Earth & metal, melting under the obsession of being,
Dissolving death & consequence, mirroring my green,
Like rage & despair, they settle for the walls of my veins,
Tainting my blood & caging me inside my bones,
Eyes & children lost their humor,
Pain amplified, bruised tears,
Compact surrender,
Love for this poison, the potential of relief & revenge,
The shaken & the colored,
Calmed spirits, not in areas of the unclear,
Content minds, never leaving their place,
Scattered brains, shot down,
You & your others, the nation of blood & killings,
The white roses, you’ve slapped ebony red.

I have never known of a man who loves a woman first.
Men have lusted after women first. They have been infatuated with the idealized objectification of a particular woman. They have even felt compassion and empathy towards a woman first.
But never have I known a man to love a woman first.
It is always the woman who shares her truest and purest, first and foremost. The man always follows a woman in the surrender to love, and never a moment sooner.

So, what’s up?
Well, if you insist; nothing much.
Except,
Every time I see you,
I feel like our destinies collide,
Like our souls beam promises,
Like a mother and her child,
Like the color yellow,
Every time my eyes glare, they paint you,
Furious and loving,
Our bodies frozen,
My mind undresses you as you take my hand and ask me: What’s up?
You ask me what’s up as if it sums up all the rivers of a nation,
As if it tells of sin and the humor of knowledge,
As if up is where I’m going and rock bottom isn’t drowning my thoughts,
As if my mother still wants me,
As if my father thinks the world of me,
As if my lover never forgot me,
As if you want my answer,
What’s up?
What’s up with you?
What’s ahead of you? What’s above you?
Who watches over you?
What’s the sky like when heaven is nowhere in sight?
When pain eats away at sobriety,
When silence cracks minds and noise breaks glass faces,
What’s up?
I’m just alive,
... Inhale
You laugh because you think I said something funny,
I can’t tell you I haven’t looked up in a while,
I haven’t wondered about fairies and fairytales,
About what’s beyond this cloud, this sun, those barriers,
What’s up?
What’s up isn’t what I know,
What I know isn’t up,
Ask me once again,
Ask me who didn’t leave,
Who hears my words,
Who saw my tears,
When did I grow,
When did I fall,
Do I prefer tea over coffee,
Ask me of a universe I know nothing about,
A heaven my feet haven’t touched,
A thought that hasn’t crossed my mind,
Ask of persons lost, matter gained,
Piercings, physiology, my people’s faces,
Ask me once more,
What’s up?

We lost,
We lost sons,
We lost land, time and destinies,
We walked away from a fight,
In another life, it would be fair,
Fortunes would live inside dreams, inside blood, inside reason,
Trees hugged the concrete,
Heavy oaths,
Leave them behind,
We are in a life,
We are without soul,
We are perfection,
No longer real,
A river, an ocean, an incognito body of water,
A step,
A ticket,
A son,
I forget,
Something fair,
I choose fair,
The impasse of the skin,
The killer of eyes,
I remember,
I am a dancer of treasures,
I am a dancer of pride,
I steal souls,
I steal minds,
Not like mine,
Not like my voice,
We were high,
We are above, 

Through and transfixed,
We died,
Our sons died, 
Our sons burn,
Our sons, the withered.

The red corners of his eyes,
The callus tips of his skin,
The man must move,
Must work,
Must ****,
The man of ages,
The man for days,
Must suffer,
Must persist,
The glass covered bones,
The iron clad flesh,
The windows,
The lights,
The man must destroy,
The man must conquer,
The man above you,
Is the man around you,
The man must carry on.

