The Way Things Are

Well, I'll ramble once again about things that'll never change. I'll muster up the energy to rehash that which is to be forgotten, but just can't seem to leave. I'll do this to myself simply because it feels like the right thing to do sometimes. Sometimes, rather seldom, I think about everything: from beginning to end. It seems like a fairytale that has been polluted by its frequent repetition. Everything that was beautiful now is only mildly moving. But at night! Oh, at night everything is so vivid!

And I have to remind myself of the reality that I live in. You aren't mine, and I'm not yours. Nothing was meant to be, and that is just the way things have to be. Forget reasons, forget reason. It's just the way things are.

Happy thanksgivingg!(: i hope you enjoy your day with your friends and family!(:

Letter to Myself

There are many things I want out of life, but in a man? Not many qualities make me happy, and I find that hard to conceive, but when I introspect, these qualities are the ones that matter most.


I want someone who'll treat me like their best friend, but that will also know how to love me.


I want someone who will challenge me, but also support me.


I want someone who will let me love them as much as I possibly can without worrying about a lack of integrity.


I want someone honest, truthful, intelligent, understanding, driven, passionate, and humble.


I want someone that understands my humor and will partake in it. 


I want someone to know when it's business time and when it's leisure time.


I want someone that'll love me like I'm willing to love them.


Perhaps I ask for too much, but that's what I want. Nothing less will satisfy this lonely heart. That brave man will hopefully see that he too has a brave companion to meet his needs and wants as he'll meet mine.

Sweet Enlightenment

Laying in bed, and memories of what used to be drip into my mind. Hopes of a perfect life when the basis of everything was so corrupt; how naive of me. I don't blame anyone; there's nothing left to say. Love was love, heartbreak was heartbreak, and nothing else. Nothing else happened, nothing else was to happen. I'm happy now, and that's thanks to such an abrupt halt into what I had became complacent with. Thank you for your time, it was an introduction to life. To forget anything is to be ungrateful. To be ungrateful would be to be unwise. 

And now time moves forward to the brighter days of the present, each day striving for the eternal sunshine. There hasn't been a day where love and happiness have exuded themselves to warm me. There hasn't been a day where friends remind me of what is childhood. There hasn't been a day where life hasn't kissed my cheek. I could stand before the masses and proclaim this blessing, but to know it and appreciate it matters much more. Had it not been for the lovely darkness, this warm enlightenment would not have been as sweet. My life now would not be so joyous had it not been for the despair.

Enamored by Happiness

Memories both good and bad
but mostly inhibiting
Day dreams of newness that appeal
To my heart

A lust so strong it was called Love
Debauchery at best
New friendships that remain true
To my heart

Wasted efforts on less than worthless
Futile tears and supplications
Days so bright that call
To my heart

A year of torment now sweetly erased

A devil now disappeared

An angel to sing to my dreams

To my heart

Fickle Existence

I leased my ideals to a devilish fiend-
Thank God.
I rented my heart to a lier and a cheater-
Thank God.
He made his mark during his visit-
Thank God.
His momentary presence damaged me-
Thank God.

Thank God it was only Love, and not Commitment.

Mourning.

What IS permanent in this lifetime?
Does love die when it's most needed?
And friendship? Does it fade like the wilting rose?

When I needed you most, why did you leave?
When I had nothing else, why were you so comfortable leaving me alone?

What is permanent in this lifetime?
Can I too fade with the memories I hold so dearly?

YOU

Fickle is the mind, but not my heart. I wait, not so patiently, for your arrival. How ignorant of me. Eyes wander, and my mind cannot restrain. The heart does not haste. My heart does not haste. Love, how dare you leave me? This vast space is free, unoccupied, desolate. Not for the acquisition of the feint hearted. Not for anyone, but you.

I Do Not

I'll pour out every bit of soul I have left-
You have no idea
You have no clue.
Yet I love you?
With your distance,
With your disdain
I continue you to love you the same.

Have I no afterlife to look forward to?

I have almost no desire
to further inquire
why it is you've left me.
And yet I remain -
cold, calamitous, crazed.
Stop holding me so close
When I can't have a daily dose.
Stop pretending that you cared
when in actuality you never dared.

