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ian-johan-gomez
ian-johan-gomez
American
there is something so comforting about the smokey smell of cigarettes saturating the soul first thing in the morning especially when it’s on his breath and he’s kissing your nightmares away
0
Aug 29, 2019
Aug 29, 2019 at 2:27 AM UTC
Safe Haven
I feel a grim satisfaction as mud splatters on my white shoes. What an appropriate metaphor for early adulthood. My problems are not my own. The sociological imagination has never seemed so applicable. We’ve all been dosed up On dashes of passion, splashes of intelligence and just enough anxiety and depression to approach existential nihilism and We’re fed these lies of individuality but We Know we are only products of our youth and culture, ones of many in the long production line We claim We are Art, but We Feel we’re just generated from streams of code, prepared to fight to the death for some algorithm that doesn’t even matter And so I protest I can’t just be a number I am flesh and blood, my knees are buckling under the weight of this artificial perfection. I’m not just a number, My eyes are staring at the the marks that determine my worth, knowing success is my only option i am not just a number My sanity is sinking and drowning and constantly fighting to stay afloat But I am not just a number. - My mind tells me I’m not making it-- How are these other people making it? I’m determining my worth on sets of standards that are as worthy as dust And it is with these standards i am told I am just a number. I feel like I can no longer speak because I’ve been shouting at the top of my lungs I AM NOT JUST A NUMBER But my voice is too quiet And the world is too loud. I’m so tired of trying to be heard. Yet these words still sound better when I scream them, not just scrawl them down on scraps of paper. for someone so happy I'm so very angry. for someone so happy I'm so very sad.
0
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 4:01 PM UTC
Stream of Consciousness
I feel a grim satisfaction as mud splatters on my white shoes. What an appropriate metaphor for early adulthood. My problems are not my own. The sociological imagination has never seemed so applicable. We’ve all been dosed up On dashes of passion, splashes of intelligence and just enough anxiety and depression to approach existential nihilism and We’re fed these lies of individuality but We Know we are only products of our youth and culture, ones of many in the long production line We claim We are Art, but We Feel we’re just generated from streams of code, prepared to fight to the death for some algorithm that doesn’t even matter And so I protest I can’t just be a number I am flesh and blood, my knees are buckling under the weight of this artificial perfection. I’m not just a number, My eyes are staring at the the marks that determine my worth, knowing success is my only option i am not just a number My sanity is sinking and drowning and constantly fighting to stay afloat But I am not just a number. - My mind tells me I’m not making it-- How are these other people making it? I’m determining my worth on sets of standards that are as worthy as dust And it is with these standards i am told I am just a number. I feel like I can no longer speak because I’ve been shouting at the top of my lungs I AM NOT JUST A NUMBER But my voice is too quiet And the world is too loud. I’m so tired of trying to be heard. Yet these words still sound better when I scream them, not just scrawl them down on scraps of paper. for someone so happy I'm so very angry. for someone so happy I'm so very sad.
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60
This is not a love story. When our eyes met And we felt that spark, That connection, We smiled. I did not go over and talk to you And you did not giggle At my poor attempts to be suave. You did not twirl your hair Or look down at the ground As I complimented your eyes. We did not strike up a conversation As we stood in line at the supermarket. You didn’t tell me the chicken and potatoes were a special treat for your little sister, And I didn’t admit that my top ramen was the only thing I could cook. I didn’t offer to carry your bag, And you didn’t give your number in return. I didn’t call you after the appropriate number of days. We didn’t go out for coffee And I didn’t get to hear your life story. I didn’t get to smile at your blush As you admitted you had a thing for Harrison Ford. I didn’t get a chance to smile and cheekily say that I did too. We didn’t have that first kiss, So clumsy and so awkward, Yet perfect. We didn’t go out on a second date, Or a third Or tenth, Or a hundredth. We didn’t go back to that coffee shop And I did not get down on one knee And get to hear you say yes. We didn’t bicker about wedding details I didn’t get to tell you that I hated red velvet And that it was impossible to get Ed Sheeran to play at our wedding. I didn’t feel my heart flutter as I waited at the alter And I didn’t get that high of seeing you in that white dress Smiling your shy smile. You didn’t walk down the aisle. There were no vows No declarations of love. We didn’t get to say I do. There was no wedding kiss No wedding dance No honeymoon. We didn’t buy a house. We didn’t name our first child Harrison. Times never got hard, And things never seemed close to breaking. We never fought. We never reconciled. Our children never went to college, And we never got grandkids of our own. We didn’t celebrate our 10th anniversary Or our 20th. Our 60th. I didn’t get to hold your hand As the doctor diagnosed Alzheimer’s. I didn’t take you to your plethora of doctor visits. You didn’t forget my name. You didn’t forget Harrison’s name. I never held your hand as you degraded right before me. I didn’t shed a tear as I heard your last breath And I didn’t kiss your forehead one last time before they took away. We didn’t have a wonderful life together. We didn’t have a life together. All because when I met your eyes at the grocery store In line with our chicken, potatoes, and top ramen, I didn’t take a chance. You went on your way and I went on mine. This is not a love story.
