Tell me, darling

Whose name I've been chasing

After all these years I still don't know

who I am, and want to be

Are you the one for me?

The one of many; millions

upon millions of seeds

Only one had a chance

and some would say

that's luck;

How fortunate I am to be stuck

on this planet with no real

destiny; drifting like a ghost

through an empty building

I once called home,

is my perfect idea

of fate.

If you ever seen ugly,
you've never seen ugly

If it doesn't fit in your hand,
why strain yourself
with disfigurement?

Your eyes are
picture perfect;
capable of
precise precision

Disillusionment knows
no boundaries

And so,
onward
we march
as stagnant
as ides of March

consumed by the
ideals of the our times

If you've never
had love, it wasn't much
but two hand touch;

yes, it was rough, and at first
it wasn't enough,
but now that you've
lost it all,

a bowl of cereal in
the morning
is another lonely
nail in the coffin

i pour water
into my dog's bowl
and watch as my
reflection wades
into the depths
below

this is solitude
at it's finest

as though
it were ******
resting upon
the belly of a spoon

ready to be
devoured

my soul is but
a figment of it's
own imagination

it isn't till
my dog yelps
for more water

that i realize

i am whole
within a hole

and this moment
of emptiness
is simply paying
the toll

just to be alive

When one looks for cavities
there's a myriad of sweets to choose from

So why is there
an incessant desire
to be fulfilled
when you can dig
more craters into the soul?

Milk shake,

rattle-pop, and

Tootsie Roll

No one is ever gonna know,
who dipped their hands into the bag
and stole a couple of this,

that's, and

those

Cause a kid who tells
on another kid
get's a sweet and tasty
6 foot hole

another tuesday morning*

i wake up with
a dry mouth, i turn
to my left and
stretch my arm out

i reach for her
but she's hardly there,
what's left of her
slips through my
brittle fingers

it's been a week
and now
she's finally
said goodbye;

filling the desert
valleys from day
to night

hardly anything
dare swims in the
trenches of my heart

i cry out from the
hollowness of my being,--

where the light
looks and feels
no different than
the dark

and all that remains
is an echo; like the
smallest stone that
forms ripples

on a lonely pond

at the end of
world

i lay on the bed
scribbling words
of adornment
with my pen

the sound it makes
reminds me of
bones that break

the scars,
they never heal
do they?

and so my
hands can't
help but seek
out other hands
to hold
and shake

time flies,
and the blood
stains on the sheets
remain

an empty plastic
bottled smiles
from the end of my bed

tells me it's goodnight
for good,--

nights
were never
my favorite
time of day
anyway

i bury myself
in memories;
it's the only way
i know how to breathe
without getting stuck

my tongue trips
up, when i do
my damnedest
to express my emotions

but i don't come close
to the perfect reasons,
hell,--

i wouldn't
know how to
stop
to begin
with

don't worry about it
the days will go on
without you;

you'll leave this planet,
pretty much like
you left the other
ones before it

your obituary has been
written with writ, your eulogy
eloquently spoken

family and friends
finding and sharing
their favorite moments

your outline in chalk,
your shape in sand,
your legend in stone

all of you, in
all of us, part of
nothing,

and spread out
like birdseeds,--

and once you're
gone for good,

your favorite barista you used
to talk to on every Sunday morning
will wonder where you went;

because it's been 2 months
since you've come by
for a grande iced ***** chai.

the evening rolls
off my tongue like
a spanish R,

a click, hop,
and a jump
away, my mouth

makes a noise

in the midst of all
this silence

'you're right'

is not something i want
to hear, and it's feels
like hell holding it back

the spine crinkles

like an ******* of potato
chips that we kept
between the cushions
of the living room couch
for the entire winter

remember that day
when i promised i'd go
swing dancing with you?

i said my legs were tired
after my jog around the school
by our apartment, i ran

10 laps straight, remember that?

i lied,

i sat behind a tree
and cried

my eyes squeezed dried,
into a ****** pulp
and fried

my allergies, dear
they're acting up again
can we go next year?