Have I no afterlife to look forward to?

Indeed I do not.

WARMTH

And this emotion inhabits my soul.

Love so eternal for those around me.

Challenge yourself to be compelled. 

Compelled to the warmth I exude.

GUILT, MAYBE

The feelings you still invoke surprise me from time to time. Remembering things I shouldn't make me feel happy and at peace: hoping that I'm not as damaged as I thought I would be. No wonder I adore talking to your brother. No wonder I felt compelled to greet your father. No matter how informal, I still get nervous: nervous that you'll know, nervous of impressions, nervous of reconnection. I loved you, not anymore. Yet, I can't deny - I won't - that I adore the life I had with you. I loved what you did for me, no matter how austere or ostentatious. I loved the love you gave me, or pretended to give me. I'm not sure, and I'm not sure I care.

I think the universe wants us to reconnect.

I think others might have the same wish.

I think I'll be conservative, for once, and sleep with guilt, or lack thereof.

Simple. Motivated.

Your hands so bare
are more illustrative
than all of the literature
I can lay my hands on.
Those bare hands-
play so beautifully
explicate thoroughly-
have not graced mine.
Although so close,
I can only imagine-
how they feel,
the warmth,
the comfort.
Although we're close,
I can only imagine
the love you could exude.

Lovely

I cannot resist: your eyes are so lovely.
Your voice so soothing.
Your hands so far, but yet, sort of close.


I cannot resist, but I must. 


I can't live this again. 


You poor soul. You know what's on the other side.
Let go.


Let go, and you'll be fine.


I'm here to catch you.


Just let go, Lovely.

Tears for the Loneliness

Te fuiste tantas veces:
no solo como tu,
sino tambien como el, 
y hasta el siguiente.


Quedate, por favor.


Quedate la noche
Quedate la madrugada.


Te recuerdas de esa noche - tan bella
el mar, la luna
tus ojos, tus manos
mis abrazos, mis besos


Hazme sentir eso mismo
Dame el amor otra vez
Hazme tu prisonera


Viviendo tan sola -
Mirame, tan enferma


Enferma de soledad.

La Neblina

I don't know what it is about these men, or whatever, with a plethora of problems, that make me so interested. Am I looking for the empathy that I exude? Perhaps, and it's more than likely the case. His mystery, his newness: all of it was, and remains, attractive. It was short lived, thank goodness, but I still had hope. Still wanted more. I still wanted to have that someone that I cannot have. I'm not even sure who this is about anymore. Is it about you, the rationalizing and calculating one, or is it him, the abstract and reserved one? I want to say him, but this heart tells me it is a lie. It is a lie to say anything is over. It is a lie to say I forgot. It's even a lie to say that I forgave. I'm sorry, I just won't lie like that. It's foreign, and what do I gain from it? This introspection pains me much more than I thought it would have, but still- no surprise. There's hardly a surprise to anything anymore- except for one.


My ray of sunlight: he separates the haze that you create sometimes. He separates pain for joy. He separates the good from the bad. He separates you that I loved from you that I abhor. 


Yet, haze envelops apathetically, and I live in grey. I live in grey, hoping that the warmer and familiar hues of you return, even for a while.

MIO

I loved you like the warmth of the sun

the dead of winter

the tears of the sky

I loved you more than my heart could handle.

And now you're out in the world, 

hopefully happy

hopefully safe

Just like me.

I loved you like no other,

and yet the memories melt-

he's making his mark

he's taking me in

Taking This Past Year, and Making Something Beautiful of It.

Introspecting, I find a solution to the chaos of life. Confusion is contained; Calamity is calmed. Balance is maintained. And that balance must embrace Truth. Without Truth, my world stops, I cave, I regress, I fall, I trip, I stutter, I mutter, I... I... I am not me. Truth tucks away all the fears and paranoias that emerge at the sound of your... At the sound of that which I do not want.


And I've been graced.


I've been set free.


I've stopped the paranoid daydreams.


Truth came to visit me, and we both left satisfied.


Truth came to visit me, and I found the solution to the chaos of one year ago.

