflection reminded me of the most popular scene of Fight Club, except that we would not see how a bomb would make an enormous building fall to pieces. 

The sky looked like a giant mouth about to yawn. 

The clouds looked like an army of violent waves about to invade a warm ocean. 

The walls in the apartment were all painted in red and they reminded me of the excess of wine in my body. 

She just wore underwear and a T-shirt. 

She stared at me.

Her eyes were sad and tired.

She looked younger than I thought she was. 

Her long black hair shone in the form of an ambiguous cascade.

Somehow, it made me to experience a group of brief vertiginous images.

These images appeared in intervals in my fuzzy brain.

Soon they adopted the form of a headache.

Her long black hair also reminded me of her shadowy naked body. 

For a moment, I almost smelled the secret perfume of her skin. 

It gave me the chills. 

I was so angst and confused. 

I felt so dumb. 

What we had done?

http://www.ifccenter.com/films/fight-club/

She came close to me and made me hug her from behind.

As we still watched the city, I felt her skinny body.

It was like an open vibrating sore. 

Her body was so tiny and soft that it reminded me of a porcelain doll. 

I felt pity of her. 

I barely could stand beside her. 

I was dizzy and about to fall asleep. 

Also, I wanted to throw up.  

She was so stoned, too.

I looked down and saw a lot of pills on the floor. 

Somehow, I knew those pills were antidepressants.

She was on treatment 'cause she had tried to commit suicide in the last year. That's why we had started to get closer.  

We had started by watching movies each Friday. 

I just wanted to be supportive. 

One thing had led to another. 

Nonetheless, the pills spilled all over the floor made me think that maybe she was addicted to meth, too.

It also gave me the chills. 

What if I had just tried meth for the first time?

I was so drunk, tired and sleepy. 

The apartment was so quiet and warm, but my mind was a fierce storm.

I felt abussive and I wanted to kill myself, but I had the feeling that she was too vulnerable and that it was not an appropriate moment.

I was terribly ill and tied to her suffering. 

I just woke up. Still feel so guilty. 

At times, dreams are so revealing and scary. 

Sweet Young Thing Ain't Sweet No More