you took it, like you
take everything, buried
it six feet deep,
next to the resentments
and regrets

labeled it,

under rather not
bother

you were right
all them years

said i'd limp my way
to your heart, and drag
it along the bowls
of an unnamed river

can't we just
burn our losses like
stars and start over
again?

find each other
in the tangled webs
our ancestor's
blindly wept?

suddenly, doesn't
feel so sudden
when you're loved one
is no longer ladened

she's free of the
significant other
burden

and i remain
a distant memory

the false beginning

of my own sincere
history,

this cocooned heart
of mine, so free, free

free of the precious
metal container

called misery

what's a minor
setback to a major
league failure?

wallow in despair,
a weeping willow
desperate on never
making things right

sinking further
into the bowls of the
earth, begging
every seed to bloom
and burst

but what of love
for the self? like
ancient books
buried deep
in the shelves

never to be read,

blue as the sky
when it bled;

the mind petrified and
dried out,
pregnant with dread

what is preparation
to the being desperate
for death?

you don't know,
but you speak like you do

and that, my friend

is the end.

I am
sorry, my love,
lovers;--
lovees. You must
understand. I was
built to touch, caress,
hold tightly, let
go lightly, but
above all;
end your
loneliness.

The developer
thought it best
to halt progress.

I was postponed.

The fiscal year
came and
it went; and still
I was locked
in this cage of theirs
never to see
the light of day,--
your gaze, I am
incomplete.

They filled
me with guilt,
and unbearable shame;
left me here to rot
with the thought of you,
you, and you;

You whom I have yet
to love, and adore;
you always.

Am I curled up
in the corner,
afraid and alone?

This, I do not know;

I may never know.

Come find me,

behind somewhere

is where I am;

your nowhere

is my life, it's been like that

since the beginning.

hallelujah, it's halloween
our eyes are stitched shut
to hide those awful
things we've seen

they are lit
behind a burnt
orange film
screen

they play like movies,
these nightmares,
surreal and haunting

like acid drops
to the end of our
tongues

we trip like torches
towards the sun, our flames
merge into one another

we shine so bright

and burn everything
in sight,

all those hallmark cards
laid to waste, those dears
and sincerelys

now just faded
memories

thank the lord
who set every forest
ablaze

every animal
has it's fate;

a simple beating
heart is just a
red, plump
container

with a name

Can I promise you the impossible,
be the photographer without the scenery
or model, be the pen without the
paper or writer, be the mind
without the creativity or logic
be the voice without the silence
or argument

Can I show you what I see in you
without the fear you cling to through
self-image

Can I love you without condition
or question

Is there motion
in this lifetime

Can we make it together
through the horrors, and
sublime

Can I promise you
what can't be promised
and love you
till it's no longer
possible to love anymore

If I can't,

then I hope I am able to

at least make it through the winter.

when i was
a child*

at night
i used to see
shadows dart
across the walls
in the gutters
of our streets

it wasn't
till i got older
till i finally met
those creatures
and called
them by name

some of them
have passed;
some of them
still live to this day

we don't get together
as much as we used to

but those filthy,
albiet, gorgeous
creatures

still live at the bottom
of my heart

where the waste of
my mind goes

He took the blue sari
and it worm him
like a blanket of
harpooned skin.

A rope wrapped
itself around his neck
and colored his
abyss-black lips red.

It was seen as blood
to those around;
unbearably sad and
overflowing wth
pure joy.

It was his personal sand dune;
sinking into concrete waves
of the nearby animals;

He took the red sari
and covered his insides
with their hidden words;
said the present moment
was the only elusive meaning
we could depend on.

And then without warning
hushed the entire world
with his siren.

He took the gold sari
and it gave him
the music that
tears limbs of dancers apart;

and that satisfied him
to no end, but he knew
deep down his shallow waters

that the eternal dream

was just getting started...

wake up
it's time for work
the arms are extended
labor calls, they tilt
like the antlers of a deer
an object,
no a thousand
pounds of nothing
awaits their arrival

as though they've been
waiting it out;

waiting for something
important to uproot
them from their dull,
but peaceful existence

i.
I fell into this hell
at the age of twelve
on a warm Sunday in Texas.