Resurrect

Resurrecting the demon inside me:
it snarls, it quivers, it rattles me.
There's no relinquishing
this monster-
with eyes so fiery
with grasps so strong
with power so infinite.
Temptation is so inviting,
and I must be cordial;
Is this the downfall?
Is this my cue
to fall into vice?
into habit?
into love?
Can my heart come out to play?
Or is it best for the monster to stay inside?

Pointe de la Langue

Familiarity has no antidote -


simple memories
turn so bitter
and time passes
but they don't wither....


futile memories:
why is there a delay
in the process of decay?


cringe inducing memories
always overstay their visit
perhaps lovely if they weren't
so appealing and illicit


Familiarity has no antidote - 
But I'm not sure I even wanted one

You Flit.

Broken hearts don't heal, at least not mine. This discourse isn't for you, although I wish it were.

You were beautiful to me. You were everything to me. The morning, the day, the evening, the night: all was you. And I wouldn't have had it any other way, but you did. And I can't forgive myself for not seeing that. I can't come to terms with this loss; I can't come to terms that I wasn't good enough for you. Did I falter? No, there was no way I could have! I did everything and more I could - just for you. No questions asked, ever. But it was easy for you to..... I refuse to recall.

While inhibiting myself, you cavort around - how utterly expected of you.

While I spend the days up and down, you flit around.

La Tua Piccola, Sempre

Calling you - no, I mustn't.

I'm not desperate

I'm not obsessed

I'm not even upset.

I just love you

Silly (I know) but -

it only took a moment

to love you eternally

to care for you

to never erase you from this heart.

The dreams: golden and caramel -

they've returned,

yet you're nowhere to be found.

I plow through the days,

none as colorful as last winter.

The warm grey -

where is it?

Where are you?

I'd sign off any composure I had

just to see you

I'd sign off any permanence 

to know you still love me.

The Past Never Really Goes Away, Now Does It?

His wide eyes, his light caramel skin, and his effeminate posture made my heart and soul sink. Sink so low that light no longer caresses. Yet, this darkness is alluring, and it's even, dare I say? Familiar. You're rushing, you don't even know, but you are: back to where you should belong, back to a place of comfort, back to a place of just, lust, and love. You're rushing back to me, and you don't even know! Please - I don't want to be alone in this reconnection. 


His innocence inquires, and I mustn't relay the gruesome details that pierced me, and continue to do so. How do I answer without lying to his naivety? How do I answer without being apathetic to his true self? I couldn't - I lied, partially. He's your blood, not mine, yet I'm obligated, much like I was then, and compelled to protect him from harm, even if it is you. I'm compelled to be the stabilizing force you cannot offer to him; even in your absence, he is tormented by scrutiny: let him live! Live beautifully, simply, honestly. 


The embraces spark a fire. Not between him and I, but between us. You were there: in mannerisms, in speech, in quirks, in slight appearance, in spirit. I felt you there, felt you near. Felt a warmth that hasn't been replaced yet. Felt ...


It's a late hour, and I'm here, contemplating, wondering, wishing, abhorring, loving. You shouldn't have left this heart to shrivel. It was all yours, in everything. I'm here, stammering the same arguments, the same fucking arguments that you never cared to listen to. I'm crushing myself to try to attract your reason, but there's no dealing with you rationally, is there? You degraded yourself: I believed in you. With everything I had. Not because I had to: you, somehow, shone a light that could not have been ignored, yet.... it was futile. That light was not yours; then whose? Then why?


I can't breathe anything but YOU now, and I'm falling short of breath....


Stammering, crying, craving, raving, ranting, panting


You never really went away, did you?

Status Quo > My Thoughts, Beliefs, Philosophy?

I doubt the veracity of society:
capricious and
fickle and
selective and
demeaning.


Fuck this masculine nature,
the injustice,
the stupidity.


Recluses we will become
if change does not grace us.
Tyrants to appear
if mediocrity further flourishes.


There is no need for disgusting habits -
no need for this box we live in

L'hiver

Cooler mornings,
Anniversaries not celebrated
Reminiscing on beautiful moments
That hold no value


Beauty grows old
Perishes
Yet I grasp those days
Like the diamonds of the World


Months once familiar
Days so slow
They creep
I weep, subtly


Cooler mornings
Means cooler nights
Lonely
Alone.

