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Kevin Castro Oct 20
we are the sand on which man with his ever arrogant gait
treads. we are his tools, his land, his obstruction,
his children’s playthings, his building blocks
bounded only by the limit of his imagination.

to him, we are docile, but we are in conflict,
refusing to give way, robbing each other of the space
for breath, for drink.

we outnumber man as stars do, yet
our friction renders us subservient
to his hands.

we could be so much more.
if it were not for this
friction, this ****** friction,
we could bury oceans
and change the course of rivers.

it is my hope
that a great raptor shall beat her wings,
uniting us in her wind to rend flesh from bone,
that man’s blood shall be our water,
a medium to swallow him whole,

and we shall be dyed red like our brothers
on a former earth

who killed the god of war.
i submitted this to my university literary folio. im not allowed to disclose the results of the deliberations, but im still proud of it and id still really love some comments.
Kevin Castro Oct 20
like golden honey i sink into your eyes
the runny liquid coating the throat of my vision
its sweetness runs amok and invades my palate
and pierces my airways
rendering even breath
thick with it substance
towards the shores of your pools
i swim
but the viscous fluid forbids my movement

and we begin to thirst for water
simple and noiseless water
bitter and bland water
to solve our sweetness

i’ve asked for too much, honey
Kevin Castro Dec 2018
I want to matter to someone far far away

To someone I have never met and could never really meet,
at least, not in person

To someone five steps and a ten minute train ride away from the taxis that can take them to the airport

To someone one way and three quarters around the globe

They're probably in Brazil. Or the Middle East.

To that someone, I want to be the feather that breaks the camel's back because the ****** beast is taking them somewhere they didn't want to go anyway.

Just a feather, not even a stone. Just tug, not even a real pull. Just a nudge strong enough to be noticed, so their head turns to the right direction.

To that person, I want to matter just that much. It will have meant that my life, or at the very least, my work mattered, and that's good enough.
im making this up as .i go along
Kevin Castro Apr 2018
He reached into the paper bag his friend handed over and pulled out a small picture frame.

“Do you want it?” his friend asked.

He turned it over carefully to see what was in the frame. Through the glass, he saw a beetle mounted in cotton, displayed along with a strip of paper that held its name. It looked like something good to have hanging in his room.

“Yeah, but why?” No one just gives away nice things. At least no one gives stuff away without a reason.
“Why, what?”
“Why are you just giving stuff away?”
“Oh,” silence, “I just don’t need it.”

It was a non-answer, a truism, something people say just to get people to asking questions without lying. That’s not enough, he thought. If there was anything he knew about his friend, it was that he liked to talk.

“Wait, so why don’t you need it?”
“Just take the whole bag. Maybe just give back the 3DS games”

He turned the frame around. There was a mark in the back, like someone tried to open it up with ballpoint pen that ran out of ink. Whoever made it gave up after one try but still managed to leave pinholes in the cardboard.

“Are you sure?”
“I think you’re asking too many questions for free stuff, guy”

He looked through his friend’s bag, wondering what else was inside. It was clothes, mostly, and ruffling through it wafted up a scent. The smell and the fabric, it was decidedly feminine to him. He had more questions, more thoughts to investigate.

A car, pulled over next to them. “My ride’s here,” his friend said.

He looked at the beetle. Its wing casings were a sickly yellow. He saw a few writhing brown dots come from under it. He felt sick. Maggots, he thought.

“Carlos,” he called out, handing back the bag, “I’ll keep the beetle”

His friend turned back, took the bag and left.
Kevin Castro Apr 2018
rested, sealed in a cloud.
through the panes of my reflection,
she lay still. preserved,
at a point in time.

carefully, it was made
a heaven for her,
black, against the snow,
a delicate frame.

freedom, hers was sought
in a vain attempt,
too easily, given up,
it left a desperate mark.

made to cut her loose

unnoticed, beneath her.
her eyes looked forward,
unrelenting, yet absent.
my gift remains pristine.

faded, her elytra
are pale and sickening.
yellowed, they conceal
many writhing guests.

unmoving, she remains,
but a stranger to life.
a gift, she is,
rotting from the inside.
here, i'm trying to project an effect or emotion through the use of imagery. if it's too hard to get what the thing im describing is, i'm not sure who's at fault .

bump pls critque me. also!! a hundred virtual (worthless) points to whoever can guess the exact thing im describing
Kevin Castro Apr 2018
my love, life is enormous

life is a creature with eight tails and six heads
life devours suns for breakfast and eats moons for desserts

you and I are the specks it feeds upon,
and at the same time it feeds us,
so life is made of people: friends, enemies,

loved ones,

so, love, life cannot be lived without people.
life cannot be lived without living all it has to offer

because life is enormous.
it is a creature
with more hearts than tails or heads
written while crying on the phone with my significant other who, at the time, seemed just about ready to break up with me. some edits were made and feedback would be very much appreciated.

— The End —