every couple of months
i start to wonder
what it would be like
to kiss your lips
and taste that chinese food
and run my fingers along your veins
and just talk to you
because i can
and she can't.
and what you don't know
is that i still,
even though its been a while
and even though you'd never
go for someone like me,
get a little flutter
when you call my name
and look at me with those chocolate eyes
like you don't want to talk
to anyone else in the whole world
but i know thats ridiculous
and i know that you don't really care
what i have to say to you
and i know that you would never lead me on
but you don't know
and i would never tell you
Lives among us never change
the story remains the same
times don't change
and most importantly neither do we
Men come of boys
rebel against their fathers
love their mothers
and hate the world they've just inherited
Women come of girls
grow apart from their shame
and blossom complete and true
ready to tend a world loved by few
are for none
are for one another
and for themselves.
Risks are taken
rules are breakn'
Smiles of ours faken
We grow to love the lost
how good we had it
To whomever is reading this,
First off, let it be known that I do not seek attention, nor do I wish it even in the slightest. See, I most certainly do prefer to be on my own. The spotlight's far too bright anyway. Or at least, that's what I'm trying to tell myself. However, I still can't seem to shake the feeling that this could very well be a cry for help, and that somehow, these words are my last hope. But then again, it is just another humid night, and maybe I'm only writing to make use of my time as I've come to the realization that I won't be falling asleep at any point soon.
I thought I was doing better, I honestly did. I'd started talking to my friends again. Laughing, sharing jokes, maybe even throwing in a genuine smile every once in a while. I mean, I sure as hell knew that I still had a long ways to go, but, things were finally starting to look up for me. Or so it seemed.
What I've never been able to quite fully understand, is how quickly everything can change. In the blink of an eye, really. Life is not a constant; it's a rollercoaster ride filled with ups and downs and bumps and turns and highs and lows and scary moments. A good day can turn into a horrible day in just a fraction of a second, because that's just the way it goes. We're supposed to grin and bear it because, well, we have to. Things change and people change, and life doesn't stop for anybody.
But tell me, what happens when it's a bad day after a bad day after a bad day? What happens when your friends give up on you? When there's no more jokes to be told and a fake smile is the only thing that will force the corners of your mouth to curve upward? See, maybe I was wrong before. Maybe life really is a constant sometimes; because it seems to me that all I've got are constant feelings of darkness. Depression. Loneliness. Regret. Hatred.
I don't hate the world though, trust me. It's a beautiful place. And maybe, just maybe, if things get better I'll sail the seven seas and travel to all the different countries and just let the greatness of this world engulf me and swallow me whole. I'd like that, I really would. You see, I love this world. It's above and beyond anything I could ever imagine. I don't even hate life, for that matter. The very fact that we are here today has got to be the biggest miracle there is. But then there's my life, which is a whole different story.
Don't get the wrong idea though. I am not complaining about my life. I have a roof over my head, I have food to eat, clean water, an amazing family, and so much more. There are children in this world who I'm sure would love to be me; children who don't have the money to attend school, or even to eat a decent meal. There are people getting raped, assaulted, bullied, and treated poorly every day. I am so lucky that I don't have to deal with any of that. So, why am I so unsatisfied? Why can't I just be grateful for everything that I have?
The thing is, I hate myself. Not only that though, I hate the way I've chosen to live my life. I hate the person looking back at me in the mirror each day, and I hate these thoughts in my head; screaming insults at me every second, loud enough to drown out everything that is good. I've forgotten how to appreciate the little things; like the fresh smell after a day of rain, or long walks on the beach, or laying down on cool grass to look up at the stars on a hot summer night. I guess I'm just too preoccupied with the things I should have done or shouldn't have done, not even thinking about the things that I still can do.
I'm a disappointment. A failure. I have put humans to shame. Why am I still here, when I clearly do not belong in a world of such beauty? Everything I touch gets spoiled; even myself. I should never have been born, but I was. And here I am still, but for what reason? What good can ever become of me? Should I just end it all right here and now, or would that do more harm than good? I don't know...
What I do know is this: I used to have hopes and dreams, always wishing that things would turn out in the end. But it's different now. I'm plummeting down into a tunnel of darkness, and the light that once could be seen near the end is now burnt out. I have no way of escaping.
Hope all is well on your end.
I just want to ride,
Far or near,
By your side,
And away from here.
Driving to nowhere,
In our own sweet time;
Arriving to unknown somewheres,
With your hand in mine.
We'll forget the rest of our town,
While we go into the stars.
After we watch the sun go down,
From the hood of your car.
With that crisp summer air,
And your face shining in the light,
Not a worry or care,
Our old lives out of sight.
i held you once.
(truly, just once)
if love had been fair
id still be there.
not as i was
but as i am.
i sit alone.
He found himself with painted walls, fish tanks, and a wiener dog. A place to sleep, a place to eat, a fine couch to rest his feet. A barbecue that was sturdy and new, a fridge of craft beer the finest of brew. But aside all the comforts and things on the walls the one thing that was most comforting of all, was a little blonde who would follow him around, who turned him rightside up when he was upside down. A girl who was worried about only him; and tryed everything to set him free . Free of a troubled mind that could not find the time for anyone but him. No matter her struggle, her talks, or her love, he would not cave to all the above. It came to the point where she had to go, she'd lost the person she loved the most. She left in a blink with her head in the fog, taking the pictures, fish tanks, and the weiner dog. The girl that knew him oh so well could not save him from an imprisoned hell. The self-inflected wound that would not mend; but conform as the standard of life he led. A blank canvas is all that he knew, no pictures on the walls, no new barbecue. No more snoring at night or meeting for fun, this fairy tale was finally done. It passed so fast and looking back was it worth it for where he's at? Is this the place where he should be, two job's, school, and a shattered dream. She was his love, his hope, and his home, and now it's just him; all alone.- Tdragon
Allisa Rodriguez tilted her mango mojito for the ninth time.