The space she took in your bed, on your shelves, in the curses and the vows,
She hasn't been here, nor was she ever moving towards that direction,
You imagine the door she could walk through, the locks she wouldn't open,
The glances she wouldn't care to return, the loose garments that cover chapters she patiently learned,
She spoke of home and heavy promises,
But never to you,
She grows, filling the last pages of her people's books,
You paint her, you picture her,
She isn't clear but she is unforgettable,
You believe completely in her vision,
She knows things about you, about your death and about her desire to be your death,
You wait for her peace to bring you yours,
For the stillness of her mind to free yours,
Something isn't right with her, she isn't predetermined,
She isn't wind nor water nor an element of the changing sort,
Still, she isn't predetermined,
There isn't a thing on the planets nor skies that moves like her,
That dances with your art's rhythm like she does,
She flows with you, away from you,
Remember when she melted the black and red of you canvas,
She found love in your lines and detested the corners of the devilish margins,
She learned your craft from you and she mastered its perfect flaws,
Blame the times words weren't spoken,
Blame the splendor splatter of skin, the patterns of resistance,
Why won't she dance for you, flow towards you?
Was it the thought she overheard?
You couldn't tell if she was drawn or carved or weaved,
Did she step into your box?
Hollow out your venal lust,
You chase after the scents, the shadows, the colors,
You make out what her soul must look like,
She isn't sane, she isn't clever,
She is a fallacy, a fake,
She can't not see when her long verses cover your floors,
She can't not feel when she bends and twists to the indentations of your palms,
You touch the places she left for the stars to find,
You answer questions her path left discarded,
You believe, you know,
She refuses to linger around you, and why should she?
Your strung out desires are romanticize by your brush strokes,
But your flesh demonizes passion itself,
Your reality kills your art, and she loves only your art.

What’s in a name?
I ask because I’ve never known your name,
Like a maddened Alice, I draw hearts on my books,
With nothing at the depth of them,
Strokes of Cupid,
I’ve never known your name,
Never seen the hands that would hold my children,
Nor the eyes that stars gaze at,
I’ve never had your skin brush against mine,
My feet have never stepped on your trail and I’ve never uttered a word to you,
I don’t even know if you exist,
But I know you,
I know the kindness and the serenity of your soul,
The number of time you would forgive me,
The way I would hold you when you need me to,
But I’ve never known your name,
And what’s in a name?

You walk the halls of the universe, wander galaxies far,
Where death doesn't happen and past, future, myth and fate intertwine on sheets of light and covers of darkness,
But you walk the halls of a deviant mind, dead for ages now,
And the pulse in your wrist is a hollow drum's thud, where nothing but a false living keeps you from a hereafter,
You aren't the one nor only, nor are you the last,
I've been wondering about your wicked dreams and when would you see that my walls protect the dead,
I've wondered if you ever held a gun to your head but your visions of seconds after paralyzed the trigger,
Have you seen it all? Do you know it all? Is this it all?
Do your shadows hide your empty eyes?
Does the music in your head repeat the words "What else"?
How many undone thoughts and broken limbs?
Are you sorry you never came back when your body stays?
That your feet refuse to move from a place that isn't yours anymore,
That you never got back your soul that went with its own winds,
The ineluctable pause when people realize it's a game not a life,
The parenthesis that cage your anger but leave a new line for the inevitable despair,
The slow breathing of an unexcitable, uninspired person,
A dead one.

Sometimes in our journey, we meet strangers that we feel a kinship to; for no other reason than their existence. We wonder if we should put in some effort to get close to them, if we should go there and ask them if they want to grab a cup of coffee or something. And then the rest of life and its people get in the way. You're busy and distracted, but you still feel that tug. You let life take its course; if you're meant to know each other, you will. You have an arrogance that tells you: You're life is busy, they'll wait. All the while, that's exactly what their ego is telling them. So when time comes to pass and you've drifted apart, all you have to show for is a Facebook Friendship.

Have you seen beauty?
I ask you,
I plead this unseen eye of the beholder,
Show me beauty
Tell me of passion,
Paint it across my windows,
Paint my bones into beautiful,
Mold an angel out of ash and soul,
That is who I am really,
Ash and soul,
Have you seen beauty?
It is, It is, It is
It is the death of your mother,
The loss of your assets,
The hunger of your mind,
The convolutions of your gut,
The impairment of sight,
The ignornance of rythm,
Bury beauty,
Bury conception,
Bury gifts and wounds,
Bury reminders, memos, alarms, missedcalls
Burn a planet,
Take its kind lovers and send them to a white light,
a blue earth,
an earth ripe,
Have you seen beauty?
I ask you beacuse I have,
With eyes shut and heart open,
In you,
Molded, kind angels of ash and soul.

