To Sara Ahmed
I’m afraid of going to sleep
of wasting my time in the inactivity of dreaming.
I’m afraid of closing my eyes
and for the grams of life to burn up
by the fire of my sleeping neurons,
with the flames of your memory
just like tobacco touching your lips
in a symbolic dream.
To have and not to want!
Having to sleep and not wanting to sleep,
to want you and not be able to have you
what a macabre silly game.
In a world without a vertical axis
and only with the notion of movement,
of temporal lapse
maybe there I could have you
and you would want me.
There I could feel your brown skin
carved out of volcanic stone
like a jaguar warrior ready for battle.
In that place without a sense of rectitude,
I could tell you how much your presence
makes me shake
like a city built on a lake
of illusions and hopes,
of mental gaps where I don’t know if
your name or your face
are my own.
You smile and I take your cheek,
the blackness of your shirt is lost in your eyes
just like my neurons are wasted in your memories
and my blood circulates once again
to the rhythm of your hands,
your Centenarios smile.
I have to sleep but don’t want to sleep
closing my eyes scares me
but if that means entering
in a world with no vertical line,
then I want to dream forever
so I can have you,
and so that you perceive me
not as an object, but as a subject
one equal to your same direction.
What a macabre game
to want you and to not have you.
I close my eyes and your hands
wake me up.