PURE

Those warm arms held her close to him the entire night, never wanting to let go. He whispered to her until she drifted off away from him to sleep, but the anxiety pestered him all night.

"When will I, 

if ever,

see her again?"

His breath shortened along with the night: how could he confess such emotions so soon? He swore that he'd never tie her down, never bind her into a future that she did not fathom. The minutes were slipping from his grasp, and he realized that life always moves on, even if he didn't. He wrapped his arms tighter around her, and laid next to her for the last time.

As he rose from his slumber, he found a brief letter in the place of his lover.

"I couldn't comprehend you.

For a moment, 

I think I loved you,

but only then.

You are too beautiful.

Ethereal.

Pure"

As he drowned in the sands of time, all he could taste is the sweet night he could never erase from his mind, or heart.

Despedida.

You revisited me this morning. Waking me from my deep and deserved slumber, you gently knocked on my memory, and asked to come in. I entertained you, only for a while, but you were earnest. You reminded me of all the beautiful moments we shared: so many, so beautiful, so irreplaceable. You kissed my lips again, softly and honestly, saying goodbye, detaching yourself from me. You embraced me again, warming my heart for someone else to enjoy. You were off, into the distance, and I was revitalized.

D.

Pierce me with those green eyes,
It's a pleasure I'll settle with, for now.

Rely on me for simple conversation,
I'll satisfy your needs, if you please.

Ask of me your solitude,
I won't cross these grey and manipulable boundaries.

Raise me up and tear me down,
I need to be reminded of reality.

Convolusion

My curse

Your blessing.

Take advantage

of staunch loyalty.

I'm here,

waiting

just for you.

What more

could you

want

or

need?

Grey Area

Flying emotions, and I can't get you out of my head:

You might be silently suffering,

and I worry.

There's a level of empathy, but I can't help but care.

Care more for you than a friend should.

Infatuation is perverse,

and given the situation, I too am perverse:

I would love to see you succeed in

happiness,

your passions,

and life.

But under the sick paradigm,

I'm not infatuated.

I'm not infatuated because this is something more.

This is an indescribably grey area,

and I can't help but love it that much more.

Insatiable

Darling, I see you hurting, and I want to go save you.

I see your heartbreak etched on an innocent face,

and I want to shield you from the evils of this world.

I feel the burning desire that you have for her,

and the hatred emitted because of him.

The perverse triangle made,

I can't help but want to make it a square.

I know this is horrible timing, but,

would you,

even for a moment,

maybe consider my character?

I know this is wrong, but my heart leaps for you.

I know I am wrong, but I want more

Can't Be Arsed

I find these grains of what was slipping swiftly in the soft winds of the early fall. Sometimes your presence, memories of, graces me with lovely and lovable moments that we shared. But most of the times, I can't be arsed. Nonchalance and careless emotions drain the life out of what was, much like you had done. I can't be arsed to sympathize. I can't be arsed to empathize. I can't be arsed to love.

But I want to so bad. I want to feel, breathe, bleed, devote myself to Love. I want Love to take authority. I want life to be simple again.

Crooked smile; boyish charm.
Darling, you're much too innocent,
even for my taste.

Love is not in your vocabulary,
nor will I be the one to introduce it.

Not Even Philosophy or Literature Can Cure The Lonely Heart.

I can't continue so stagnantly.

I want to feel the difference between night and day. Taste the bitterness of an absence that its presence is even sweeter. I want to be completely iced over so fire can ignite this lonely heart.

I can't live this life, a facade of cynicism, without Love.

The Comparison That Makes Me Cringe.

How I feared this comparison. How I was stifling and muffling a matured distaste for you. We don't think alike, I'd like to snap, but I see its complimentary nature, to some degree. Academically, we're one the same road; philosophically, I seek Truth and Love. And you don't. Self preservation, how basic of you. Your Id, overdeveloped, and yet I supported it. My idea of Love held me true to you, is this not something we can agree on? If not, then why? I was only as devout as my soul could allow, and my soul was weak, and it allowed for complete potential. Our philosophies, or rather mine and your lack thereof, differ too much: it's in the words you speak. Yet, how do we compare? How are we so alike? How do we inhabit the same world, but different societies? Our intellect, for the most part humanistic in nature, is all that we can share, am I right? I mean, look at the way we function in a world full of mediocrity! I rise above, you fall in love. I cringe at this comparison, and I thought to let you know.

