Numbness coats my skin
it coats my eyes
my mouth, my brain, my legs
I can barely move
nor do i want to
dumbbells are on top of each shoulder blades
they hung down on my cheeks
they become the shirts I wear
my shoes...
my eyelids
Tired
I'm waiting to be set free from these chains
these awkward chains
and people stare at me
question why I put my head down in long silence
help me, no don't
I'll be okay
I let the dumbbells drag me to the ground
Let me add on its process
I don't want to be here no more
don't want to see the world around me
don't want to feel the touch of predetermine passions
there is nothing but numbness and weight
But what about the light?
who cares, I rather die
then wait

They only come when I'm exhausted
Existing until I blink
and when I try to bring one out
It makes my stomach sick

The One with the Timberland Boots
Those gigantic feet
Which I peek
Was close to mine
Though I had to sneak

The stench of my odor
Coming from my ***
Was making me
Insecure very fast

But luckily the stalls divide us
Our bowels and touch
And all things that blind us
Except for the smell
Of course that was true
But with our smells combine
There was nothing coming through

Between us…

The love that we made
That came from pain
Has thus began to fade away
Including me who had to go

But I will never forget
The Timberland Boots
Who sat near me in company
Throwing my insecurities off the roof

How can I rid my existence?
Should I blind myself          
so that my brain can rot in darkness
or maybe with a hand knife
silently scraping the nerves on my skin
like  dead potato skins
duck taped
and tears streaming down my dented cheeks

Maybe I should plunge myself into a Coma
and put myself in a dream where I can be in servitude for my transgressions

Should I cut my ***** off
for when I *******
all that comes out is lifeless *****
awaiting for a burial ground?

Maybe I should take my soft soul
into the palms of my hands
crush it with all my might
so that I will never be reincarnated again

The immortal soul reviving existence
by using the existence of others

Why should I let this little soul survive
who doesn't share its own existence with others?

What a terrible waste
a waste indeed

Lost
Where am I in this alley?
Whose dark and rough walls give the sky
A daunting blue?

The maze I’m in
Whose walls are dense
Are not denser than the cement in my head
Constantly pulling me down
Kneeling
Searching through the alleys
Blindly
To find the exit…
A exit
But where?

My hands touching the grainy ground
Made them appear like the talons of a vulture
Use to attack an invisible force I am not able to overcome

The only thing that can resist
Is the multitude tears which gently landed on the floor and splattered

Fast it went and formed one single line
Towards the exit

I collapse trying to grasp the stream of tears

My head streaming in and out of consciousness
I wonder
Who will reach the exist first?

Get the **** out of my face!
you fucken toad
making me have anorexia
so hungry that the only thing my body can digest
is my happiness
but still my love for you is strong
all because I'm so scared to see your face
because I know that if you smile again
our fates will be sealed

Chapped Lips
The cracked skin on my lips
Represents the crack on my heart
About to break in tiny pieces

The more I smile
The more my lips stretch
The more my heart breaks

But dare I let my lips falls part?
Dare I put lip balm on?
To ease the pain
To cease the blood…?

The Lips overflowed with blood
Like a fountain
And with a splash from the wings of a bird
Gallons flown over my chin
Formed  droplets
And stain my shirt

But the smile stays
But not the heart
The heart is shallow
There’s no more blood to keep it pumping
Just a fragile glass
See through it is
   But its crack near the top left is hard to see…

Drip
Drip
Let it drip
rain droplets
that stings my face
and flows across my sullen face

my eyebrows drench
my lips moist
my eyes surrounded by water
where the cornea of my eye became a pool

those same wet eyes looking to the heavenly skies of charcoal
blocked by branches full of red berries
red dots in the sky
Like an insane painting

I vigorously wave my hands to the sky
trying to rid the blood
like a car's windshield, stained by someones brain organs
spaghetti and tomato sauce
the blotches of red from the sky fell
like greasy bullets

Gravity increased its accelerating
piercing my skin
infected piercings, my skin turn green

one sour green berry slowly fell into my mouth
Now I'm finally free.