0
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 4:58 PM UTC
Love Story
This is not a love story. When our eyes met And we felt that spark, That connection, We smiled. I did not go over and talk to you And you did not giggle At my poor attempts to be suave. You did not twirl your hair Or look down at the ground As I complimented your eyes. We did not strike up a conversation As we stood in line at the supermarket. You didn’t tell me the chicken and potatoes were a special treat for your little sister, And I didn’t admit that my top ramen was the only thing I could cook. I didn’t offer to carry your bag, And you didn’t give your number in return. I didn’t call you after the appropriate number of days. We didn’t go out for coffee And I didn’t get to hear your life story. I didn’t get to smile at your blush As you admitted you had a thing for Harrison Ford. I didn’t get a chance to smile and cheekily say that I did too. We didn’t have that first kiss, So clumsy and so awkward, Yet perfect. We didn’t go out on a second date, Or a third Or tenth, Or a hundredth. We didn’t go back to that coffee shop And I did not get down on one knee And get to hear you say yes. We didn’t bicker about wedding details I didn’t get to tell you that I hated red velvet And that it was impossible to get Ed Sheeran to play at our wedding. I didn’t feel my heart flutter as I waited at the alter And I didn’t get that high of seeing you in that white dress Smiling your shy smile. You didn’t walk down the aisle. There were no vows No declarations of love. We didn’t get to say I do. There was no wedding kiss No wedding dance No honeymoon. We didn’t buy a house. We didn’t name our first child Harrison. Times never got hard, And things never seemed close to breaking. We never fought. We never reconciled. Our children never went to college, And we never got grandkids of our own. We didn’t celebrate our 10th anniversary Or our 20th. Our 60th. I didn’t get to hold your hand As the doctor diagnosed Alzheimer’s. I didn’t take you to your plethora of doctor visits. You didn’t forget my name. You didn’t forget Harrison’s name. I never held your hand as you degraded right before me. I didn’t shed a tear as I heard your last breath And I didn’t kiss your forehead one last time before they took away. We didn’t have a wonderful life together. We didn’t have a life together. All because when I met your eyes at the grocery store In line with our chicken, potatoes, and top ramen, I didn’t take a chance. You went on your way and I went on mine. This is not a love story.
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72
I lay on my back Close my eyes Let myself escape I feel the sharp edges of the grass poking my neck I know I'll have little cuts, but it'll be worth it. The sunlight caresses my face It's warm on my eyelids and I smile at its touch. Above me, the wind whistles through the trees Can you hear it? Whoosh, whoosh Like waves crashing on the beach. I feel myself start to float As I leave my body and find myself The part of me that I had lost so long ago. I’m greeted like an old friend and I start to reminisce about the past and all the joy I felt about the little things. Mud: The squelching noise between my fingers; how it was so cold and slightly gritty and gave me such satisfaction. Leather: The smell and how it reminds me of my days with my dad, when he saddled up his old horse and we'd go on an adventure. Watermelon: Homegrown On a hot summer day The sweetness As I bite into a slice. Letting the sticky juices coat my cheeks and admire the contrast between the fresh pink and cool green. Sunshine The warmth as it shines through my window On an early morning The sound of the meadow lark ringing in my ears is my alarm. I smile at these memories. I smile at my happy self. I let myself settle back into myself and gasp as the weight of the world pins me back to reality But I let myself stay a moment more. Soaking in the sunshine. Listening to the wind. Bearing the cuts and stains from the grass like scars from a battle barely won.
