ARI_001 Painting

Again I'll take one of my favorite poets to explain this painting for u (This time Rafael Cadenas, from my country)= DEFEAT I who have never had a trade who have felt weak facing every competitor who lost the best titles for life who barely arrive somewhere and already want to leave (believing that moving is a solution) who have been denied in anticipation and ridiculed by the most able who lean against the walls so I won’t completely collapse who am a target of laughter even for myself who thought my father was eternal who have been humiliated by professors of literature who one day asked how I could help and the answer was a loud laugh who will never be able to start a home, nor be brilliant, nor triumph in life who have been abandoned by many people because I barely speak who am ashamed of acts I haven’t committed who have needed little incentive to start running down the street who have lost a center I never had who have become the laughing stock of so many people for living in limbo who never found anyone who would put up with me who was omitted in favor of people more miserable than me who will spend my whole life like this and who next year will be mocked many more times for my ridiculous ambition who am tired of receiving advice from others more lethargic than me (“You’re so slow, get with it, wake up”) who will never be able to travel to India who have received favors without giving anything in return who traverse the city from one end to another like a feather who let myself be pulled along by others who have no personality and don’t want to have one who muffle my rebellion all day who haven't joined the guerrillas who haven’t done anything for my people who don’t belong to the FALN and all these things and others whose enumeration would be interminable make me desperate who cannot escape my prison who have been dismissed everywhere for being useless who actually haven’t been able to get married or go to Paris or have a serene day who refuse to acknowledge facts who always drool on my story who am an imbecile and more than an imbecile from birth who lost the thread of the discourse being executed within me and I haven’t been able to find it who don’t cry when I feel the desire to do so who arrive late to everything who have been ruined by so many marches and countermarches who desire perfect immobility and impeccable speed who am not what I am nor what I am not who despite everything maintain a satanic pride even if at certain hours I’ve been humble to the point of bringing myself to the level of stones who have lived in the same circle for fifteen years who thought I was predestined for something beyond the everyday and have achieved nothing who will never wear a tie who can’t find my body who have perceived my falsehood in lightning flashes and haven’t been able to topple myself, sweep away everything and create my indolence, my flotation, my wandering a new freshness, and obstinately commit suicide within arm’s reach I will get up off the ground even more ridiculous to keep mocking others and myself until the day of final judgment.