Mientras su cuerpo,
liso donde debe ser liso,
descansa sobre el mío,

y sus ojos,
usualmente café espeso,
se cierran,
cansados de días
tan aterradores,

mientras su respiración
sube y baja en mi pecho,

siento, señor,
hoy siento.

Y en este instante,
eso basta.

Sometimes
I give a hard look
At myself in the mirror,
My eyes gleaming with
Sadness that has followed
Me from down the road
And my hair all *******
So it doesn’t show how
Much it has grown

I tell myself
I want to be a poet,
Someone that writes
And moves and
Yell’s at you how gritty
Life has been lately.

But it hasn’t been all that gritty,
Or *****, or painful or-
Maybe it has.

Somewhere I read,
That a dead man
Loves the hardest,
That what only matters
Is how good you walk
Through the fire,
That let life not separate us,
And who cares about death?

I’ve come to hate and detest,
Those who hate,
But when will it be,
That I take upon
My shoulders to love.

And love is not
Like a gas stove,
But more of
A bonfire
That turns night
Into day.

So warm to the touch,
But so beautiful
To have when
It’s 1:00 am
On a cold front,
And god,
I just need
Another
cigarette.

Please,
Let me love
Again.

I’m begging.

Be it in death,
Or alive.

Be it awake
Or dreaming.

Be it through
the extinguished
Fire,
Which means
My walk hasn’t
been that great.

To the one,
That lights it
Again.

I am between
Dying and not dying.

I’m probably not
what you want.

Neither am I,
What you need.

But I will love,
The type of love
To move states,
To be alone
If it meant you
Would be coming
Through the door
Any minute now.

it will
Also be rumbling
And the ground will
Shake and
I won’t know how
To tell you how
Much I really love you.

But I will try,
I will try so hard.

To be all I am,
And all I am not.

They say death
Feels Peaceful,
Then it must feel
Like the shade
Of the branches
Of an old tree
Dancing with
The summer breeze,
Giving the sun
Enough space
To warm up
A specific spot
On my face.

I haven’t
experienced
That side
of death yet.

I’ve seen how
It hides
in the rot
Of the well
deserving,
Bringing peace
to those who
Yearn it.

I’ve seen
The cries
Of those
Who fear
It.

I sit
Underneath
The tree
Feeling
Peaceful today.

So
Maybe
Another
Day.

Me compre una
Cafetera de estufa,
Prendo y caliento,
Y me siento a
Esperar la chilllaera,
El olor corrumpe
Las cortinas y las
Toallas, abre neveras,
Y limpia migajas de
Pan en la mesa,
Pesado en las arrugas
Nuevas que crean
Valles en mi frente,
Mientras el color de tus ojos
Da vueltas en mi mente,
Invirtiendo en las noches
Donde te tuve en mis brazos,
Atadados entre sabanas,
Y tu , Arbol de ceiba que anclo
Sus raices en mis venas,
Las dejare correr y drenar
Hasta la ultima gota de sangre,
El vapor sube, yo subo con el,
Y me siento en la humedad
De las nubes, peleando con la
Culpa y rayos de sol.

Me siento a comer
después de un largo día.

Observo las mesas
mientras espero ordenar
lo de siempre.

Un hombre,
cabello *****,
piel un poco más oscura que la mía,
frunce el ceño.

Sujeta el tenedor
como un puñado,
lo golpea contra el plato
entre cada mordisco.
Los clacks resuenan,
irregulares, secos.

En la tele,
las noticias murmuran algo
sobre redadas, sobre cifras,
Aviones cayendo del
Cielo, aceite y alcohol.

Desvío la mirada.
Vuelvo a mirar.
Tres veces,
hasta que nuestros ojos
se encuentran.

¿Es odio lo que veo en ellos,
o quizás miedo?

Me pregunto,
¿Qué verá el en
Los míos?

I want to
go right
And pick
the perennial
flowers
That cover
what the eye
can see,
I’ve seen
the Fields
of Indian blankets
And spider lilies

I think
of myself
laying Down
and resting
my eyes
As the sunset
showers me
With color
and despair.

Today
I’ll go left
instead
To see
what waits
For me there.

How boring it must be
To be able to wake up in
The morning and do
What you need to do.

I will dance around
My kitchen table
As dishes pile up.

