A year ago I would've killed to have you say "miss you",
But now you're too busy killing your liver to even remember our last conversation.

A year ago I could have listened to you talk for days,
But now I listen to your slurred speech and you covering the phone to answer someone else.

A year ago I would have taken every call from you,
But now I take them so I know you're simply still somehow alive.

A year ago I did miss you,
Now that's the person I still miss, if I even ever come close to actually feeling for you.

A year ago my grandma said you would someday miss me as she wiped tears from my eyes.
Now it's that someday she spoke of and I can only wonder how drunk you may be.

A year ago you missed me by not caring;
Now I'm returning the favor.

I wonder what your eyes saw,
When they were glassed over with tears,
Bloodshot and pain filled,
Staring at me with hope and loss.

The eyes that once were lit by starlight in my dark bedroom, illuminating a part of my soul once undiscovered.  Were now shattered and filled with sorrow.

You held me, and kissed me with your chapped and broken lips.

You embraced me, your hands dry and your fingertips blistered from the rusted strings you played all night.

I felt you in my arms.

I slid my nails along your spine, an action that always comforted you as a child.

I pet your hair and in each lock, I twirled my fingers in your deepest thoughts.

And I wanted to run away with you.

But as I kissed you for the very last time,

I felt you crack, just like the plaster on my ceiling.

Cold
Streaked orange
blue outer
space
single
diamond

There is always too much to say,
and never enough to say it.

The limits of language are blunt,
though nature is most eloquent.

Reality is ineffable,
though it speaks in every which way.

Wordlessly she moves,
her metaphors pervade.

A mind like a cumulus cloud
Parted by the sun
A mind that is clear now
Frantic thoughts are done
A mind that forgot all that was trivial
A box of pills to wash it down
A mind like a hazy room
Peers through a smoky corridor
A mind for books
Lying tattered across the hall
A mind for incessant violence
Making every move
A mind for what could be
Perpetual instant gratification
A mind that now knows better
A mind that is mine

With the mind
turning and twisting
in the agony of a heart
squeezed dry like a sponge with despair
I pace to and fro
in a bedroom's dimly lit silences
as a caged animal
hungering and thirsting
for the scent of a liberating oasis.

In the shade of my smile,
echoes a certain depletedness,


in the depths of my eyes,
is a spectacle of inanition,


in the chaos of my heart,
lies one true thing, a lie...

Of concrete. Of scraped kissed knuckles
There again
infinitesimal ***** of flesh.
The bud, wrapped in a linen of ash.
Giving light, then withholding.
Like a mother’s feed, “pero cuidado de las chichis muy wanga”
Solo slabbing concrete
Without the creaks in the pavement
the city cannot breathe.