I don't know what to do
I try to escape
but I am imprison in hate
and although I submit
all they do to me
is spit

when i cry
all by myself to call for help
I begin to drown
and loose my light

"my light" I exclaimed. Thats what I need
I try to reach the sun but all it does it scream!

"Go away!" it said You do not deserve
But why does it not give me the confidence I need
in order to utilize its light
and spread to all who plead?

Betrayal I felt is only left now
dark and light I had neither crowned
I tried to reach inside for help
but both sides oppress me without a doubt

what do you do when you're oppressed
by the evilest of witches and the saints of pests?
do you just submit and hope the best?
And let your fate just slit your neck?

Rats Dropping Like Flies
I eventually encountered one
A crime scene it was
Its sulfuric acid smell of hell was overpowering me
Making me numb

And I saw the maggots
Crawling for a place called home
Although they made a home which was never secured

There was no funeral for the rat
He was just thrown in the trash
It was ******
Destroyed by poison
Its mouth was open
As though calling for help

Nobody wept
For the fear of being victimized

But a close friend of my died
Should I weep or should I have thrown the remorse in the trash?

I didn't hesitate
For in this world
A rat is just a rat

When I wash my dishes
I wonder if it will crack
the extremities of hot water mixed with lead
steaming its skin
making it dry and wet at the same time

When I put my wet plate in the air
the water dripping from its surface
I wonder if it will become my heart
the red moon
that will drip with blood
staining the floor
consistent, but flexible

When I put my dishes away
I wonder if
the dishes dry due to their exhausted fear
from being touch
for indulgence
and thoes plates that crack
finally becomes tolerant...

Purity
it portrays
it imitates
But at the same time
it clouds its own image

"Clean" it says
"Kind" it says
"Holy" it says

Then tell me why
it attracts electrons
who all have the same sinful lust for
it?

Maybe those neutron
dead and lifeless
and Heavy
can they tell the whole story

A cloud
such a thing only lives in the imaginary
in
the
SKY

Where rain comes from,
and those metallic flying objects
that roams the sky
never
touches the ground

The ground soak with rain droplets
mix with pollution
I felt under my feet

makes my skin tingles
no angry
no berserk

The skin wanted to rip itself
inside out
into tiny pieces
like rain droplets
the imaginary
the cloud

At least it has a chance to rise
but my soul
was cemented on the ground
polluted

So cry
I cried a tear
I cried a dream
A real Cloud

Like a Flower
It blooms at night
With its preying eyes it awaits its next victim
and when the victim appears
does it finally turn to ashes

If the darkness was gone?
If all the demonic presences of Earth vanish?
If the world was crowded with Angels?

Who will teach us to not be greedy?
To be thankful of the things that we receive?
Who would show us the great values of Love and Justice?

Who would be our saviors?
Who will lead us to the path of light and righteousness?
Who will help us to learn the importance of cleansing our sins?

If the darkness was gone?
If all the demonic presences of Earth vanish?
If the world was crowded with Angels....​

I don't care to see your struggle
as your endearment
puts me in a eternal ******* full of regret
where I continually desire the contraption
until you set me free

No longer will I be a slave to your affections
Your whispers clinging to my ears like paper clips
and your kisses, feeling like cheap post-its that falls like snowflakes

Keep such an endearment to yourself
So you can finally have a taste of your own self-worth

The Real Battle Starts
Right After all the surviving troops leave
when only soulless bodies of Earth
Remains

In a horrific state of purgatory
who are now suffering the consequences
for their sins

The Mushrooms and Bacteria
judge these bodies
As they decomposed the remains
testing the quality of life

The Crows are the punishers
picking at the remains like a wild carcass in Africa
tearing limb from limb
supporting their own families

And those bodies that had decomposed peacefully
left for the awakening

The darkness pass
The sins are dissolve
but once again chaos is caused

But it is ascertain
that those Bacteria and Crows
and Purgatory
is waiting.