Antitheses

Your memory is compelling:

caramel dreams of happiness,

so sweet, so intoxicating

days of fickle planning,

by your part at least.

of secret kisses in the car,

only to be replaced moments later.

nights of passion and love combined,

you passion - me love.

of eternally stimulating conversations,

my lectures.

3 months of an addictive love,

a relative term.

of emotional and social turmoil,

directly caused by your "indirect" decisions.

Your memory is compelling,

just enough to make me sick.

My Only One

Beauty: on the tips of my fingers and tongue.

These phrases, connected, somewhat seamlessly,

all of them, unfortunately for you.

This confession, my only one, derives from sin:

sin of unmeasured passion,

sin of free emotions,

sin of infinite love

for someone other than me.

All acts committed in your name

come naturally-

have reason-

are rational-

are beautiful,

even this romanticizing confession.

Why dispel you completely? -

you and I birth these

beautiful-

sometimes incoherent-

true

combinations, contradictions, and confessions.

Reading Cheap Novels

Ojos verdes

manos de escultor -

cuantas haz manipulado?

Leo tus expresiones arbitrarias:

Perdon, mi amor, no soy ingenua.

Nunca lo vas a figurar.

Pelo negro

boca de actor -

tu fachada ya me lo se.

La obra que crees arte

es me guia:

dejalo que vive en su imaginacion.

No caigas en lo mismo de las otras

Piel de caramelo,

mente de Escorpion -

finges dulzura, pero te conozco:

Mentiroso, Peverso, Manipulador.

Nada como tu cara indica

Varying Currencies

Promises: words.

The only thing you ever gave me,

besides Grief.

What better than to repay you in the same Currency.

But my words are the Euro

And yours the gravel in the road.

My words have meaning,

you're not worthy of this Load.

Sick Family Trees

Once, a plethora of emotion:
Now, a simple shadow-
Love, you I shun.

Pain, a rejected inheritence:
what heresy to treat it
with amorous patience.

Epiphany!

Father, Love
Child, Pain.

Holding no part will I
in such incestuous ways.

Genre

Words - shuffling submissively

Each phrase inching closer to a goal.

Body language beats so loudly:

pounding, thumping - rhythmically

Their hands - instruments only they know to play:

a code, a dialect: known to two.

The Genre they comply to:

A Difficult Dance

Wishful Thinking.

Thunder breaks through my windows and doors, and emits a comforting rumble.

In my mind, it's you knocking on the door, drenched, asking to come in.

Baby, You Can't.

Slice and dice me: I can't feel a thing.

Try to get close to my heart: I bet you you'll fail.

Open my eyes to a world full of illusions: promises are for the weak.

Treat me like your rag: Baby, you can't. I'm invulnerable.

Indulgences

Fresh salts dampen her cheeks.

Who's to say she's happy?

Who's to say she's sad?

She's so lost in a transition

that reeks of familiarity.

She doesn't do well,

but she fakes it so swell.

She's ready to be done.

For everything that's in the air

to be stuck in concrete.

She's wants clarity

and certainty.

But no one will indulge her in such luxury.

Love is a Loud Lie.

Passing everything, nothing important, and I find myself lost. Lost amongst a dirty sea of people that are apathetic and pathetic. I'm drowning in this mass, and nothing, not even driftwood, can make it to save me. Somehow, the surface doesn't appeal to me either. A lie that is breathed by all, spread by all, known by all as something pure plagues the stable ground, and I'd rather sink swiftly to the bottom of the apathy. I'd rather live in truth.

When The Summer Becomes The Fall

When the beach weather drops to a blandness,

When the relaxation is kicked out only to be replaced by stress,

When the summer becomes the fall, I'll be closer to winter.

A time less foreign, but much too familiar for my taste.

When the days grow shorter, I'll eschew the haste

to remember anything from a previous time.

