El cielo en mi bolsillo
While death is given to us
we are building life
fictions and myths that we call history
nothing is a bitch who hides for money and all our ideas are it daughters
reality is a dangerous game
and fate is a swindle
a slap is a kiss between two hands
talking should be forbidden
when the kiss is the Esperanto of languages
only is valid touching, touch us
touched, sunk
we still have a little more wine and a few laughs
Hell is the time
here, now, always
don’t ask me for Heaven
hold me and seek in my pockets

J. Javier Morata