While the rest of my family
left to church, I was to remain
at home with my 16 year old
cousin.

They thought her harmless
because of her physical ailments.

I soon found out
anyone could be a Roman.

She held both my skinny arms far apart
as though she was preparing to nail me to a cross;
Later on that night she taught me how to dance
like a demon; I've never been burned by an
effervescent fire since.


ii.
This hell does not define me,
but has marked me forever as an outsider
to pure happiness. I've been set ablaze
for life. My relationships have sunk
into the depths of the inferno; their remains
are stories now. The kind you tell
at campfires to ***** all the naive
children.

iii.
It's a long climb when you
start at the bottom. Where the scarlet
teeth gnaw at your insides, where
the claws tear away at your badly drawn design.

iiii.
Mother, you have forsaken me.

A fool who only wanted proper nurturing.

Goddess of Neglect,

Your imprint has stained

everyone who wants to love me.

iiiii.
I can live with these tattered wings.

Bruised skull. Punctured Lungs.

Aching muscles. Taut body.

I can fly if only for a little while.

Be free. Be free. Be Free.

Love myself.

Love others

just as well.

If you feel it surge
through your body
and no one's around
to witness; then

you're home free;

in your bubble of
Truths, where the
crimson fiends
burst through the doors

and splattered
across the floor,--

You there,

wondering where
the heart has gone;

Your skeleton
knows no bounds
as it rests comfortably
between the jaws

of tradition

and sickness;

your sanctuary
of insanity

Only you know
the way out of
nowhere;

and only you
hear the screams

of the undying

thirst.

I promised I'd tell
no one about our
little secret. I keep
my hands clasped firmly
on my lap and breathe
in the air like it's
my last day on earth.
We signed a blood pact.
It was ten years ago this day.
My hair is much longer
than it was when you first met me.
And your legs are much
thicker than they were when you
bought me Usher's first album.
I still sing along to it;
do my best to dance like
he does in the music videos.
It used to hurt me, keeping
this secret you forced
me to keep. Said if I told
anyone I would go back to that
dark place; where claws
are attached to moving shadows;
they'll pull me in, you whispered
as you sat on top of me, and never
let me go. I trembled under your
weight. But held you tighter
that Sunday night.

You are part of me, perhaps
ruffled pink feathers
that form a big fat
cheek

or the edge of
a cliff, sharp
and desolate;

my lovely
mountain peak

You are part of me,
when I am embarrassed,
stumbling over words
I never meant to say

Out of reaction,
our heads poke
of hills like moles

It's one apology after another

We are human, our mouths
communicate to one another

but while our minds form
thoughts to express, our bodies
say otherwise

We catch the eyes of others;
their gaze just as rare
and unique as our
mother's and father's

and like bridle, old branches
we give to the pressure
of being the apple of one's eye
for the time being
rather than love
what cannot be
heard or seen

You know, after all
you are a part of me,--

the rumbling, rousing
fisticuffs of my guts;

Push on, and on
until

death is the one

that signs the contract
across the dotted line.

I guess a lifeless body
is a metaphor after all

What did you mean
by 'he looked peaceful'
or 'she laid there
in complete calm'?

I was reminded
of a cat chasing a ball
of yarn;

You wanted to explain
something that could
not be explained
away

as though it were
a bag of yesterday's
garbage; or a desk
full of discarded coins
in desperate need
of arranging,

of saving...

And so I sat there,
with each of you,
as a brother, an uncle,
a father,

a stranger,

consoling you as you
soaked the impossible
in torrents; every dream
flooded by a thousand
realities

We never saw each other
after it was over, but I still
see you in others as I get older;

Your face is lost
amongst the tides
of lovers;

and I weep, because
your absence is still
as abstract as the day
I came across your entrance.

Don't you think I could use
a little help over here?

Medic! Medic! Medic...?

