Life is
Rejection

It lets you in
Then
It lets you out

I see no difference
With that of
Love
With that of work
With that of
Friendship
With that of children
Parents
Grandparents

Pets
Be it
Fish
Dog
Cat or mouse

Life is
Rejection with
Temporary
Acceptance

What is
Forever?

Being an angel?
A devil?

Being human?
That's forever.
That's never.

Being human
Is a pause before
Eternity -

If you believe in that sort of thing.

Life is rejection
Before
And
After

Life is rejection
And we can't wait
To be rejected
To take a breath
From ourselves

Who goes asleep
Truly eager
To wake.

Be honest.

I am.

The call to be,
Present!
Stems from this rejection.
Is born from this fact.
This rejection
Is our halo, is our trident, is our wings, is our horns

Is our thought
As we lay
Entranced by the muse
Beneath the tree

Life is rejection
So be free
Before we are

Rejected

To who knows where.

The book
The book
The book wades
Within the shoreline
Of the sands of time
A vehicle
Of transportation
Never literal
Fictional and
That is our point
Our point of story
Of character
Of being seen between
The black and white letters
That make up us
And them
And our never ending saga
Of turmoil and love
The book
The book
The book wades
On the crisp angles
Of the break of a wave
Which carries from
One
End
To
One

End

The book
The book
The book must be kept
Safe
For it is the most delicate thing in the world
For it is the most durable thing in the world
For it is the most precious thing in the world

We have and ever will

Create.

I wish
I could make sense
Of this place

I wish
I could make sense
Of you

I wish
I could see your hand
On top of mine
In the
Shining sun

I wish
I could make sense
Of this world

I wish
I could make sense
Of this space

I wish
I could mix my breath
With yours
In this winters cold

Where no one
Knows our names
Or cares to
Or wants to
Or

Dares to

It's ok

When I tell

You it
Is

I promise you
I'm
Here

Oh' muse

Never not hear

Me

I'm hear
With
And

Without you

The cracks
On my hand
Mean Nothing
But are

Something

And I stare at your heart

Hoping

To hear from you

Never obliging

Always expecting

Loving the feel of the keys

I should be
With no one
I should

I'm selfish
With
My nights

My body
My mind

Though never
My soul

Work
Is
Work
Its tools of
Procrastination
And
Heartache

Never easy

And i see myself in the mirror asking,
I guess I should be content?

I guess I should
Be this.

I guess I should
Be that.

But, what is that?
Who is that?
When is that person
Whole?
Satisfying the other?

Should I come to bed now, I ask myself,
Or should I go

Later?

Tangerine light of morning trails through the dusted blinds of my older brother Diego’s inherited home. Mom, Dad, they’re north in America working. Our, my sleeping arrangements weren’t ideal. Uncle Cici, a drunk who repairs shoes on the outskirts of town, was in my parent’s old room. My brother, newly initiated to a Tijuana street gang, is alone in his. On the couch, I sleep with my Milky Way designed blanket.
I hear his bedroom door slam.
Lets go, Diego orders.
Where?
Without answering, he tosses a pistol on my blanket.
This machine of death lands right on my favorite star.

Left Chicago in 2011.

Said goodbye to my
Old Friends.

Said hello
To friends
That had
Always been.

Took the summer
Or the summer
Took me.

I worked for a job.
The job worked
Me.

Made nachos
With gluten-free chips
For customers
In Beamers
That had no time
For dreamers.

That job worked me.

The sun was hot
That summer.
Hot like
A forgotten skillet
On the stove - smoking and in disarray.

And I saw a friend,
An old one
From way back when the
When was simply the present.

Their hair was different,
A salty grey.
Their smile
Reminded me
Of a lost piece of a puzzle
That the two of us never got around
To finishing.

We exchanged formalities.

What you doing?
Who you been doing it with?
Where you going?

Things of that nature.

In this exchange,
The crisps of their retinas
Seemed to curl inward
Like the burning
Edges of a slip of paper
Set aflame.

I wanted
To ask
If there was
Something wrong.

You know when
You can
Just feel it?

But I chose not to,
Too anxious to push
The
Dreary
Frankness of my
Hesitant question.

A tendency
I have and
Something
I have been advised
Not
To do.

We have our problems
As the clouds have their puff
And the sewers have their
Ooze,
Their *****,
Their tossed' memories.

So, I
Said goodbye
To that friend
Dressed in the robes of nostalgia
And fading time.

And
I worried about them
Like I never
Had before
As I got onto my bike
To go home.

For some reason,
Preserving
An entity of the holy past,
A power former godly,
And then meeting them in the present,
Wipes all that away.

How quick
Like a snap
Time can shift
Perception.

How quick

Time can and will and should
Change us
To face this day.