Niña Abaloria is getting ossified

Niña Abaloria lays on her bed, haunted by Jesus Benedictory in the ogival afternoons
which are comprised in the yogurt of the days, which is rubicund, like the Pope in poncho.



Niña Abaloria breastfeeds the little beings of the Creation 
and she doesn't even know why, since she's 11 years old

and her home consists of one only room, which you and I knew in rotting nightmare
and the room it's carpeted in ice cream: apricot & chocolate


and Niña Abaloria is miraculously fed by the créme du ciel.



In votal pledge, Niña Abaloria endeavors a personal Ramadan, refusing to ingest the aliment

she spends her evenings fasting and playing violoncello of July
while the night arrives scabrous and full of illuminated mirror
lustral and burnished by the emitted tristesses de la lune
over a mechanical Madrid deafened by the chirr of the cicadas.


The amative Mandrake embraces her house, entangled on the walls
as Niña Abaloria trims it, in the solar and machinal mornings of Castile:

unconsciously or in dream, Niña Abaloria hurts a seminal duct of the plant
and Mandrake oozes thick sperm [because Mandrake is a man with milk].



At midnight, Niña Abaloria visits the transparent spiders which dwell in the benighted angles

with lantern and crumbs of porous cheese, like an albino miscreation Niña Abaloria

lustral and burnished by the emitted tristesses de la lune Nena Abaloria

and she's getting ossified, because she spends her days fasting, playing vielle à roue:



this merciful guardian angel that we all know whispers in her ear
and persuades her to nourish her mouth, with dulce de leche or robust onion

and is Lucifer himself, sent by God-Jehovah in red intercession
in crusade or communion with the human league, les bonnes gens.





Niña Abaloria attends these warm-hearted intimations, but she cannot manducate no nutrients
later in the month, Niña Abaloria loses muscle & tissue, and her skin gets prodigiously dissolved 

dissolved her skin, like the Eucharistic bread in the mouth of a saint communicant in Amiens.


In her thaumaturgical transfiguration, Niña Abaloria gets saintly ossified under occidental skies 

a portent of divine piety still maintains her entrails, veins, eyes and arteries in their place

and her heart, beating solferino and wet, like a medieval fleur-de-lis

and her unused womb, which contains a sun and a brave new world inside.









Nina Abaloria spends her evenings fasting and playing gaita zamorana
while the night arrives in one only thunder incinerating the ovoid mirror
lustrous and glistening by the Olympian fulmination
over a mechanical Madrid automated from a MacBook Pro.