A health pack
would keep me going,
but you think
because I look, act,
talk, and think like a
ten ton truck,

that I am one?

The strongest
ones in life
got that way
by being afraid
for their lives.

A little tender
love and care
goes a long way
for a grizzly bear;

A health pack
would be nice
right about now.

i was fifteen when it happened
i laid there waiting for it to end
my body was like an acorn
waiting for the squirrel to steal
it away, only to bury it deep
underground where no one
could find me;
i was numb, but do you
know that feeling
when your shoelace gets
stuck around the peddle
bar and it's been spun around
so far already that it's too late
to stop? it felt like that
but much worse

i kissed the asphalt before
my lips ever touched
another pair of human lips

i only know what shards
taste like

don't feel sorry for me
though; it's the nature of
things

you get used to the sharp
edges, and that's all you
long for

i was twelve when i died
but i no longer mourn

He leaves the store
and sits on the curb.

There is a sandwich in
his hand; most likely
past it's due date.

People pass, some say
hi, others avoid him with ease.

He doesn't bother to look up;
his sandwich is almost done.

Too bad there aren't any chips.

He brushes the crumbs off his shirt,
gets up and goes back into the store;

then comes out with another sandwich,
and also a bottle of water.

He chugs the water, throws the bottle
in the nearby trash can, and huffs.

He decided whether or not he
wants to start on the second sandwich;
but before a decision is finally made
he sees the bus coming down the street.

He gets up, puts the sandwich in his pocket
and goes to the bus stop.

He gets on the bus.

Kimberly answers the phone, but not
before polishing the last finger off.

The Christmas lights pierce her
window and reflect off the
bright pink nails; she blows on
them as she picks up the phone.

'Hello' she says.

There's dead silence.

'Hum'

She puts the phone back
on the receiver and
starts on her toes.

You're my grandmother.

A statue at the sewing table.

There is nothing there

but the fabric of faded

womanhood;

your history is embedded deeply.

It's too late to make up for lost time.

Yet, I still mention your name

when I am writing sadness

across these walls.

Has what little joy

you kneaded into my

sides been torn away already?

You were my grandmother,

now swaying beneath the clouds

with skinny branches;

as though you were asking

for one last hug before you depart.

It's been quite some time since I've seen my father.

He rests like the mask of a retired luchador;

a soft, withering hero's costume of my childhood.

I know I don't talk about him much;

it's not like you ever ask what he was like anyway.

My uncles and aunts who used to shine like diamonds

when talking about him, have corroded over time;

stuck in the dying art of living.

I used to be superstitious you know.

Each time I visited the cemetery

I'd make **** sure I wouldn't walk over his

grave.

I can still remember the expression his face would make

when he got angry with me.

I feel that demon seethe within when I don't get my way.

And I never, ever get my way.

So what gives?

Pay a visit, let my words rise and fall in the afternoon air;

Feel the hopelessness of communication; each word

a petal that's been torn off with no regard and roughly

placed on a half-assed craft.

At least there is a consistent mood I can depend on;

where every question remains unanswered;

a predicable outcome;

always a safe bet.

ever feel
like you're
this close
from getting
your head
severed?

the body...

so neck
deep in it's
own impulses
and desires

how comedic
to call it ours

it's her body,
let her do
what she wants
with it

is like saying:

it's his
car
let him
crash into
a group
of children

the mind
and it's
desperate
need for
possession

to control,
to have and
to hold

to cherish this time
as though it
were never time at all

i say

let's watch
their wounds
bleed out
and see how desperate
they are to seal them

the infinite
is a simple speck

our complicated

mouths fumble
to spit out

I'd give you all the passwords
to every account I've made online
if I knew for sure
there wasn't already a way
to access them

I'd prefer to shed
light on every dark
secret of mine if it
kept you close to my
mind, trapped
for all time

We're tangled
knots of misfortune;

such is the fate
of rosebuds
with sharp
emerald veins

And here I thought
we'd make it further
then I ever dreamt possible

Past the threshold
where the sun
greets the unknown
and shines a light
upon it

as though

it were never lost at all.