I will lay on my bedroom
Floor as the laundry
Screams that it needs
To be done,

I would go into the bathroom
If it wasn’t for the person
In the mirror that despises
Me so much.

Oh but when I get that spark,
That little moment of clarity,
time stops,

I become a fraud and can’t write
Poems anymore,
But the way my hands move
Around the dishes,
How fast the laundry walks itself.

It must be perfect to live
Like this forever,
But oh, how boring.

I think back
To those moments
Where you can grab
The rays of sunshine
That rarely come through
The clouds of a week
Of rain.

Or the blankets feel
Like the hugs of
A past lover,
Compassionate,
Like the ever haunting
Weight of the person
You truly loved.

And the night
Serves as a companion
As you gaze up
To the stars,
Wondering if they
Ever feel the need
To gaze back.

The skeleton of the trees
have gotten their color back,
The cats play among
The fallen leafs,
All while a hand grips
And holds tight unto
My chest.

I’m waiting for the night
To show it true colors,
So I can feel at peace,
And let go.

The earth is
Dying of old age
But if it’s me,
That dies first,
Hopefully I get
To enjoy what I’ve
Enjoyed in its
Presence.

The warm and tenderness
Of unconditional love,
Or the passion behind
Nerudas words,
swim in the transparency
Of the freezing rivers
That embark their journey
On the vertebrae of that
Shackled Island
That I used to call home.

If it’s me that dies first,
Don’t let those who
Speak my name see
What I have become,
Let them remember me
For who I was,
Hollowed eyes,
From restless nights,
The incoherencies
That I speak,
The laughs that
Surround me,
Echoing until
Eternity ain’t eternal
Anymore.

When it’s me that dies first,
Take me back
to where I was born
Bury me under the sapling
Of a flamboyán tree,
Love and care as much
Maybe more than you have,
Watch me reborn, grow,
Become magnificent
Dressed in orange reds
And greens.

Finally, carve unto me
The words that I’ve written,
watch me grow old
like I did life’s ago
And forget about me.

Hoy me desvanezco
entre las sombras
de un ayer.

He escrito tanto
que ya no sé
qué debo sentir.

Ya no lloro
como solía llorar,
pero amo aún
como solía amar.

¿Será crecer
el no sentir?
Entonces,
¿para qué crecer?

Sufrimiento inútil
que trae felicidad,
shots de dopamina
en botellitas de
cincuenta miligramos.

Qué pena vivir,
no sentir,
desaparecer.

Esperaré la primavera,
con petunias y rosas,
árboles de colores,
y un frío
que puedo soportar.

Pero qué pereza
esto de vivir
si no pudiera amar
ni sonreír.

Hoy salgo a las calles
a caminar,
me perderé en los ojos
de extraños,
ojos llenos de vida
y de potencial,

que han amado,
que han despreciado.

Y conectaré con quienes,
como yo,
también desaparecieron
en busca de su ser

Y no estoy
diciendo
que las cosas
van a
Ir mal
entre
nosotros,
pero si
algo llegara
a pasar
me encantaria
estar para
verte crecer.

Me monto en mi carro
Por la mil decima vez
Esta semana,
Para despejar la mente.

El trafico sube y baja
Como la marea,
Las luces son olas
Que rompen contra
La brea, bajo el volumen
De mi musica para
Poder escuchar
Los ruidos de la ciudad.

Y paso rodando
Por calles con
Nombres de presidentes
De aqui, peleando con
El sueño y la pena
Que se agarra de
Mi cuello y descansa
En mi espalda.

Y he limpiado el
Cuarto antes de salir,
Con las esperanzas
De que cuando
Vuelva pueda dormir,
Pero que dificil es sin ti.

So despejo mi mente,
Con una nota y una
Vuelta en un carro
Que ya se le esta acabando
El tiempo, y que muchas
Penas me agobian
Esta noche mi amor.

Preferiria estar arropado
En tu piel,
Despues de bañarme
En el lago de tus ojos,
Mientras me seco las
Manos bajando las
Sogas de tu pelo,
Para asi encontrarme
Entre tus venas,
Y ahogarme en tu alma,
Que desespera me espera.

A lo mejor asi,
Se aclarisan
Mis ojeras.

