Cut the strings (ensayo corto y poema)

Humanity, all moving, all wanting to do something,
all having something to do, never stoping this senseless.
This way of living has made of us just idiot robots,
with a sequenced thinking way. We have become
part of the machine, we are work, we are money,
we are everything but ourselves. Time rolls by
while we serve the needs of other persons.
While we try to find the breath to prolong
our miserable lives. All rutine, all monotony.
Looking for relief in the worng place, looking
for the fix in money. Money rules everything
but this letters that drive through my mind,
at least for now, maybe tomorrow we will
we will be walking down the street when we
see our brains on sale on that popular shop,
we have to kill the machine from inside,
to kill the fucking puppeter and cut the
strings of the puppets.


" Devolución"

Camino con mi cerebro en manos,
hoy lo tengo que empeñar,
talves en el Monte de piedad
me den algunos pesos,
pero eso es esperar demasiado,
talves solo me lo avienten en la cara
con desagrado, con mucho asco,
entonces volvere a rondar triste
con mi asquerosa mente y sin
ni un centavo en el bolsillo.

Abrire la tapa de mi craneo
lo sacare de ahi y lo aventare
al basurero, ahi mismo, donde
lo habia encontrado.