Poems without words
is like a cry from the asylum
wanted to be release from their *******
when even after their death
they never turned insane

Death is like
Origami paper
which spills from a old woman's face
INTENSELY
until all her
melatonin
skin
dissaPears
and all that is left
is an empty             Volume of space
oncefullofthethingsthat
made her
UnIqUe

Virginity
is like a new dust pan
so shiny and bright
that is eventually full of garbage and dirt
that is thrown in the trash
with a new status
“used”

However some dustpans
are cleanse from their dirt
still carried with sin
and with  a scent of development
and sometimes wisdom

Others are always full with garbage and dirt
not knowing the basic luxury of soap
nor do they remember when it first came out the package

Other dustpans are never used
but will either rot
or with a miracle will be continually showered with soap
Lasting with great wisdom
or resentment for not ever being
“used”

But like all things
it comes to an end

a dustpan is replace
when it is broken down or rotten
continuing the cycle
of life and virginity.

Such useless paper
when created
are given to greedy and idiotic people
whose only instinctual intentions is to spend and create
more...

More of what?
what is the useless paper

It doesn't grow on trees
But
actually
it
is
a
tree

maybe 17000
of them
And they have the audacity to destroy those trees children?
and parents?
and history!!!!


Those faded green papers of money
fulled of BACTERIA and viruses
transporting on human beings
as though  a retaliation from god
As God planned to reigned over the corrupted America

But I take that green dollar and spend it
knowing full well
that there is something scarier then God's Wrath
Money

If you have money you work
and if you work you have money
and the cycle continues
especially in a place like New York
that do the same thing over and over again

But there is a difference between workers
I am a worker
I look at the tall buildings in New York
Like a medieval anarchy

the top full of kings and queens,dukes and knights
the bottom full of peasants and slaves
and at the bottom full of witches burning in hell

those witches burning in greed and sin that they did not commit
there feet burning in ashes from their work from surrendering to the higher ups
crying to be release to the surface
but knowing they will always be chain to their hell.

So while I was sweeping the floor for greedy saints
I look up, took my broom and fly
fly just like a witch
breaking my ties with eternal hell
forever severing the bonds of surrendering and greed
of work and money

I  look at myself everyday
in the mirror
looking at my body intensely,looking for errors
my teeth
those monstrous pimples
and those cheap glasses
that hunch-back
who am I?
no,who is this? This body of self defeat?
what is my worth ?
what do my errors add up to?
does it deduct my final value?
Like a rusted guitar or a cheap  rag doll?

So I look at the reflections of many mirrors
I compare myself to them to the point of exhaustion
some mirrors raised my value
some didn't
some lowered my value
and some destroyed my value entirely

at one point I broke my mirror
because I finally realize
that value didn't matter
since all those mirrors came from the same thing

People praise geniuses
like they praise trophies
after all that hard work
they are put in a shelf
where  they will dust until that shelf is destroy
or until they are needed for entertainment
being drain from their polish

The trophy has no identity
It is own by society
only to be use again and again.

Some trophies accept their fate
others glamour in the sunlight where they reflect all light
being seen in the world as special
while being treated as **** at the end
and for all it's genius an all it's glory
It wasn't smart enough to break free.

I guess what all geniuses and trophies are missing is
Acknowledgment of True Self
As a genius is just a human being and a trophy, a scrap a metal
both made from the same old atoms.

Every since I was born
every since my first christmas
My first birthday
my experience from school
My first love and hate
my life was forever tainted

I look at the mirror to view my skin
the lightest of all brown
I cry in misery and helplessness
I try to scratch the skin out of my bones but it wouldn’t go
I look at my last name and shiver
I look at Santa Claus and wonder
I look at the people around me and I become lost

I dream of them coming
with their ugly wrinkled faces
and their barbaric ways
and ****** the little girls from their innocence
the ones that are my great great grandmothers
laughing and instilling the idea
that they were going to be theirs forever
and till this day they are

I look at T.V to see how they portrayed my sisters
skinny and shaky
poor and sad
but who have stolen from them?
The T.V?
The world inside the T.V?
Or my world?

But  I viewed  the true place of origin
So tropical,fresh, and healthy
civilized and intellectual
dark and beautiful
but this only sadden me more

I feel like throwing up
To regurgitate all my hatred from this wretched place
and when I look for my skin for answers
I simply give up

I’m trap
In this delusional world
Full of people who are lost
who lost their homes
and their skin and life tainted
Till death do us part

My love is like a bag
a bag of candy
pick the candy you like
anything..
m&m;'s,starburst, Hershey's chocolate.
But I prefer chips
the chips you can't stop crunching
but how do you know the kind of chips they are if they are in a raggedy black bag?
so dull and boring

try to open the bag
don't be too rushy, but have a firm, steady, constant pull
see, it open, but you took too slow
It's okay, just take one piece
and another and another
and wait, you're eating too much
leave some for myself and please put some of the chips you took back
Because you are not the only one taking from the bag.