Es tanto,
Lo que eh callado,
Muchos espacios
Entre palabras
Que bajan
Las nubes a tus
Pies para
Acolchonar el
Piso que caminas,
Y con un bulto
De rayos de sol,
Camino para
Cuando tus dias
Caigan desvelados
Y la noche mucho
Más oscura de lo normal
Esconda tu sonrisa
Entre las sombras
Y la angustia
Abrirlo y alegrarte
Con la calor de
Un sábado
En donde las
Lluvias descansan
Y los pájaros cantan
Entre la gente
Libre de un día
Más de trabajo.

Inclinado en una tarde sombría,
Entre tinieblas y la falta de calor,
Te solté como un pájaro nocturno
Y te vi volar entre las primeras
Estrellas que centellan tú llegada
Como mi alma cuando la tocastes
Por primate vez Amor mío.

Y aunque fui yo quien te solté,
Eh ido marcando con antorchas
Tu llegada inesperada.

Tengo historias que contarte,
Comida para enseñarte,
Besos que regalarte,
Callados, delirantes
Se pierden en este pueblo
En donde te amaba.

Oh mi vida,
Entre el silencio que me arropa
Y la voz algo se va muriendo,
Algo de angustia y olvido,
Algo entre las nubes y las estrellas,
Algo como la caída de un árbol.

Sin embargo, mis cuerdas vocales
Se bañan entren estas palabras fugaces,
Algo canta entre señales de humo,
Gritar, cantar, huir entre hojas
Marchitas del invierno.

Tú estás aquí, tú no huyes,
Tú me responderás hasta el último grito,
Sin embargo, alguna vez vi como corría
La tristeza debajo de las olas de tus ojos,
Y mi todo, apenas quedan gotas temblando.

Y triste y fuerte amor mío,
Que haces de repente que no llegas?

It’s snowing.
The kids are outside,
laughing, building little moments,
As they cuddle the snow
In their hands,
mothers framing their joy
maybe it’s their first time
seeing snow in person.

For me, it’s only the second.
The first was barely snow,
more like ice
brushing concrete,
clinging briefly,
melting as if it knew
it didn’t belong,
Inevitable.

Back then,
a silhouette followed me,
a woman I loved.
Her eyes rested on my shoulders,
her steps trailing mine,
as I, spellbound by the ice and the cold,
ran wild across empty, frozen parking lots.

In another life,
I might have prayed,
might have begged,
Might have hoped
for that moment to stretch forever,
but my hands are hurting now,
and the snow is already melting.

I walk by the street,
Evading the lines
On the sidewalk,
I noticed a guy
Working on his car,
The same way I’ve noticed
Him for the past 3 days,
I jump over four leafs
Clovers and open
The doors to the
Corner store,
I grab my usual,
A watermelon
Arizona,
Then I walk up
To the counter
And ask for a
Pack of camels 99,
A look of glee
Reflecting on
The glass that
Protects the
Cashier,
I walk back outside,
The sun beaming
Bright yellow
Through rain
Clouds that are starting
To dissipate,
The same guy,
Now sleeping in his car,
I wonder,
Where will it
All take us?

I hope to stand,
a few years from now,
where I once stood
frowning,
growing old
and reliable,
able to walk
on my own two feet
without flinching
at the rot of memory.

I hope the wind
still carries a tune
and maybe the smell
Of jasmine,

And somehow,
some way,
I’ll see my reflection
not just in tinted windows,
or puddles that ripple
with passing cars
but in the steady gaze
of someone kind,
quiet,
willing to stay.

Maybe, just maybe,
I’ll be wise enough
to see myself
in the tired eyes
of a stranger,
or the half smile
of someone I used to be.

And I’ll sit beside him
on a park bench
or a broken curb
Or the bridge above
The high way
Glaring at headlights,
and tell him

everything will be okay.
Not perfect.
Not painless.
But okay.

Across the street
From where I’m sitting on
An older blonde lady
Cries her eyes out,
Her friend or girlfriend or wife
Consoles her, making her laugh
In between tears.

I wonder what keeps
Them up at night

They won’t remember
this moment ,
Not because it’s not special
But because she seems so
Good at making her
Happy, even though
She was just
Crying herself
A puddle underneath
Her feet.

This was not
The first time.

