Geometric tile

Smoking marihuana
He could not understand what
It was written in that book
His eyes were fleeing
In details and imperfections
Masturbated with his face
In geometric tile
The world pretended not to notice
But the mind was in a pack
Illustrated of soap powder.

Your tears

In those warm afternoons
When I said that loved you
You showed me something in your hands
Then very carefully
You worked it with a card
I asked you
"Why do you use that?"
You answered me very sad
"Because it is only one
That dries
My tears".