Breathe in some gasoline
As I fly down to greet
Trade my butterfly wings
For a touch of machine
Take my evergreen
Get some new gleam
Your noxious fume spoil
Find some Asfalt sheen
My freedom I trade
For rusted shackles you see
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 10:33 PM UTC
This letter is truly and doubtlessly a letter to the only person who will be left when everyone else is gone. To the woman of my life. To my love, my life, my everything. To me.
Dear me,
You, the way you are, are perfect. You, with your little struggles you bear, with all the strength you carry so desperately around, finding a way to use it in your everyday life. You, with all your words stuck in your throat that you are so scared to say out loud – so you write them down.
You, with your smart-ass-mouth trying to make this world a better place. You, who has already realized that you must better yourself first to better others. You are all through perfect in your own way.
And yes, times were tough back then, but you were tougher. You mastered to overcome your biggest fear – the fear to stand for what you want and to love yourself entirely.
And even though, your selflove has improved so much over these past few years, you must learn a lot, you will have to endure a lot of pain and gain a lot of strength.
Selflove is a lifetime process.
My wonderful, beautiful love,
You carry mountains on your back and universes in your mind.
And every single day you wake up you are a better version of yourself.
Whatever you wish to do – do so! This is your life and you have to hold the upper hand in it. You have to be your own master.
Yes, let life be taught by others. Watch them live, but never become someone else while observing.
God did his best in making you special and unique – do not destroy his work of art in imitating.
Learn.
Observe.
Master.
Once you can rely on yourself, you are ready to change the world.
The world is waiting for you to make it the place it deserves to be.
A good place, a place with no fear, with no terror.
A place people can feel secure and loved.
Make this not only a vision but the reality.
Do your best and whatever you have reached at the end of the day – you DID your best.
You were great, and you could not have done any better.
I am proud of you.
And I love you.
To the dearest, most beautiful person on this planet, me.
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 11:53 AM UTC
Some people make me think of colors
A hue for everyone
Some just ooze it
In the way they talk
And laugh
And walk
When they’re happy,
They turn brighter
And glow
When they’re sad,
They dim
And fade
But no matter their mood
Or state of mind,
Everyone paints whatever room they’re in
With their beautiful colors
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 11:52 AM UTC
They say that love is between a man and a woman.
That the racing hearts and soft whispers are to be between that of a man and a woman.
Yet when I look at her, my heart races and my mind fogs.
They say it is wrong to love that of the same ***
That the soft touches and moans of pleasure should be shared between a woman and a man.
But when her mouth meets mine and my hands find her hair, I can't help but think that they are the ones that are wrong, not this.
Because this,
Her mouth on mine,
Our bodies flush against each other,
The look in her eyes,
Is love.
The soft whispered words and racing hearts is now something that both she and I share.
And when her body slots perfectly with mine
And her eyes show that there is nowhere else she would rather be,
I know that this is love.
The way my breath hitches
And my heart races
And her soft gaze is all I can seem to focus on,
I know that this is love.
And if this is what love is,
If this is what it really feels like,
It will never be wrong.
This is love.
Feb 9, 2018
Feb 9, 2018 at 11:51 AM UTC
i'm telling you.
the clouds were meant for the ground.
but they hung themselves.
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 12:46 PM UTC
i used to think myself immortal.
see, i grew up spanish next to english
and the only nouns left genderless
were ones i didn't know to say.
so i'd look at empty sky
(not el cielo, not with nothing to hold)
and tell my friends it was me up there.
you: imagine the god-named planetas.
i was the backdrop to their orbits,
not bound to el fondo, but more than words.
now i know el abismo is beyond me
but the only genderless thing i knew
was so deep i'd drown just looking.
now i know the word agender
but remember:
before i was this
i was infinite.
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 12:35 PM UTC
Freshmen year
I was involved in a play
About women in the 1920's
Who were paid to paint watch dial numbers
And hands
With green-glowing,
Radioactive paint.