0
Feb 12, 2016
Feb 12, 2016 at 4:50 PM UTC
Battle Scars
It began with a kiss A simple meeting of our lips And I knew something was about to change. As I looked into your eyes You gave me butterflies And trapped my heart in your beautiful cage. With our passion and connection Our love and affection We were burning brighter than any flame. It was the time of our lives But for its eventual demise Neither of us was to blame. For good things always end And heartbreaks eventually mend Yet still my heart remains your slave. For I remember at the start When you stole my precious heart I knew I would never be the same.
0
Mar 13, 2014
Mar 13, 2014 at 8:36 PM UTC
The Same
I love the shining sun and warm air Lying on the grass with you staring at the sky The smooth sweet breeze blowing through our hair Imagining us with the clouds up high. Summer makes me happy and full of soul It is in summer and with you I feel truly free I no longer care when I lose control And laugh and smile uncontrollably. How I miss those simple summer days And the flutter of my heart under your warm gaze But that warmth is gone and the air is now cold Much like your sudden indifference, it chills me to the bone I am meek and sad now not brave and bold As I am forced to face these winter nights alone.
0
Oct 28, 2013
Oct 28, 2013 at 10:52 PM UTC
The End of Summer
Somehow the time just slips away And today becomes yesterday I just need to get away Stop everything and breathe. I feel myself wearing thin Always showing a fake grin Yet inside I’m caving in I’m stuck and I can’t breathe. I used to be so full of bliss How did things come to this? I’m drowning in the abyss All alone and I can’t breathe. I tell myself to hold on Just stay strong until the dawn Then all of this will be gone And I’ll be free to finally breathe.
0
Oct 23, 2013
Oct 23, 2013 at 10:54 PM UTC
Breathe
"Today is not my lucky day." The convicted man wanted to say But ready or not He died distraught And took his secret to the grave. "Today is not my lucky day." The convicted man's wife wanted to say She knew who the killer was But she was too afraid to say because Her promise to him she'd not she gave. "Today is not my lucky day." The guilty policeman wanted to say He knew that the man was not the one Even though he was caught holding the gun He knew the man he was trying to save. "Today is not my lucky day." The twin of the convict wanted to say As his brother died instead of him So he went to the police and turned himself in And though he felt ashamed, he also felt brave. "Today is not my lucky day." The mother of the brothers wanted to say As he buried her sons And when she was done She let herself drown in the ocean waves. That day was not a lucky day Which everyone kept wanting to say Instead they hid these feelings And dealt with life's dealings And if they hadn't who know who could have been saved.
0
Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 12:26 PM UTC
Today
When I see the flocks of birds Silhouetted against the sky Black against the blue I close my eyes and let myself drift away To a time when things were much simpler. When colours were richer and life was fuller A time when I was invincible. Now life is complicated; my soul is weary and my mind discontent Unhappy with the ways of the ways of the world. For it was the real world that robbed colour of its luster and appeal And made me a dim shadow of my past vibrant self. But I catch a glimpse of that happiness When I see those birds And remember the times I felt alive.
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Sep 9, 2013
Sep 9, 2013 at 12:06 PM UTC
Alive
When I think of forever I think of you Of my love unending, humble and true When I dream of forever I dream of you by my side Holding my hand until the end of time When I imagine forever it chills me to the bone To imagine spending forever alone I've been afraid for forever--or since the day we met Afraid of the feelings that I'm afraid to admit Because I'll love you forever--until the day I die I'll always be yours, though you'll never be mine And so my heart will forever be broken Because of these words I've never spoken I'll forever be your friend but never more And I'll never be who your forever was for.
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Sep 6, 2013
Sep 6, 2013 at 12:33 PM UTC
Forever