I think to myself
I should have made her laugh
As thoughts of yesterday
Run through her mind
Ease the pain that can’t be
Eased with paper towels
And ice packs

The sky is getting darker
It looks like it’s about to rain
I should tell them to run
Back inside.

I wouldn’t want it
To ruin their night.

I started to notice the walls
In my room again,
Empty,
Painted in white,
I wonder if peace lilies
Would compliment
The agony and anguish,
Or if I sit in the middle
Of the room,
As quiet and still
As a Lotus flower,
Delirious and vacant,
Will thoughts of letting go
Pass through my nervous
system and out of my body,
I look at my finger nails,
They have come from a
Place of war and anger
And love and trials,
Where would I be with them?

I can be a really skeptical person,
I don’t believe in ghost, and just think of weird things that happen as coincidences,

But, as flower petals magically float down toward my passenger seat, just before I close my car door.

I felt chills, as if memories from past lives rushed through my skin like electricity when you touch a Walmart cart.

Instant, waiting for a reaction.

And if that isn’t one hell of a metaphor,
I don’t know what is.

I stare out my window,
Waiting for you my love,
Trying so hard to stand still,
So you recognize me
Even if I’ve grown old and wrinkled,
And my dear, please don’t cry,
As my flowers by my window wilt
Call 911 they need some help.

Please, Please don’t let them die.
Since you left,They have been my only friend
Since you left, they learned to love me
Since you left I’ve grown to love my flowers,  maybe It was wiser For them to wilt before me,
They loved me more than I loved them.

They couldn’t handle the pain of seeing me
Pass away by my window,
Waiting for you.

On a cold Thursday morning,
I sit outside, bundled up
in layers upon layers,
battling the weather.

Forty degrees is a heavy burden
for a man raised under an island sun,
beside hibiscus and ixoras.

It eats at my hands,
and feathers my nose.

What a blessing
to feel,
to be alive.

Oh, but what a curse.

When you go chase after your truest desires
and feel places where there wasn't a fire before burning,
In a rage of passion,
as hot as the sun and the stars,
as bright as dawn,
and the night doesn't symbolize
sadness and depression anymore ,
and the moon isn't loneliness,
and the stars aren't laughing at me,
from above
the place they rest,

And like that
begin to transform the magic
you emit
into a breath of my soul,

breathing again,
water becomes oxygen,
i'm not drowning
in the depths of myself
Anymore.

Thanks to you,
My Love.

Of course you’ll
miss them,
And songs
will remind you
Of them,
and the color  of
A strangers eyes,
and the pattern
The shadows
create while
You are on shrooms,
You were happy once,
Under incoming fire
And quarantine, in
The sky or on boat,
Undressed, and that’s
Not a pretty sight,
But they loved it,
They loved you,
And that’s not
Easy to forget.

The way your eyes glisten
when you smile,
Remind me of the white
sand back home,
Warm to the touch,
getting washed ashore
With the reminder of foam
and one more night.

The sea rocks itself to sleep
while you talk,
Even in times of storm
you would give me peace,
The sun comes up
and comes down when you
Say the word
and can’t seem to keep up with
The way your lips curl.

The way you walk,
the way you think.
God, if there’s a god
he must have been proud
Of making you.

The sea will come for me,
drown me underneath
the weight,
tell me that
what I’m feeling is wrong
But how can I be wrong
when all of that stops when you talk.

I can’t keep up with you,
and I probably never will.
But if you gave the word,
if you told me you needed
me for a moment
I would miss an airplane
to be there for
you.

Even if I’ve seen this everywhere,
in movies
in books,
in songs.

I will never get to love you
how I want
to love
you.

And it’ll always be my fault.

I wish i could pass out
in your arms
and
wake up in your bed.

Wake up, smoke a bowl
and go back to sleep
on your sun kissed skin,
so warm to the touch.
Getting warmer as my fingers
lay thoughts and trails down your hair.

Lay on your chest
and let my hands wrap
around you,
trace the mountain range
that runs down your back.

And for one last time,
Make you happy.

I walk behind empty gas stations
And broken windows,
My palms sweaty from the heat,
I think of the polar caps
Slowly melting away.

I open the door to my apartment,
I sit down on my leather couch,
My hands are no longer sweaty
But, I am still sad.