People always wondered why I grow plants
shouldn't I be cultivating children?
they always look at me dumbfounded when I ask them this question..

"what is the difference between growing plants and growing children?"

They gave me the most obvious answers
"hello, it's freakin plants. They can't talk, they don't have no emotions, you can't use love to "make" them,and they are boring"
What they said was mostly true, as their answers came from a surface of understanding.
But actually plants can talk.Without their communications skills they wouldn't be able to survive and repopulate
plus I'm not actually a talker
they do have emotions. Their desire to always want to taste the marvelous sun is their happiness as well as when they get depressed when they don't have the sun or each other.
"I can't use love to "make" them" Well isn't that ignorant as if I didn't "love" these plants in the first place I would had never "made" them. You don't exactly need two humans to make love
and the most dreadful thing to say was that they were boring. Well they must be the most interesting creatures as I see them more than I see you

So while my parents left after being disappointed of what I'm doing with my life
I went back to planting some plants
the happiest thing that gives me life

Why don't you never see me cry
just because you don't see tears in my face
doesn't mean I didn't cry
as this body is a shell of my true form

i cried in the bathroom stall
in the cafeteria
in the park
in my house
I cried elsewhere
except in front of you
and when you stare into my eyes in a casually way
I cry again
as you again do not understand me
But it doesn't matter as you won't see

Love is like...
well it is hard to explain
like I hear the different theories of love
but it seems to me that love is selfish
it truly is
love is spread so thin
I mean we love our families and friends but..
love is always in this tiny personal atmosphere.
that's it
personal love is the most selfish of love
always between specific people(mostly two)
but what about other people who wants love?
the people who is never going to experience that heartbreaking, tear wrenching, confusing love
Who will give love to them  ?
is it their fault that they are not love?
Whose fault is it?
shouldn't we try to spread that love instead of keeping it personal?
shouldn't we all experience all of love treasures, even people that are bad?
Humanity already answer this question
and whatever we see in this world is the result

It smells like burning flesh dip in a dish of sulfuric acid
It feels like sweat traveling all through your body while you travel across landscapes that cuts and burns you constantly
you can hear your heart beating ever so slowly, almost to a stop when you hear the screams of hell
it taste like bombs and metals, with blood regurgitation from your mouth
You can see the millions of dead bodies, you can see your comrades dying every minute,you can see mutilations of body parts and tears until eventually you see darkness and the sky is filled with hatred and sadness
and you must know in your heart that you did something wrong, that you shouldn't be there, that from that day your life was ruin forever

Just because you have kids
doesn't mean you are a man
it just means that you are old or mature enough to contribute to humanity's population(if that is even the case)
just because you have muscles
doesn't mean you are a man
it just means that you are strong enough to do physical labor for humanity
just because you have tons of girlfriends
doesn't mean you are a man
it just means that you are in a stage where courtmanship is at it's peak  for the benefit of humanity
just because you have tons of money
doesn't mean you are a man
it just means that you have contributed something to humanity in which you are getting pay for it
just because you went to war
doesn't mean you are a man
it just means that you had enough respect for the country and your family and consequences were dealt to you  because of humanities behavior
the list of masculinity traits can go on and on
masculinity is primitive
femininity is evolving
and it is time for men to stop indulging in their primitive ways
for the survival of humanity.