There are scribbles on the walls
that I did not leave; I arrived
here with no name, and not
a penny in my pocket.

But the woman at the door
looked friendly and that
was all I needed.

There were
creases in her face
that reminded me
of the folds in my
elder sister's belly.

I used to lay
my head there
when the troubles
of living outweighed
the troubles of thinking.

Now that I am here
I know not what else to do.

The sun is a bright
flashing reminder
of how sick I am, and
how much sicker I
am yet to become.

The clouds are as
futile as my memories
of childhood; everyone
I ever loved is a lonely
stone on the ocean floor.

I do my best to make sense
of the scribbles; I trace over
the etched markings with
the two good fingers of
my right hand.

I don't stop until my eyes
open and the fog clears;

I see a path the creatures
before me have taken; a path
that resembles the wires
hidden in vessels
between the arm and the hand.

A main artery.

The one I should have taken
long ago.

If this is complete,
utter darkness, then
finally, I am safe;

free from
courage and will.

There is a knock at my door
that suddenly gets louder and louder
until I become one
with the walls, and no longer
hear them.

It didn't take long to find
a place I could call home.

It was the searching that was torture.

The seeking of death
is a young man's game

and the dream of romance
is a little girl's fancy

Is there anymore room
between these two things?

Living without life
is just as easy.

I am being held, against my will, by 6 giant creatures in black cloaks. There's no way to get out. I shake, I fight, I gnash with teeth, I scream, and I struggle. They lead me down a dark hallway, to a room with a flickering lamp on top of a small desk. The lamp is of the portable kind, and it seems like it's about to shut off leaving me in the abyss; a total darkness that will engulf me, and in this abyss, there is the chance I may lose my soul, my self, my identity, for good. But there are two blank sheets of paper on the desk.

One black, and one white.

There is a pen in between these papers. Who knew a chair could be a luxury? This is my last hurrah, the moment to define my entire existence from here on out; it will be total blackness soon, that's all there is after the lamp gives out; the unknown, the uncertainty; there are no guarantees I may ever leave, no promises of the creatures coming back for me;

No more light.

The ink of the pen is black. Does it even matter which paper I choose? In the end, it does, because this is my life, and I have a choice, even if it's between two things.

The pen itself, much like the light, is in it's death throes. But I choose to write anyway. 3 words that will define the dark times ahead.

I write:

I needed this.

the coming days are like
a tidal of white walls

as children, my brothers
and i used to put our
crayons and markers
at work

i wrote my name
in cursive on my
wall, my brothers

drew big circles,
then little circles within
the big ones

and we stood back
like a live audience
with our mouths
agape

there was no such thing
as constructive criticism
at the time; 'yours
*****' seemed
to suffice

but even then,
that got boring

had i known i could
have had a hand in
shaping a sibling
into a spray paint
tagging maestro

i would have said:

i see what you're
trying to do there,

it's a human
being plastered
across a blank
sky

give it some life,
a little color;

like you are
handing over
a full heart
to all that empty space

It's like a boil on your favorite finger.

The scarlet liquid reaches
a tipping point
and when the ***
is about to spill
a hand, seemingly out of nowhere,
reaches out to catch it.

An open hand
is still an open hand
despite it being
melted right down to
it's bone.

No one want to love
and lose.

What has flesh taught us
but to let the skeleton
feel safe and comfortable
for the time being.

"We're all soldiers now"

And the blanket
comforts the child
one last time
before she
becomes the woman
she was meant to be.

i.

There are tiny
holes in the wall,

as though
the drill
was having
the time of it's
life not fulfilling
it's duty

It reminds me
of the time
I wore a brand new
pair of shoes just
to splash around
in puddles

We are the increments
of flesh caught in the
gnashing gears of time
and space

ii.

There will be a day
when you say
goodbye to me;

and I won't
mind the heartbreak,
I swear,--

I'll carry your
wicked smile
to the depths
of my grave

It's getting late.
The undead are having a night on the town.
The rustling of feet fill the evening air;
it's a dance of shuffle and scurry.
Don't be scared. That's only your heart
beating faster and faster.
No one knows we're here.
We made love three times already.
That's how bored we are.
Remember when you had things to do?
Remember when I had a schedule to follow?

