Carlos y Maria

Carlos is the reason their decaying staircases were built with rogue ratónes and rotting roaches.

Carlos waits on the quarter-century-old colchon on which they made sticky, sweaty sexo on.

Carlos was going crazy cuando murio on the bathroom floor behind that apartment door.

Maria died last and was left to permanently daydream in la llorona’s limboland.

Maria cries freshly-ironed tears in the apartment she doesn’t feel at home in yet still calls “casa”.

Maria tiembla y twitches, never at ease, always fretting over something unseen.

Carlos arises from the prison graveyard and knocks down Maria’s caged, wooden puerta.

Maria está viva because of her decision to live in that crumbling, decrepit apartamento.

Their apartment floors disintegrate and die before they could confess divorcio.

Their love transformed into a twilight zone, emitting immortal, tar-black ceniza. 

They lived in the apartamento de 2 dormitorios for decades until they couldn’t coexist.

Carlos y Maria hang on to life from a hilo fino tejido with no other plans amidst them.

Maria y Carlos’ niños no nacidos died throughout every decade of their lustful, lost lives.

Carlos y Maria vivían encima de 18 flights of cracked pipes, pavements and poverty lines.