Cansada de besos vacíos
suspiro tu recuerdo cada noche
las rosas que brotaban de tu boca
el onix de tus ojos
la saliva enamorada
tu piel de miel tostada
Y me pregunto que será de ti
en las noches solitarias
¿Recordarás la sauvidad de mi piel?
la dulzura de mis caricias
lo conmovedor de mis miradas
los labios          que juraste amar por la eternidad


Y como pregunta se queda
flotando en el aire
aire de anhelo y extrañamiento
aire de recuerdo
imito tus caricias en mi piel
y con eso me conformo
porque ya no hay más




también las flores mueren

i want to want my life to be calm, and quiet

From where I stand I wonder if there is a better option at all
Sitting here wishing we were 17
When we could blame our age or our experience or the drugs, man when now we can't even look at each other
You didn't peel back your skin and show me how your blood flows because I didn't ask you to
You never told me you would never leave me because I didn't want to know
You never promised forever because we agreed
That forever is a concept humans created
To comfort themselves from the inevitability of death, and decay
Silently i promised you forever
Because for me forever is a moment that you can't get back,
Forever is knowing that what you have now is all you'll ever have,
As far as we are concerned
Forever is inside me,
Forever is not a promise, it's a warning

Two months ago my grandma's spirit
Started leaving her body
She hadn't passed yet but
She had no use for this realm anymore
I wondered where spirits go
And who would tell me I'm wonderful
And beautiful and perfect
Once she was gone

Two months ago my mother and I
Planted morning glories
On our old rusted lightpost
"They never grow for me," she said
"Every year I try and they just never latch on, never grow how they're supposed to"
She glanced at me as if she wasn't talking about flowers anymore
"If they bloom I will kiss you with joy"

Nearly always, I do not feel wonderful
Or beautiful or perfect
But as time passed and I questioned
Why we all try
Just to suffer and die
In your home, in your hell
After twenty, thirty, or eighty years
I realized that the vines had taken over the post, had overgrown the broken lightbulb
The twisted vines full of buds
Had reached over 7 feet

My grandma's hands could grow any flower on this planet
But she was not a flower
She was not delicate
She did not need to be coddled
She is the weeds that you yank out every weekend just to grow back
She is a mighty cactus in Arizona

She is the morning glories in my front lawn,
Living by the earth instead of it's seasons
She could have been a redwood
Or a rare plant, remotely in Tahiti
Protected, strong, beautiful
She is the morning glories on my front lawn to remind me
"So can you"

Besides being vaporized,
We can only imagine intense light
Intense heat
As unfathomable as nothingness
Should the ability to blind be praised?
Should something matter just because it refuses to be ignored?

I reach down to the earth and know
That everything that has
Ever mattered to me has rested on it
I reach for any star
As close as I can get to touching it
Knowing that everything
I've ever thought was impossible
Is just beyond my fingertips

Why do I find you there
Under and beyond my fingertips?
Are you the earth I grow on?
Are you those stars I long to live in?

i am sitting in the office
listening to the old women i work with
they rarely work, usually gossip
sometimes talk about work or the lack therof which they do
one woman is talking about
how her ultimate downfall
when she had started this job
was that she didn't
clean the **** off of the bottom of the sinks

before i tuned into that conversation,
stephen hawking had just informed me
that the ultimate goal of every human
is to have an absolute theory for why we're here
how we got here
and what that means
as i tuned in to their exhange
i wonder if this is hyperbole
(as was their conversation)
since these women didn't appear to care
why they're here
perhaps the theory of relativity
works with minds as well
the farther away you get from an idea
the more it repels you