Night prescription

When time arrives, trap all your polillas mentales in a jar
 and make a personal lamp, eventually
 their gray will transform.

To fireflies?

To light
                   (and that, is also 
                                a place, your place).

His horse

His name is Johnny, it´s a real bule de Minessota, that caballo, oh man! Johnny just shit the others horses around, you don´t wanna mess with fuckin Johnny! trece, that´s his number, he runs as the chamuco dude, you need to see it, pre cio sa beast. 

He ate all my carrots... by the way... but ñe, no problem, no, when he runs and he wins, I forget todito, las zanahorias, mi vieja cabrona, fuck it Johnny! dust and the brillito de su helmet in the track, oh heaven! all my billetitos to the fuckin Johnny!