Remember little Susie,
and Timothy?...

Me neither.

The scars never go away.
The past had it's moments of pleasure
as they did with pain;
and not much of it has really changed.

Don't be afraid.
It's just getting late.
It's only ***** fingernails clawing at paint.
The old door rattles, and it's **** shakes.
Someone wants in on our love.
Or that's what we always thought it was.

Let's make love another time.

The scars across your body
tell me the greatest bed time stories.

Yell over me,
cow jumped below
the moon

The dairy sets
in, bubble guts,
hollowed out
cigarettes, nicotine
fix -- breathe

it in

One more beer
for the road, no
let's argue
about it for a while

Go home, you're
not right
in the head, but alright
let's go ahead

Exhaustion
sets in

Tomorrow
opens it's eye
lids and

teases us
with sugar,
caffeine,
and distraction

Sink in like
a ship into
the present

Deeper, and
deeper till

the past is no longer
the past

but rather

a single
digit existence.

You don't give up
it's not in your dictionary

there is no acting dumb,
feigning ignorance,
playing dead,--

you wouldn't
know what the words meant
if you put give
and up
together anyway

it's difficult
to conceptualize,
even when everyone
around you is shouting
it from the top of their lungs;
screaming it into your heart,
begging you to do

what cannot be done

simply because

it has yet

been born

we do the best
we can
to ignore it;

run for our lives
till the end of time;

it's on the edge
of our tongues

sharp as a blade,

it sets our
tightly knit
mouths ablaze

yet it isn't true,
and it does not exist

this fatal word

the one that
tries desperately
to escape our lips

no,

we are an organism
that knows no boundaries;
an organism
that will never cease
to exist

we can make decisions,
but we don't
have to live with
our choices

we can exit stage
or wait for the
final curtain

it remains
in the soil
of our plump,
red hearts

saying it;
won't change
much

but at least
we have this
one opportunity
to do so

The words of a poet
can be so trite
and exhausting;

That's why I turn to
the latest scientific
discoveries;

The medical field
is ripe with beauty;

what was once unknown
is now unraveling;

I hope to never read
a word about Her,
or Him
and how a heart is broken
or mended,
ever again.

Oh Gosh. I thought I'd lost you. The signal was cut wasn't it?
What were you saying? Something about how this is too much
for you and... That's all I caught. What was the rest? Too much for you...
and you still want more? Well, I've got a lot more to give so don't
you worry your precious head over it.

Will you hold me
against my past deeds?

What if what I said
back then
was the byproduct
of a different
mind
at the time?

Who am I now, if not
the same person I was
when I was given
the breath of life?

All this contortion
just to be liked;

all this self-destruction
just to feel alive.

When does it end?

it'll click
you'll wonder
it'll click
you'll wander
it'll click

you were there..

and it was a bright,
vivid place

it clicks

and you're gone

The future is
a conversation among
old friends; and the present,
a familiar beer in the hand
attached to an outstretched arm
riddled with scars;
a taste of loneliness so
golden and hoppy

Home is always far
away, much like the
sun when it's rising
and falling; a throbbing
orange-red pulse
in the endless
blanket of blue

Let's fall in love,
the moon says
to her wounds;

and they do,
but it doesn't last long

Happiness cleanses
the soul of it's tiny
tortures;

and somewhere
in the distance a brown
baby coos for his
blank faced mother.

You got to step it up;

leave this
fragile
comfort zone
of yours,

there is no more
twilight here

Write what you want
to read

even if those eyes
don't clearly see

Your choices
are blurs on
the television screen

You chose to be honest
with yourself

Your
self

will

remember
this

You go it alone;

but in this sea
of loneliness
there are plenty
of visible hands
to hold

Wish for more
wishes; cry
as much as you
dare;

You no longer
have to try

Because no one
can tell you

what to do,
or what not to do,

without

telling a lie.