The adrenaline rush fades,
leaving me dangling,
empty handed,
clutching nothing but
bloodied words.

What will become of me?
I thought I was ready
but when will it be enough?
How many lessons,
how much pain
must I endure?

God, I don’t
**** with you anymore.
All you know
is tough love.

When will it
finally
be enough?

What a long week,
A long month, a long year,
Followed by long hours,
And long seconds.

I’ve resorted to selling
All my distractions
And hell, was I distracted.

Now I sit in diners,
Drinking coffee
After a long night.

My pockets are empty,
But my soul keeps growing.
He’s starting to receive
Hand-me-downs from the public,
A new kind of love.

And I’m slowly
Finding myself.

I’m sitting in my car
Chain smoking,
It’s raining hard,
Rivers run through
The side walk
Making it a little cleaner,
Waterfalls rush down
The roof tiles,
The sound of it
hitting the ground
As thought inducing
As the nicotine
My body keeps
Asking for.

Thoughts of Her
Paint me a pretty picture.

She loved my writing,
She read all of it,
The love I had for Her
Could be felt
Through the screen,
Through the paper,
Even Through my lips
Whenever I had the courage
To tell Her.

I could see it in Her skin,
My words marching
With bayonets and
Strikingly bright
Torches that lit up
The whole room,
My hands rightfully  
Followed,
Climbing up Her legs,
Up and down Her hips,
Moving up Her back.

In days like these
The rain would be
The least of our
Problems.

It would be how much
I wanted Her..

And how much
She wanted me.

In the quiet of night,
I’ll sit near the amber
Scented candle,
I’ll stretch my hand
Over the flame that
Sits on top like a bee
Peacefully sleeping
On the petal of
A sunflower,
I’ll stir it up,
Let it sting
Until the night
Not so quiet anymore
Blows out the flame,
Seeing it dance before
It becomes absence
And pollen.

Please gods, help me get up
Today it’s one of those days
When I just want to lay all day
Hide in between the sheets
Fight monsters in my dreams
They are nicer.

I believe there’s good things,
I believe in breathtaking moments,
I believe in the times
where the stars look just right,
I believe there’s good in people,
Even if the bad stands out,

I believe there’s bad things,
I believe in nights
where it’s a little too dark,
I believe there’s times where
You believe you are playing chess
With life, and suddenly,
there’s no one playing with you,
And check mate seems to be 2 moves away

I believe that with happiness, comes sadness.
I believe that with rage, comes peace.
I believe that with lies, comes the truth.

I sit here with a moving clock
to my left waiting to be stopped,
waiting for life to sit down,
and finish what it started.

I believe in Good and bad,
I believe there’s a beginning,
But I’m scared there’s no end.

I'm here sitting
alone,
the smell of coffee runs through
my veins,
some music i probably will forget
in a few years arguing with
the thought of you,

But I'm here,
I'm here,
writing about what's happening

pretty boring huh?

i call myself a poet
but i can't use high metaphors,

i call myself a poet
but i can't describe fully
how you make me feel

i call myself a poet

but what am i?

I'm just a kid
scared of life
finding new ways to cope
searching for someone to love,
desperate,
not holding unto my dreams
how can i choose with my mind
what's right for the heart to choose.

and you see?
don't you see?

don't worry i can't either

i can't see how great i am
i can't see how other people see me
i wish i could.

i want to believe this was a dream
or
a nightmare at that.

But at last.
I'm here wishing that in another life
i could be with you,
or
maybe in other deaths,

i crave your touch,
i crave you..
with coffee waking up my senses
like a kid in summer waking up early
to go play with his friends.

i wish things were different,
so i wouldn't have to wish.

Lately it feels wrong to write,
It feels like there’s not enough time
For what I’m trying to do,
For what I’m trying to say,

I feel trapped in a room
That recollects memories
Like a homeless man
Collects pennies and dimes
And blesses the people who
Give it to him.

Instead I get summer rains,
Days passing by,
A roof over my head,
And maybe, just maybe,
I’ll get blessed with a wonderful day
Where nothing matters,
Not even the rain,
Nor these invasive thoughts
That go knocking at my door.

I open the door to say hi,
They always lead with smiles
And open arms,
This time they tell me to let my car deform itself around a tree,
To hug it and never let it go.