This time, just for once, I’ll walk away,
This time, unlike all other times, I’ll admit to defeat,
This time, I’ll scream & shout,
I’ll do it my way,
This time, I’ll deserve better,
This time, I’ll get stronger,
I’ll bleed my wounds,
I’ll fade my shine,
I’ll even talk about it,
But just like all the other times,
This time, too, I am the one I hurt…

My mother doesn't remember my first memory,
It was of her lying in bed,
Facing the window,
Eyes closed to the sun,
Back to me,
I built a perfect square in the corner,
Blocks of color made uniform,
I looked back at her,
I did good mama I thought,
But my words melted,
I swallowed them back down because I thought,
Maybe today she didn't,
My mother doesn't feel my first instinct,
It was of me thinking our souls didn't match,
And neither did our words,
But those are all that was given to me,
I would've taken more but these things were never for the taking,
My mother doesn't understand my first steps,
They were out the door of the rusted familiar and down the jagged steps of the unknown,
Why would you wander?
I gave you all the things that bring comfort,
But she never did give comfort,
My mother doesn't see my biggest fear,
That I scorched myself out of my colors,
Maybe a perfect square wasn't enough,
Maybe it had to be all red or all blue,
My mother doesn't get my first regret,
That I didn't get to choose her,
But neither did she,
And the ones I did choose,
I can't help but to love the way I love you,
I can't help but to build squares in the corner hoping they still see the colors.

He said,
With eyes closed and hands stretched out,
He said I can't feel anything but the air between us,
The bitter taste of nothing,
I thought this time it would work,
I thought my stretched-out hands would touch something,
Anything,
Anything,
Any. Thing.
He said,
I can't feel the skin I'm supposed to,
I can't break through your bones,
I can't break through mine,
It's not you,
It's this, he said,
This whole thing,
This hole in me,
I tried to fill it,
Bury it with this and that,
Nothing would fit,
Nothing,
Nothing,
No. Thing.
But the air between us.

I want to tell him,
It's not a hole,
It's not your end,
You will carry it, but you will have to realize,
It's not a hole,
It's not in you,
It's an ocean,
It's an ocean,
Dulling everything outside,
Laying you across its stammering waves,
And you might feel like you're drowning,
And it might feel like you're not here,
But the air between us,
I promise to give it all to you,
I promise to force it down your lungs,
I promise that you will hate me,
But I promise to keep you alive,
I promise you will see yourself through this,
I promise to hold you when you reach the shore,
And I would promise so much more,
But it's not my hole to fill,
It's not my ocean to swim,
I would if I could,
But I know better,
I'll show you better,
There is a shore,
There will be an end,
And I promise all this,
Even the air between us,
Even if it's from my own lungs,
I promise it until you reach my shore.

Lie,
Say those pretty things,
Tell them they are real,
Set them besides your window,
Let them grow,
Down your roots,
Into your blood,
Out your lungs,
Like a child,
Believe they will reach the sky,
Bend to the light,
Let them stand the test of time,
Let them test you,
Let them be,
Lie.

What I know to be true,
What I hope will be,
Sometimes they collide,
And the brilliance of it all,
The blinding splendor,
Covers the silhouettes of all the was,
Empties the fear out of me,
As if it never was,
But the light,
It's the kind that dies when it touches the ground,
It's the kind that reminds you of how small it is,
That no matter how bright it might be,
It will always have me in its way,
And I am the fault in it,
I am the grain that never will be a pearl,
I am the straw that never will be the needle,
I am not meant to see it,
It's blasphemy if I do,
And that is,
What I know to be true.