My hair's different. My clothes are too.

Maybe even my philosophy.

When the summer becomes the fall,

that later evolves into winter

I'll be the same, only better.

8.2.10

The gown stuck on her scrapes the grey sand, and the waves scrape her. Not even the tumultuous salts of the water can distract her mind from the earlier events of the evening. Nothing can distract her.

She walks the stone cold coast with salty tears and a dress now tinted to the hues of the depths of the sea. What does the land have to offer besides pain and grief? And without thought, she is added to the ocean: lost, lonely, but with some hopeful glee.

Oh, I'm So In Love!

Infatuation, you plague the naive so well. Teach me your ways. I envy the energy you give off, and the ease in which you present yourself. Shall I be your apprentice? I doubt I'll fall in to your traps again.

But I just can't take my eyes off of you! May I tag along?

[Love is different from infatuation. Don't learn the hard way.]

No Invitations.

Visions are blurry

Coherency is leaving me

Debauchery hasn't received her invitation

Nor will you.

Innocence plays on our words

She's on our lips, too

She shines bright,

like earlier nights.

Evenings without her contemptuous sibling

and I've already forgot you

Warped Visions

What kind of mother turns on her daughter? Wishing malice and trouble with a fiery look.

What kind of lover forgets about emotions so strong for their partner? Turning away with an ever faltering memory.

What kind of friend deserts another at their weakest of moments? Abandoning completely and slightly smug.

What kind of life was I assigned to? Ripping me to shreds with every corner I turn.

Tylenol Doesn't Help This Ache.

My mind aches. My heart aches. I ache for something more than just this. It's time for these dreams to mature and become reality, just like me. Time for me to grow up, and be who I'm going to be forever. I take these summer nights to plan my future, no longer dream of it. Will I succeed? Will I be the person I so want to be? What if I fail? And my mistakes, will they haunt me? Or are they easily dissolved like the ones now?

I ache to know if this world is as great as they say. I want to know how romantic things are; I have a feeling that the world is just as grey as I suspect. There are no shades of pink, or happiness, just grey. Just survival. Will philosophy be as useless as the life I live now? Will my aspirations be spat on because this world harbors no heart?

Soulless, conscienceless, apathetic.

No, I wasn't talking about you, but you're damn close. I'm talking about this world that's raising us. This world that's corrupting us.

Reformations

Black gold, you've blackened our hearts and veins. Each beat produced from us, you produce a barrel. When you cease to exist, will we? When you sputter your last drops, will we be gasping for air?

[Reform for a healthy environment and economy.]

Child of This World

He feeds her naivety with pleasing lies that he calls promises and the intoxicating hormones choke her into whispering futile "yes"s without a blink from her young and innocent eyes. As she pleas for truth and all that is good in the world, he bears Life's baptismal gifts of corruption and lies.

She is now a child of this world.

Lack of Reminiscing [fiction]

The pit-pats on the steaming concrete blend and blind. Walking away from a taunting familiarity pries at my very existence: no amount of cheap alcohols will dry the tears or make you the person I once knew.

Trotting on only God knows what terrain, I eschew any memories that'll have me on a counterproductive path. Trekking on my trail of tear. Rebuilding what you tore down.

Good Morning, America

America--

Freedom: where?

Equality: non-existent.

Safety in the form of an everlasting and devastating war.

Terrors and tragedies gone unnoticed.

Erratic decisions amounting to more chaos.

Reigning idiots that only care for money.

Independence gone: American slaves to oil.

Nonchalant ignorance being celebrated by the masses.

Gone with the wind: our traditions.

Normal society has an infatuation with all things GREEN.

And that's not a reference to the environment.

Tyrannical corporations now have opinions.

I'm not the only one complaining.

Oppression is a plague; someone save us.

No, America: you're no longer great, but just a mess.

[Patriotism is not kicking people out from this country. Patriotism is doing what's best for your country, and the masses have it all wrong. Let's change the USA.]

You Can't Leave Me.

Waking up to you brightens my day.

Falling asleep to you colors my dreams.

Without you, there's no reason to live.

When you're around, there's a spring to my millions of erratic steps.

Inspiration, don't ever leave me.