But it’s one of those days I don’t care
About what they say,
So they left leaving a little pamphlet behind.

Home,
My soul
outside
my body
People step
back when
you talk
Flowers bloom
when you smile
The sun comes
up when you
open your eyes
As you walk,
someone walks
away without
You leaving
their gaze.

And as
summer
rains start
to fall
The clouds
howl in despair,
The stars tremble
in fear and
The moon whispers
into my ear
pass laments

“I can’t cry anymore”
I tell the moon,
“I just want to die”

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.

I see myself
Tumbling down
The hill once more,
The grass scratches
My back and arms
rocks cover themselves
As I come rolling
Past them,
Hitting every last one,
I cry and plead
for forgiveness,
I ask god for time
And time again
I ask for a glimpse
Of the garden
On the other side,
I bury my nails
Into the skin of the earth
I crawl past the rain,
I crawl past the heat,
The undying days
And remorseful nights,
my heart starts to pound
As the smell of jasmines
Mists down the peak,
The ground crumbles.
And I see myself
tumbling down
To silence once again.

i'm on my way
towards thinking of you

As I start to notice that
The smell of the flowers

That cover the fields
Have found their way

Into my car,
It lays in my passenger seat,

Feet on the dashboard
All while enjoying

The music that
Shuffles through

The speakers,
I focus on the road ahead,

But every once in while,
I get distracted by

The greenery of the
Mountain range that sits

Idle on the horizon,
Cold coffee

And cigarettes fill
My stomach,

I flinch and check
The back seat

Where my heart sits,
Buckled up so

It doesn’t fly out
The open windows

A sigh of relief leaves
My body and into

The atmosphere,
Turning the day into night,

Giving me a new scenery,
With bright blue stars

That shine their light
Upon the street,

Showing me the way,
Suddenly a welcome to

Sign with your name on
It materializes in front

Of the head lights,
I stop at the next

Gas station,
I look up to

The spotlight that keeps
The shadows away,

And I wonder how
Bad can it actually be

To be happy.

“It’s in the water”
They say,
“It’s in the cigarettes”
The yell,
“It’s in the food”
They proclaim.

Only if they knew,
That the earth
Sings a tune
That tells my feet
To move.
And that it’s
Truly in the everlasting
Silence that accompanies it.

When I used to think
About my dad,
Not much came up,
But I remember
Getting excited,
Every time my mom
Picked up the phone
And it was my him,
On the other line,
Asking when he
Can pick me up,
Scheming for
A good time

It felt almost like
A school trip,
On those yellow
Trucks without
Ac but a stereo
System that would
Shake the windows
Of the new houses
I get to see.

Always an adventure,
Always something new
To experience,
Always good.

It’s as if the bad
Was concealed
Behind the curtain
That just closed up
The actors of a
Very corny drama,

It was hard to come
To him in times of need,
Always working,
Always busy,
Always in love,
Always living a life,

But lately,
He has been helping
Me kick stones out
Of my path.

“Necesitas algo”

“Estás bien mi niño””

“Si tú eres mi hijo,
Esto es lo que va pasar”

If you are my son,
He says.

I fall down from exhaustion,
And accept his apology.

I’m laying
Down on
A mount
Of Asian
Jasmines,
Then suddenly,
I was floating
in space,
But somehow,
In some way,
My lungs inflated,
And I exhaled
What I had
Left of life
Into the stars,
The cosmos
Held me
In their arms,
An embrace
Very needed
Yesterday’s ago,
I sink deep
Into the feeling
Of being loved,
And I cry
My soul
Out back
Into the living,
My bones
Root into
Empty space,
A never ending
Search for soil,
So lost,
In search,
Always in search,
this just
Doesn’t seem
Like a place
To rest.

As I stand
in the rain,
droplets
of water
play and
roll down
my fingers
and into
the ground,
I feel like
A stray cat,
A runt
Abandoned
By his mother,
Or like a fish
In less water,
I flop on the
Concrete
And catch
My breath
In between
Droplets.

I don’t know
what I want
In 5 years,
Or what I
Want for
Next year,
In 5 years I’ll
Be 29,
So close to 30
I don’t know if
I want to make it
To 30,
But if I do I just wish
For me to be happy.