What is, it is and whatever is, it is.

    Art by Maryam Naville

"In your broken mirror you're lost.
The agonizing cry broke it and you don't want to fix it.
In order not to scream.
But others' mirrors return your true image.
You occlude your eyes till bleeding for deleting from them your true reflection.
You look and devour your little broken mirror and try to break  the others stabbing them.
You can not, they are too many.
They are just the whole of them.
You, coward with forced smile, leave them behind. If your sight don't catch them, your eyes will heal.
Keep looking at your broken mirror that always will give you back the image you'll paint on it.

An old and a raw is your soul that's reflected on your senile face. Old who no longer wants to learn, everything thinks she knows. Oh, she is old.

Wisdom of a parrot, mind that can't process or plot.
But about warping she struts. A wise without wisdom, a queen without a kingdom, a girl without youth, a judge without a jury.
You do not believe what you believe but you force yourself to believe it and not even believing you'd believe it because the reality is the shadow that you refuse to believe.


You beg your faithful lover and kneel before her.
Beloved and loving solitude. The only one who wants to accompany you.
Love her, for there she is and always she will, it is your aim and end, ride who will take you there. Surrounded by harpies you are, since only they surround the rotten fruit honest people will never take.
They compulsively want to bite your rot so you begin to rely on your lover, for many yearn for your company, you get to think about when you see them flutter.
And how much value you see in what  produces compulsion in them. Disdain them.You know who you really have to love. Because you really love. Your feelings bloom as mold blooms in the pond, as pus in disease.
You love your self though it's not yours. Just your draw on your broken mirror.
Snippets of the foreign you make yours. Reinventing yourself and your love knitting. Narcissus was only an apprentice. In his obsession much wiser than him you are: looking out over the pond he saw just himself, the goddess you see on it.
Your best speaking partner agrees you. He praises the words flowing from your speech.
Echo is called.
But, who cares his name? Who cares his impersonality?

He has a face, does it matter anything else?.
You place your altar and he'll go to pray you.
Fervent and believer, prophet who recites your words, blind who only voice is.
Faith is not about seeing.
It's just about believing.
And so he believes what you give: what your tainted mirror says."


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"En tu espejo roto perdida has.

El grito agónico lo rompió y no lo quieres arreglar.

Para no volver a gritar.

Pero los espejos ajenos tu sincera imágen devuelven.

Tus ojos ocluyes hasta sangrar para tu verdadero reflejo borrar.

Miras y devoras con la mirada tu pequeño espejo roto y a puñaladas intentas romper los de los demás.

No puedes, son demasiados.

Son todos.

Cobarde y con sonrisa forzada, los dejas atrás. Si a tu vista no alcanzan, tus ojos sanarán.

Sigue mirando tu espejo roto que siempre te devuelve la imágen que en él pintarás.


Una vieja en carne viva es tu alma que se refleja en tu rostro senil. Vieja que ya no quiere aprender, ya todo lo cree saber, vieja es. Sabiduría de un loro, mente que no procesa ni trama.

Pero urdir pavonea.

Sabia sin sabiduría, reina sin reino, niña sin juventud, juez sin jurado.

No crees lo que crees pero te fuerzas a creerlo y  ni aún creyéndolo lo creerías porque la realidad es la sombra que te niegas a creer.
A tu fiel amante ruegas. Te declaras y arrodillas ante ella.

Amada y amante soledad. La única que te quiere acompañar.

Ámala, pues ahí está y siempre estará, ella es tu fin y final, cabalga en quien a ella te llevará.

Rodeada de harpías has, pues sólo ellas rodean el fruto podrido que honestos jamás tomarán. Compulsivamente, quieren morder tu podredumbre y a tu amante comienzas a invocar, pues cuántos anhelan tu compañía, llegas a pensar cuándo las ves revolotear.

Y cuánto valor ves en lo que les produce compulsión. Desdéñalas, sabes a quién realmente hay que amar. Porque tú amas en realidad. Tus sentimientos florecen cual moho en estanque, cual pus en enfermedad.

Amas lo propio que propio no es: tu dibujo en tu espejo roto. Recortes de lo ajeno, tuyos los haces. Reinventando tu yo y tejiendo tu amor. Narciso sólo era un aprendiz. De su obsesión más que él tú puedes saber: asomado al estanque él a sí mismo se veía, tú a la diosa ves.
Tu mejor interlocutor razón te da. Corona las palabras que fluyen de tu hablar.

Eco se hace llamar.

Pero, ¿qué importa su nombre? ¿Qué importa su impersonalidad?. Tiene rostro, ¿importará algo más?. Colocas tu altar y él te va a rezar.

Ferviente y creyente, profeta que tus palabras recita, ciego que sólo voz es. La fe no es de ver.

Sólo hay que creer.

Y así cree él lo que dictas: lo que tu espejo mancillado dice que es."

* Royal Killer Queen seal *


Killer Queen has spoken.

Off with her head now.

Wonderland's mine, out of my land, you fool,

beauty less, destroyer of the wonders of my Kingdom.

Let the sentence be full filed and my words obeyed.

OFF WITH HER HEAD!!!