Like the sky,
or my bed
Space between
you and me
Sometimes so close
and touching
Sometimes I
do not know
where you are
Press yourself against me
and stay,
finally stay.

A sun is not a sun
if there is no rain
What makes a light be
bright without the dark
sorrows of nothingness
What is light for
me might be
dull for her...
What is a sun with no rain?

We all have our vices, but you are not excused
Everything you've ever given me reeks of *****
I get it I guess, life is like a cage
But here you are, always caught up in rage
Promises for tomorrow are feeble excuses
When I know you think only on life's sweetest juices
It's okay though, continue letting me down
The funny part is I will never drown
Drag me across a road full of witches and thieves
But look at me, I have barely scrapped my knees
Toughness I see does not run in our blood
I face my problems like a sailboat in a flood
One thing I've learned since you've called me your baby:
Life is much better when you stop believing in maybe
The future before me is so big and so bright
Therefore I thank you for showing me the darkness of night
I hope that one day you learn to be brave,
And face your demons before your grave
Although my heart now will never beat quite right
I love you forever, without hate and no spite

Petal soft, your kiss.
Eternal, stained memories.
Cold as stone, your lies.

Un poco de tí, un poco de mí
lo que estuvo en mí se fue,
no lo ví salir, solo la nota y el beso dijeron adiós
y desde ese instante no supe más de tí.

Dejé que mi mente divagara y de mis tobillos cosí unas alas,
para que en mis días fríos el viento al volar me calmara, y así
no recordara tu voz, tu piel; divagaran por siempre en mi interior,
expulsarlo de un soplo y vivir tranquila cuando saliera el sol.

Words. They are my forte,
With them I can make works of art.
And what's best, I don't have to look a certain part.
With words, I can form an empire,
I could topple nations, even form a wildfire.

I was never good with speaking,
Always tripped up, got tongue-tied,
Words are like acid, making the world tie-dye.
And I'm the addict, just sitting there tweaking.

And I know, it probably doesn't sound good.
But if it's all the same to you,
Who decides what's good?
Me? Everyone else? No, it's whoever likes it. It may not be you.
So let me ask, what's your forte?

What is writing but a voice in a head,
unless read aloud?
Is it possible to say aloud what would be written without it being written down?
Talking, is it different then words I type...
Are the words I type different than spoken word?
Why would they be different if they stem from the same stem,
of a brain.
But they are different.



What more is written word
than an old old man talking slowly in order to be heard,
but ignored for taking time.
Is language written down an eddy spinning
out of pace with the rest of the river?
******* one in, immersing.

Does one have to prove themselves through their works in order to be listened to?

How many people are ignored because of a lack of productivity, because of a lack of time to be productive?

Money gives time to be taken,
with time one can produce and then be listened to,
no matter how slowly they talk.

Anyone can be listened to,
now.
just as long as they talk quickly,
nonsense may be but time lost none will see,
or take notice,
of something intelligent to say
if spoken slowly with eloquent ease.