Adobo Criollo Sergio Antonio Ortiz Rivera

Surf I loved, was rejected, and slowly vanished, but I loved again and eventually returned to the photographs and the sea. Today I am the surf. 

It’s winter in Paris There’s a man singing to me on the street. He wears an elegant smile and leans against a wall like a question mark, one who lives in a house where no one sweeps away the sadness. It’s as if  Lenard Cohen  were in my room  describing  the weight of melancholy encrypted in the rain.

if it’s not leap a year is made up of three hundred sixty five stumbles… I’m testing the fall

Hombre de los ojos diminutos Si no fuera por la arcilla cocida, las cuentas bancarias vacías, y el temor a mantener a un vividor, me habría hecho pequeño, insulsa ráfaga cansada de aire erguido, gran soplo arrastrado por una cara bonita Barbie Super Star en el bulevar de los sueños rotos

You don’t have a name, you're what's never explained crystal chamber the sea pale bedroom where I wonder in tears cellophane planet tumulus fishbowl autumn fog and more shipwrecked in the mysterious dance of a smile

Acentúas los pliegues de mis ojos Mi viejo hechicero, lento desgarrar de mi tibia negrura, golpeas tu cuerpo sobre mis costillas mientras me desdoblo y te miro desde la esquina de mi cama mordiendo mi espalda, acariciando mis pezones, acabando con mi rio, fatigado, arropando en mi noche.

En la voz baja de tu hermosura No gusto de flor primaveral, prefiero jardín otoñal, flor marchita a punto de partir, tallo besado de ayeres, tobogán experto en el delirio con nalgas estrujando  la tibieza de mi cuerpo. 

Solar Music At the edge of a dream in progress a rowboat, a faceless shadow, invites me to drown in its waters. Uncertainty enters my feet, awakens another part of me and spreads a cold sweat on my forehead. I jump from the dream, switch on the light trembling.

Despicable Night I don’t remember loving you but I do recall walking by your side, your indigo eyes, lips Parfait-Amour , walkway of the sad and lonely.

Aligerando el paso No encuentro descanso, amores impúdicos tocan constantemente a mi puerta. Me rodean, rondan mis ojos como vírgenes ciegas. Se escurren entre mis piernas buscando el calor que en tiempos pasado colmaba mis sentidos de dicha. Ya ni lo busco, no quiero la cama, no inquiero la calma. El desajuste de horas se arremolina en mi mano lubricada. Es el olvido, la inmisericordia de mi soledad.

We're all that's left “quedamos nosotros, victoriosos, con alas y deseos y dientes y locura.” Efraín Huerta The two of us lying on the sand after making love on the beach. You said it’s late but I couldn’t imagine you'd leave. I remember the treaded paths, the beach resorts where our hands defeated our bodies. We were hybrids dreaming of words and other fevered voices while others sank like rocks in the fog. I don’t remember how many of these encounters we had, the torn arteries, the bottomless anguish deleted from my memory, the storm traveling inland destroying my divided past.

We're all that's left “quedamos nosotros, victoriosos, con alas y deseos y dientes y locura.” Efraín Huerta The two of us lying on the sand after making love on the beach. You said it’s late but I couldn’t imagine you'd leave. I remember the treaded paths, the beach resorts where our hands defeated our bodies. We were hybrids dreaming of words and other fevered voices while others sank like rocks in the fog. I don’t remember how many of these encounters we had, the torn arteries, the bottomless anguish deleted from my memory, the storm traveling inland destroying my divided past.

We're all that's left “quedamos nosotros, victoriosos, con alas y deseos y dientes y locura.” Efraín Huerta The two of us lying on the sand after making love on the beach. You said it’s late but I couldn’t imagine you leaving. I remember the treaded paths, the beach resorts where our hands defeated our bodies. We were hybrids dreaming of words and other fevered voices while others sank like rocks in the fog. I don’t remember how many of these encounters we had, the torn arteries, the bottomless anguish deleted from my memory, the storm traveling inland destroying my divided past.

7 things to do after the Rapture Break into Condom World, spend a month in Paris with a flasher, learn how to walk on stilettos, make sure you’re not wearing panties, fly to Bangkok, get a massage with a happy ending, eat lots of pineapple, you’ll end up tasting like a lollipop, go to the S&M dungeon at the Torture Garden in a leather kilt, don’t give away your fetishes, find the man of your dreams and marry him on the spot.

When you’re on the screen I thought I was a mermaid with an overgrown tail and black eyes. Your fingers, a sea of mirrors, slit my body apart. I felt like a snail full of anxiety, desiring to taste your laughter, your thighs from which windstorms of urgencies spring, to tangled gannets in my mouth. But this glass sun, this virtual camera   of anguish does not live of seaweed or salt. It walks away from the sea to grovel in the reality of you temporary nakedness.

Cuando estas en pantalla Pensé que era sirena de rabo frondoso y ojos negros. Tus dedos, un mar de espejos, quebraron mi cuerpo. Me sentí caracol lleno de ansiedad por saborear tu risa, tus muslos de donde nacen vendavales de urgencias, alcatraces enredados en mi boca. Pero este sol de cristal, esta cámara de angustias, no vive de algas ni de sal, y se alejó del mar para humillarse en la realidad pasajera de tu desnudes.

tip me if you like what you see— the heartbeat of a bird in agony, I’m all out of tokens

cam 2 cam there’s so much missing’ from his profile … is he clairvoyant does he jump from star to star

cam 2 cam grité mis alabanzas y solicite un regalo dame tus noches solitarias el bálsamo de tus flaquezas