The point of doing this
Being so soldiers could see their watches at night
Without giving away their position.
However,
After years of exposure to the radium,
The women themselves began glowing
And forming cancers in the deepest recesses
Of their young and tender bodies.
Before the horrors began,
The women had taken a trip to the beach
Where they ate sandwiches
And talked about the things that shined
In their lives.
And between the Rudolph Valentino's
And pearl necklaces
In the windows of department stores,
I believe they could also list you
Among the beautiful things they had
In spite of all the danger.
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 12:33 PM UTC
I hate girls with irises like
the shade that encompasses the heavens above
directly after a ravaging storm
one that beats like a drum on the drums of our ears
threatening to take away our ability to hear that beat
but never once threatening to disallow us the feeling
I hate girls with laughs like
the sweet notes that Wolfgang coaxed
from a line of slender white bars
to carry them onto thickly drawn black bars on parchment
so as to force them into his service; though they never once
dared do anything but sing, not a single time daring to
utter a flat or sharp twang
I hate girls with charm so
alluring that it crawls into my nervous system
exquisitely, beautifully sating
so absolute, so concrete, so stinging
so fantastically intoxicating
and so irrevocably bestowed
that they are all I can write my words about
Feb 7, 2018
Feb 7, 2018 at 11:53 AM UTC
sometimes
my
brain
doesn’t
work
right
and
my
thoughts
scatter
like
beads
spilled
on
tile
floor
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 9:58 PM UTC
What if dying isn't death
If when we leave this world…
The weight of it is simply off our chest
When we take that final breath
We live the most memorable of moments all over again
But this time…
We’re at our best
What if only the best of memories replay
All the sadness,
The shame,
The madness
The blame and the anguish…
What if they’re cast away
What if it's like waking up to not just another day
If only the happiness is the feeling that stays
What if…
Death is truly the end of all pain
If love is all we retain
What if…
The night sky…
And all the stars from above
Is all that remains
But...
I’m wondering about those stars
They too some day die
So…
What if we’re like stars…
We only shine bright when alive
Just a small light in a vast world that one day burns out…
What if the weight of the world’s what living life’s all about
All the people,
The places,
The sorrow and joyous filled faces…
Each of our books of life and their;
Some better,
Some worse but…
Still lively filled pages…
Are what leaves those we leave behind with heartbreak and…
Sorrow filled grievance…
What if our memory is truly all that's left when we pass into the unknown
An empty bed in a place we once called our home
A place where in our old age we had grown…
What if our lasting legacy is only the moments in which we shared an experience
If...
The wisdom,
The kindness,
And the hard work filled progress…
Is all we leave behind
If we only leave what we project into those empty filled spaces
In our loved ones' hearts and loved ones' minds…
I wonder what I'll see when I'm staring up at the ceiling or sky…
Somewhere down the line…
Life hanging by a thread
Watching the story of my life as it flashes by...
Will there be regrets,
Goals never met,
Things never said,
Thoughts trapped in my head…
Or...
Will I be able to say
I did all that I could
Willing to die without needing to lie…
T o m y s e l f
What if…
The money we made
The status we gained
The list of the people we blame
For the shame on our name…
If none of that ever really matters when our…
Book of life comes to an end…
What if
It was only ever about the mark on everyone's hearts we ingrained
If like stars we burn out but…
Just burn out much faster
The difference for us is…
No tomorrow can be guaranteed
If...
This life…
Was the only book you could write
If tomorrow was your final chapter…
Can you say your book of life was the best it could be
Like only the greatest of books
When they end...
They leave the world with sadness and grief
With…
Wonderment and pure disbelief
If your life was the best it could be
Can you close your eyes
Fall into that endless sleep
Feel your heart's final beat
Come to a close as you cease to breath
And go satisfied…
K n o w i n g y o u r b o o k o f l i f e ' s w o r t h t h e r e a d
Feb 6, 2018
Feb 6, 2018 at 9:49 PM UTC