I know that people are talking about you
about your behavior in the public
and about what you wear
and you know what it is unacceptable
seriously why did you change?
you used to inspire a lot of young girls
you were a freakin role model
and now the girls are imitating your rash behavior
do you think this is okay?
do you think this is cool?
no, it is not
But then I forgot to mention that you was a young girl yourself..

that you were admiring other people
you had the great American Dream too
and it seems as though we let you down
nobody help you, nobody understands you
but we wanted you to put a wig on and wear things that didn't show the real you
and you had to pay the price on your own
and what I see today is the result
So I'm sorry Miley Cyrus
I'm sorry we let you down
indulging you into this spiral of failures and traps
I'm so sorry
I hope you can forgive us

Sincerely, Society

I might be insecure
and probably I am, but
why are you staring at me like that?
no that only you but you
and you and you and you and you...?
why is there no depth in your eyes?
the simplicity of your movements opposes the movement you make with your eyes
why go through all that trouble staring at me?
am I mystical or something?
do you see something that I didn't notice about myself?
If you do please don't hesitate to ask a question
I won't bite
please as all I see in your eyes is no remorse

I was sitting on a sidewalk while people were passing right by me
all giving me weird stares
maybe because of my race
my mischievous smile
the black clothes that I'm wearing
or maybe the uncomfortable presence I bring
So with my insecure ways I bring a newspaper on my race, pretending to read
and made a wish

when the newspaper went down I only saw a bunch of people just like me  
passing by, all staring at me weirdly
but when I check to see my hands it wasn't me
It was somebody else
well it was somebody per each second
and as I began to constantly change form I got up and join the passing crowd
they parted away from me , but I don't care
because now everybody knows how it feels to be me
to be stare at with no remorse.

today I was on god's hand
his touch was electrifying, but comfortable
and I was the happiest person alive
when I look down from it's hands I saw the Earth
"****, we are really that high in the sky" I said
But then something happen
people started climbing on God
I was shocked and God was surprised and happy.
Eventually all the humans from Earth was in God's hand
and everybody including me trusted god.
and God was okay with that

the peace among the humans didn't last
fights began to erupt on god's hands
people kicking and fighting, people being trampled by feet, spitting, pulling hair, crying. We were lucky that there was no weapons.
God was obviously displease,
but he can't step in yet
I was in the corner of gods hand when somebody came over to me and punch me
Immediately I fell, fell to the abyss of the Earth's atmosphere
crying and pleading for god to come,
but he can't step in yet
and I understood, I don't hate him for letting me fall
because it is my fault that I placed soo much trust in it
and not on my self and humanity
so humans around me fall to our death
knowing that our god
still can't step in yet....

To me patience looks like this...
It is this huge man will a long black overcoat with pockets
with shiny glasses and Grey eyes
and a face that is aged
and a smile that looks between a frown and a smirk
and a wooden smoke pipe in his mouth
with raggedy bag rip jeans
and black boots
He sits on this wooden chair
and is near a large tree
and he lights his smoke pipe
put one arm on top of one thigh
leans over and stares with you with those ancient, deep eyes
and says in a deep tone..
“go head, speak I'm waiting”
but then this will also describe what understanding looks like
So then they are both the same?....

which is stronger?
the answer might be obvious
come one guess
it could never be hatred but..
no, it has to be hatred
that's all I see in the world anyway
hatred, hatred, hatred
but no love
but wait
there is love in the world
but it so superficial
maybe that is why hatred is overcoming
but naturally  hatred will overcome
as naturally humans have weak love
but then that is okay
that is why the darkness is there for
it is to increase that love
love will never be stronger than hatred
but then love will always be desired
for eternity to come

(P.S this poem is really not poetic and very direct)
The system in America *****
too many questions and not a lot people answering them
unless you are favored by society
I'm tired of all the discrimination
But it can't be entirely destroyed
as it is needed to advanced society in the first place
I'm tired of the immoral behaviors
but they are the things that redefine our morals in society in the first place
People shooting and ******
murdering and committing suicide
and as usual the system don't do anything
they are just waiting
waiting  until that chance come
until they will be able to produce a new world order
but then they are waiting
they are waiting..
they are waiting??
They are waiting !!!!!
We still have a chance
a chance to change the future
a future for the betterment of tomorrow
But can humanity sacrifice for change?
We are not ready

Nobody is ready to sacrifice our homes
nor our families and friends
nor our jobs
and it's amazing that these are the major things that we are sacrificing
only three
but we held high values on it
even though those things were created by people they never even meet
so until that sacrifice come
I will sit here writing prose poetry
waiting for that day to come...

