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Alex Salazar Aug 2018
Your name,
a trap set under a pile of leaves.

Your words,
a sweet decoction of rythmic phrases
a cozy hug over the coolness of a damp night
An indelible kiss on the cheek

Your smile,
a rush of wind never to be contained
a complete stillness of  life
an invocation of instant gratitude
a parade of contentment,
melting my heart

eyes burn
fingers shake
the end of the world
is lit in a red hue
Alex Salazar Aug 2018
Small prayers muttered in discreet whispers,
are softly spoken inquietudes said in reverse.
It's the Cynic, the pathological saint
sliding into my thoughts.
come anew and ready to live again.
my mind lacks any real estate to be reminded of any  once past reflection.
memory has failed me,
and thorns have surrounded me.
And here is where i've found myself.

sunken, defeated by nihilism
left alone with a beacon
a new friend,
with a new tune
whistling attraction.
packaging fight,
telling stories of grandeur
saying bloom,
like a flower, bloom
like two lovers roosting in on each others noses;
celebrate the end of a road
and the beginning of a new one.
Alex Salazar Aug 2018
Restore me,
those words are stones
dropped into a lake of voices.

Rippling,
The loudest of them,
repeat ad nauseam.

In this nexus,
i am the oppressed.
Jackals swim concatenating the worst of thoughts,
plotting tomorrow’s coup d'é tat.

My proclivity, to take the wheel
Invariably pulls me under.
Here in this place I am greased like Atlas
Punished to become the choices I’ve made
And for that I’m grateful.
Alex Salazar May 2018
I'm afraid.
I don't make a point to accommodate it.
But it's here,
Seeking composition.
Gripping my nerves and taking them out for a spin.

When it's contextualized,
And becomes the loudest voice.
When it's partnered up with doubt,
And becomes compound.
When it's anointed a constable,
Whom whispers disinformation.
When it presses anxiety,
And plays cowardice.
When thoughts turn into patterns,
And my hubris dwarfs enough to fit inside a paper cup.
When  my center becomes a deafening storm of pain.
And hiccups of rage fill my hands.

I am made to remember fragility,
my sanity  is a pebble Loose on a river’s stream
gently flowing into the arms of vulnerability.
Ad infinitum
Alex Salazar Apr 2018
Climbing inside is ritual.
I build myself in this place
discussions are curated,
decisions are made and I  connect all the veins.

I invite all my wolves (emotions) inside,
and make pelts out of them.
Gloriously i let them cover my body,
It is then that I become the supreme oppressor.
A GOD dressed in thicker skin,
making whole hearted claims to peace and sovereignty.

In Victory I am made cold,
perverted, I am quick to lose sight.
the path back breaks me anew
And my predilection for all things soothed,
Makes me  climb back
Into the crucible I crawl
Seeking a better man.
Alex Salazar Apr 2018
The truth is there is no center
no alignment of spirit & body
just a vehicle  full of bubbles(thoughts).
Apologies in advance
a bubble pops and with it our sense of free will.

we Carry us
through disappointment
we Carry us
through the frigid harbors of loneliness
we Carry us
and find the strength to bury the depression that amassed over this past winter solstice

oh my heart, heavy as a stone
there it goes, bleeding all alone
i hold it up high
wondering
if today will be the day i die
knowing
that i won't

As a master of my own domain
the fire in my gut burns heavy with flames

We Carry us
With the love of life, buried deep inside of us.
Alex Salazar Dec 2017
The path back is lost.
In all candor, it's my own behavior that i abhor.
This troubling state, this drunk inertia.
Is no commodity that deserves praise.

For a troubled man, full of sores
will end up crying alone.
many thanks to my bedroom ceiling, and the fractals that play in between a quick intermission.

Repulsive, obtuse, pompous, deaf, dumb, sweetheart,
ill set  a candle for you
i swear, i swear, i swear
i  accept you (myself).
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