I hope i get out alive again.

I've done it multiple times,
this isn't a first.

But still,
I hope.

I’ve been so down lately
that when I wake
to face the sun again,
I pray for rain
clouds to keep me company
in this sickness.

And what a privileged sickness it is.
People are starving,
others bleed from iron
their bodies don’t need.
A century or two ago,
even an aching stomach
was a reason to fear.

Yet no cure exists for this.
Not the sunrise,
not the long awaited bloom
of Chinese fringe trees,
not the scent of fresh baked bread.

I fear early mornings,
losing my hours,
my eyes, my face.

Some tell me to accept
the possibility of God,
but I’d rather wake
to a beautiful woman by my side.

It’s sad, and not sad.

And suddenly, it’s night again.
She succumbs to slumber.
Maybe I can too.

I miss you,
on afternoons after long days,
new calluses forming
from gripping buckets,
on endless drives
where my eyes fight sleep.

Where are you,
my love,
that I don’t see you
or feel you
resting on my chest,
your bare knee
tucked between mine?

Morena,
beautiful girl who loves with her eyes,
roses pressed into every kiss,
I miss them,
every morning I wake
with only dawn to keep me company.

Kiss me, pretty girl,
tangled in a sea of sheets.
Kiss me now,
and later,
on lonely mornings
and quiet afternoons.

Do it now,
as the air fills with pollen,
as spring unravels red buds
one by one.

The pecan trees know
the cold won’t return.

So let me hold you,
my aching hands wrapped around you,
for as long as you are here.

It’s a sunny day,
I watch you
Slip through
My fingers
As I dip my hands
Into you,
Smoke dangling
From my lips
Like scars.

Tell me,
My love,
My new love,
My new found love,
Will I lose you too?

The tide pulls back,
a quiet thief,
stealing footprints
before I can trace them twice.

Tell me,
is love always like this?
A flicker in the dark,
a matchstick kiss,
a fleeting warmth
Tired and soulful eyes.

Or will you stay,
linger like salt on skin
like a song I whistle,
long after the music fades.

My body is broken
But doesn't really matter
How badly beat up I get
My soul still wants
To pick a fight

I guess us fighters
Are just made like that
We never really know
When and how to quit
We're too **** tough
For our own good

We just want that fire
So we keep pushing
On and forward
Forward and on

En la isla donde el viento
canta al mar.  
Vive un hombre de ojos que
al sol saben brillar.  
Marrones como la tierra
cálidos como el sol.  
Sus miradas son refugio, su
alma es un farol.  

Es un hombre de belleza que
toca el corazón,
Su voz es una balada, mi
más dulce canción.  
Con una bondad infinita que
en su ser florece.  
Un alma pura que al amor
enciende y enriquece.  

Cada gesto,
cada palabra,
cada dulce sonrisa,
Es la paz que mi alma
por fin eterniza.  
Y aunque él da amor sin
pedir nada a cambio.  
Sé que su alma necesita lo
mismo, en su mágico encanto.  

En sus ojos veo el cielo, la
luna y el mar.  
Y en su alma encuentro todo
lo que quiero amar.  
Hombre de la isla con tu
amor me elevo.  
Porque en tu dulzura, mi
mundo yo hallo,
y lo llevo.  

Te amo con la fuerza del
viento al mar,
Con la pasión del sol que
nunca deja de brillar.  
Y en este amor que juntos
construimos,
Te doy mi corazón.  
Porque en ti vivimos.

I used to pray at night,
before bed,
to wake to another morning,
to be spared from the evil
that roams this earth.

I was raised on Catholic morals,
grew into this body
with their weight on my shoulders.

The golden rule only applies
to those who apply it,
morality blurred in the unexpected,
lost between who’s right
and who’s wrong.

the mornings
keep getting longer.