What's the difference between slavery and having dogs?
I mean when they do good we give them treats
same as when a slave does good we give them small incentives
when they are bad we punish them
the same thing with human slaves
we either are good dog lovers or dog abusers
the same as good masters and bad masters
we transport them numerously
the same with human slaves
we breed them
the same with human slaves
we give them this food called "dog food"
which is a low quality  food given to human slaves
and the most obvious of all is dog collars and chains as to categorized them as property and to subconsciously "oppressed" them.
So is having a dog wrong?
A lot of people seem to treat dogs correctly
the dogs seems nice and happy
So was slavery okay?
I really don't know
You decide...

They say that a close mouth don't get fed
That if you don't ask for something you don't eat
People especially say this statement to me
As I'm a very passive person
Each time they would get mad at me for not speaking up
But then in my thoughts I would say..

" A close mouth don't get fed.Well I'm not desiring food.I'm desiring understanding.That's how I want to get fed.I can live without food for a month, But I can not live a week without understanding"

But of course I don't say anything
I just nodded my head constantly
pretending to hear the ignorant lecture
learning how to keep my mouth open
when that open mouth will gobble everything up out of greediness
till there is nothing more to eat
while at the same time learning to keep my mouth shut
and listen to other people without getting fed

I saw the branches shadow
the branches that was blocking the harsh sun
I look down
people surrounding me seem to ignore the shadows
but I didn't
I kneel down to look closely
It shadow branches starts to move, i'm startled
It was only the breeze of the wind
There were less people now on the sidewalk
I sat down
A scene began to play on the floor
I seen a bird that was perching on the tree
I saw squirrels fighting for nuts
I saw a butterfly land on one of the branches
I even saw a lion
What?....

I immediately look up
It wasn't there, i was intensely relax
I started to feel the cold in the air
I pull my jacket closely around me
I finally look down at the sidewalk
the branches were gone
the show was over
it was night time
I got up from my spot
and placed a dollar on one of the branches
and as I began to leave I anticipated what the next show was going to be.

God is the one who created the universe
The one who created us mere mortals
We are nothing without god aren't we?
But that is only partially true
God is nothing without us
without it's creations it can't exist
as what it creates shows its values
and when there is no value
it does not exist
so who is truly god?
It is definitely not us

It let out a big roar
all across the Sahara desert
Over the mountain ranges and snow leopards.
In the air full of tropical parrots and monkeys
It let out a roar
a huge one indeed
It’s legs and feet were melted onto the ancient marble table.

And it’s body was exposed for everyone to see
It’s love was written in the purest of red, it’s hatred black
It’s appearance seems old and shaggy
But when a force blew on it a tenacious voice came from within
It was the voice of mankind
As it was finally open
All bowed
”The truth will set you free” It bellowed  

And the world trembled

"Open it up, open it!"
"Move Brat, this is mine!"
"hell no, move away!"
"Hey, hey kids quiet down now!"
"But mom he started it first"
"Now kids get your presents and go to your room"
"Fine!!!"

There is a little town  where the houses are metallic and grey and smooth
The streets deserted with dust and the clouds darken with clay
In the middle of it all stand a figure in which people were praising at.
It had a nice smile and receive all the gifts
The people were happy
But their happiness were gripped from the clutches of government
Not one drop of love was share
And thus it was spread around the town

The kids went back to their room, letting the greediness absorbed through their skin
The mother sat down, thinking about the last time her man cared for her

Oh my, that  little white particles in the air is coming
But did you noticed that they don't feel like touching?
They never collide, I wonder why?
what is the magnitude of the hatred they have that pulls them away from each other..
But at the end of the day have enough love to gather themselves on the solid floor?
Gravity,electrical repulsion, air resistance
Do these things affects such creatures?
They fall through the window that is blocked with a screen and land on my boots
They sit there waiting to be touch, to have another connection to this world.
But it is too late for them as they die
Why do they die?
I seek the everlasting touch of frost
I longer for them to come through my window
I lick my lips because of how salty they are
And I feel rejuvenated as an incentive is coming soon
I sit and stared through that window
For eternity to come
waiting, waiting , waiting
until that "gut feeling" anticipation
Have been starved....