The Strongest People
               LIVE
To Tell Their Stories.

She's like deliquescent caramel,

the cool side of a pillow

        to lay your weary head,

subtleties of springtime &

          warmth in wintertide,

whispering hope upon lush  

        Zephyrus pipe dreams,  

    mellifluous nymph with wings

                 of a butterfly warrior,

softly determined,

    unfailingly true-hearted,

       whilst relentlessly ferocious

  Wise, yet sometimes struts

        blindly in the light,

       as dulcet tones of a cello's

           melodious marmalade

            in sentiment's tender fancy,

she's beauty, charm,

         knowledge, poetry,

               utter strength,

               & humane weaknesses,

she's twisted and ethereal,

           her aura sublimely captivating

     you may covet her body,

            you'll never possess her soul

White smoke dancing in the air
A pretty smile and the natural swaying of her hair.
Dark lips and a laugh that echoes in her head.
Thinking about what lies ahead
Keeping a straight face is harder than it seems.
For she has learned to fake
the difference of a smile and a tear
She can no longer make appear.
Living in her one way mentality
She resides next to fear and goes to  sleep with reality.
While having an affair with fantasia
This goes on daily it's impossible to interfere
But as dreams become sueños they turn into esperanza and that is all she needs to keep her fighting for la causa
The session is over but she's learned a new lesson
A reminder from her Spirits
"Don't forget where you came from
 and what you came for. "
Then she slowly disappears...

FADED

Long enough to endure this pain
My sleeves corroded by this heavy rain
I stand steady on this unending road
I won’t last long before I cave
With this shattered heart I am a slave.

Craving to grip his arm
Strolling through the shadows of no shame
His voice is the sound left in my ears
I will sink in my own treading tears
I will Praise the light of the last dawn.

I have sipped the deadly passions
Leaving the empty bottles on the lonely table
For his words enveloped all my doubts
His eyes untied the rope of my strength
Our love is a glass on the edge of the table.

The night covers the sky
The moon shines back on our faded faces
Sitting in the corners instead of centers
Pulling out all the grief
Letting the lenient wind sweep away the tears

Before the sun rises
I dearth to inhale the aroma of a red rose
Exhaling the odor of the smoke of burnt letters
For eternity he will be the music to my soul
The reason of my last drop of tears

Learned to scream without making a sound
Learned to cry with my eyes closed
Learned to dream without sleep
Learned to bleed without cuts
Learned to feel pain on the inside
Learned to hide scars so they don’t leave marks
Learned to bleed with a heart that stopped beating
Learned to breathe with lungs that have long since collapsed
Learned that my problems cause my loved ones to suffer
Learned that an apology don’t fix anything
Learned that living doesn't mean you’re alive
Learned that asking someone for help makes you a pathetic attention seeker  
Learned that its probably better to die rather than to fake living

I am the thinnest slice of pizza
A warm beer
A scratched DVD
A lukewarm shower

A last resort

I'm what one settles for when all other options have been exhausted
And what is disposed of the moment something better presents itself

Would it be poetetic to take this blade across my wrist
The silver kissing at my arteries

Would it be romantic
To die because of love
Possessive hands choking me.

Would it be beautiful
To breath my last breath
Leaving behind all those who care.

Or would it be tragic to abondon this world before my time.
Mother and father crying over me.

some have skins like the bark of a tree, with names of each lover that has passed engraved in them.
some have hands like the branches of a tree, with veins showing on every little scrawny finger.
some have shoulders like the leaves of a tree, with emerald canopies that shelter souls from a thunderstorm.
some have feet like the roots of a tree, chained to the ground with their heads in the cloud.

My son runs, wrapping arms around
my nebulous waist.

"l love you, Mom!"  He squeezes tighter,
as if letting go would be his black hole.

"I love you, too, " I squeeze back, absent mindedly.  (Where is the cream? I need coffee.)

"I love you more!" he breathes, without pause.
He gazes into my eyes,
searching my planets.

"Oh no, that can't be true," I retort.
I forget the coffee, his eyes are starlight.

"I love you to infinity!" he exclaims,
staring harder.

He wants to sail the Milky Way with me.

"Me too," I reply, and remember oxygen tanks.

I'm speaking in light years, and I hope the sound waves will catch up to him.

His face cracks into a million years of forever, before he lets go,
dancing across the universe of our livingroom,
his solar system intact.

At least for now.