Sitting alone at a table with both palms on the table and not making an eye contact.
The Puerto Conejo runs it's business like most casinos in Nevada, Lights were dimmed, No windows and clocks. Low cost drinks are poured down by beautiful women. Yet unlike any other high roller bars near the Mexican-American border; Management was kind enough for them to keep the reject-the-client-if-you-want policy.
Slouched and yawning from time to time and emitting mannerisms like a 12 year old girl; who wasn't taught a thing or two about a girl's proper etiquette by a mother. Portraying nothing but the air of shyness and calm; with her dreamy eyes and a much paler complexion to be hispanic. Out of the picture like those unattractive school girls that were always shunned with monoblocks during junior proms, Of skanky cheerleaders and varsity jocks will always occupy the dance floor.
Seeing her colleagues do their rounds.
Allisa could see them throwing side glances at her. Half were patronizing, half throwing that just go-home-little-girl look with a grin.
The way they plagiarize the seduction of Eve like lap dogs at those butt crotched white collars. Considering her no threat to the competition.
Still, she wasn't startled when somebody came near her table. She then fixed her gaze on a mid 50's women with a fiery red hair wearing a thick make up that weren't enough to conceal the creases on her face and unbalanced eyebags that would make you wonder if she sleeps with only one eye alternately. Her fur coat always emitting a strong scent of nicotine. It was "mother mabel" one of the the wife's owner. "Alissa sweetie this is the fifth time this week! You won't get clients at that rate" Giving a huge effort to put warmth in her hoarse voice.
I'm sorry senora said alissa apogetically, looking at the corporate pigs with a half loosened necktie and two unbuttoned sleeve laughing while pinching a girl with a huge ass. Mother mabel then put the almost empty mojito that she gave alissa on a tray. She was just leaving when she paused and turn her head around to say something. "It's a shame how an innocent angel like you ended up in here". Saying that as if recalling something while Alissa just kept her head bowed down.
Two mexicans wearing suits that strongly resembles casts from the movie godfather suddenly came. The owner of the club, Don Sancho an almost bald man with a thick gray mustache entered a panic state that had him scold the waiters and Mother Mabel
One of the mexican with a huge scar on the side of his neck was busy talking to senor juan as the other with sunglasses went to the bathroom.
Como estas Sancho? (How are you Sancho?) Asked him while trying to light a cigarette as he sat on a bar stool.
Muy bien. Gracias gracias (very good. Thank you thank you) replying anxiously
Quieres una tequilla, senor parco? (Do you want a tequilla, mr parco) Sancho didn't wait for his answer but beckoned a waiter to bring a bottle and pour it down on a glass.
I come on business again this month but of different matter
But senor, I...I..don't know why they didn't show up there are very few of my girls lately. Business has been bad give me till next week to come up with money.
Lucky for you I'm not asking you to cough up, like I said I come on a different matter. Sancho
Senor Parco looked at the girls on the table along with the many men, And whispered something to Pancho. In a few minutes about half of the club was in disarray, most girls were coming out of the bathroom. And another manager has piled them up in the next room.
Senor Parco was shoving what seem to be peanuts on one hand from a tin plate and drinking on a little glass with another.
"Now, Among the 11 of you...Only Four will be lucky...You need not work... for months after this"
A lot of coffee cans on the pantry.
Alissa was once again left in the room
Use clumsiness to put poison
Picks up by two guys blindfolds girls
Tojeros hitman need nickname
Cuantos anos tienes conchita? (How old are you? Little girl)
No sabes hablar el ingles? (Do you know how to speak english?)
To be continued...
I now close my book on the last three chapters.
Tears will fall, but I won't forget the laughter.
Day to day we worked together; joining together.
I won't lie we encountered turbulent weather.
United we sang, so united we will stay, always
I closed three chapters of my life just today.
Please let me have several weeks
So that my anxiety can decompress
That I might feel comfort again
Give me several weeks
So the furniture is gone
And we can properly pretend
That there is no history
Past or future
Only the present
Cause you don't need this
And this is just practice
For your epic
If you don't
Stop for a month of Sundays
And really think about
What it is you're writing
Who you're antagonizing
I guarantee that you'll never
Have time to formulate it all
Type for a month
And you'll never get far enough
To encourage bindings
All that bullshit
That makes you RAMBLE
Yeah I said it
You run on at the mouth
Just kiss me
Tell me how you feel
With the mustached upper lip
And your fat bottom lip
Leave me mouth insides
That I have to wipe off
Several weeks before you leave me a poem like this
Don't do it.
I'll leave something that like this
Raucous. On blast. Larger than life.
Don't fuck this up.
I JUST got you a job.
We do not just live on Earth
And we do not just belong to Earth
Matter of fact
We are Earth
Everything we're made up of is Earth
Our flesh, hair, skin and bones
We are meant to live as one with Her
We are equipped and designed to live off of the land
We do not criticize Mother Nature
Nor do we attempt altering Her to make her "better"
Therefore; do not criticize your Self
And do not alter your Self
We were made flawless
Society has created "flaws"
Not Mother Nature
We believe She is perfect
We see Her beauty in everything She is
Why don't we feel the same about our Selves?
There are numerous flower breeds
Yet we find them all impeccable and uplifting
Us humans are just as much a part of nature as everything we see around us is
The trees, the sun, birds and the ocean
We do not pin point a single tree
Or a single bird
And look for its faults and imperfections
It is simply perfect
And there is no justifiable reason as to why we don't see our fellow humans the same