Original in spanish
I wake up with the roar of the trains, a few steps away from my home. Everything around me is a mess: a battlefield of dirty dishes and filthy clothes, and air isn't air at all, but cigarette smoke. Wich reminds me, I need a cigarette, but when I check the pockets of my jeans I find nothing. After an exhaustive search, I find a packet with one last good, under my bed. With the cigar among my teeth, I prepare to go to work.
It's another hard day at the forge; yelling boss, unbearable heat, my partners fighting and rowing about any single thing. It's literally like working in hell. When I leave, my darkened face and the smell of the industrial fire adhered on my clothes reveal the devil inside me, inside my partners, inside all of us. A black-faced, red-eyed demon, who hides in the deepest corner of our souls, a devil born through the mankind, who is told to never set free.
What you're never told is, that demon is the only real thing you've got, and to fraternize with it is what in fact, will take you far.
I wake up with the roar of the trains, a few steps away from my home. Everything around me is a mess: a battlefield of dirty dishes and filthy clothes, and air isn't air at all, but cigarette smoke. Wich reminds me, I need a cigarette, but when I check the pockets of my jeans I find nothing. After an exhaustive search, I find a packet with one last good, under my bed. With the cigar among my teeth, I prepare to go to work.
It's another hard day at the forge; yelling boss, unbearable heat, my partners fighting and rowing about any single thing. It's literally like working in hell. When I leave, my darkened face and the smell of the industrial fire adhered on my clothes reveal the devil inside me, inside my partners, inside all of us. A black-faced, red-eyed demon, who hides in the deepest corner of our souls, a devil born through the mankind, who is told to never set free.
What you're never told is, that demon is the only real thing you've got, and to fraternize with it is what in fact, will take you far.
The devils that leave the forge start some plans for tonight, I join to their coven without hesitation. Our dirty faces scare those who pass us by; a kid points at me and his mother takes him away in one go; saying -as I wasn't right there- that if the doesn't study, he'll end up like me...
Who the fuck tells those bitches that I am the emblem of ignorance? I can read, I can write, and count. Maybe not perfectly, but I can. And I know how to do a lot of things, some of them not so acceptable, but I know it. Who told them they are perfect? They are not so different of me. They work, they get dirty, they also have an inner devil. I bet anything that prudish prig fucks some filthy pawn like me, when her little brat is not around.
We get into a pub, from where the anarchist chords of a punk group flows into streams. At the hallway there's a mirror, where I look at my own sweaty and dirty face. An aged version of myself (I'm only 25) looks back at me. It is my looks, my eyes, the only thing I can call mine in that face. The right one green, the left one blue. Blood-shoot eyes that will keep that way, when I leave the place at the dawn, I don't care too much since it will be sunday. I clean my face with the sleeve of my jacket to look more "decent", tonight I don't wanna go home alone.
Music invades every inch of the pub. It pumps and fuzes with every atom of the people in here. The critical and rebellious lyrics bite my working conscience, saying I could leave this misery if I wanted, if I just stand up in riot... A girl jumps and dances close to me, showing off like a peacock. But she's any less than mundane to me, so I get away with my partners to the bar. They are drinking beer, and one of them gets me a full pint, just for me. While I drink, the group solve: some of them surrender to the rhythm and dance, while another ones get lured by the women of this place. Some of them look like authentic witches, with red mouths and sticky make up that refuses to melt from their tired eyelids. Only one of them look pretty for me, but nothing more.
Only one stays with me. He is so fucked up, he suddenly starts yelling and spiting at me. We get out through the back door, and after some words, the demons measure forces with our fists. Kicking and punching, blood and some teeth (of his) fly out. When it all ends, I leave him bleeding and grieving; his sobs follows me til I get back into the pub.
Finally, at a cornered table, I find what I'm looking for. Someone whose dark cave eyes watch me getting closer, someone whose delicate hands ask for two pints, the second one for me. We drink with no words spoken. It's someone who have seen on me, a demon similar to its own, although I don't look so good. So clean.
Finally, at a cornered table, I find what I'm looking for. Someone whose dark cave eyes watch me getting closer, someone whose delicate hands ask for two pints, the second one for me. We drink with no words spoken. It's someone who have seen on me, a demon similar to its own, although I don't look so good. So clean.
We leave the pub without a word, to the subway. Once we are at my place, just closing the door, the devils emerge in lust, tearing down our clothes...
Before the sunrise i wake up, finding another body on my bed. The skin scratched, almost in blood, but peacefully breathing. His demon looks at me through his dark eyes, making me realize that, for a while, I won't let him go. Nor him, nor his dark inhabitant".
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