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Liz Alvarez Caba Mar 2019
Reality is a blur, a foggy consistant blur.
Everyday is the same melancholic routine.
10 on the dot.
One sunnyside up egg with a toasted sourdough slice.
Citrus tea with honey and an amusing podcast to prepare.
Slap on foundation and eyeliner, to look somewhat "happy" for a straining workday to come.
Thank god for the coming 4 hours there, my mind is of spotless.  
Not a thought of you comes inching in my deserted cold mind in those 4 hours.
As soon as I punch out and put away the fake smiles of the workday, you pop right up.
This in general is not bad in a way that I loathe you, the memory of you,
But bad in a way that I miss you.
Enormously.
The old routine was much more methodically medicore but it was pure *******, beyond happiness.
Up at 9, waffles with milk, with tv in the background.  
As I can not fathom the desire to be at work already.
Walking in, I longed to see your deep icy blues that just melted me instantly as soon as I saw them,
Into a puddle, there I go.  
Their target are aimed towards my ungraceful demeanor, it still shocks me through out my whole body.  
Tingling, Inviting and Warm.
Feelings I felt everytime you nearby, I instantly knew it was you.
Present day.
As I drive towards what seems to be another morrow towards the vapid and grave, I look for you.
I felt those blues that day of a party.
I felt them as I walked away from a group conversation.
I felt them as I mourned the loss of someone.
I felt those blues that first night.
The night we met.
Vanilla ice cream, in the cold air and a life changing experince we both intuned.
Instinctively, I trust its profoundly there to you too.
Even now and till your departing day.
I felt those blue eyes.
As much sorrow and grief it brings me always, and probably will be till my final and sweet death,
I dream back to the days I would walk in, and melt in my puddle, as I felt and longed for those icy blues.
I cant tell if your haunting me. Why cant this go away? Its been a couple of years since. And yet, there you are, always.
Mitchell May 2011
What voices were not heard
When the running herd
Galloped an left only
Three or four stragglers?

Are the dead worth nothing now?
Are we the same or any different?
How can one voice echo for eternity
And the other
Not at all?

Wise women crack their knuckles
Under a chap lipped cracking sun
Dust pours from the East
As the weary working children
Prepare their Feast

Neither normal nor medicore
Sore nor the bored
Can take away the soul
Of a commanding youth

Springs burst forth because they choose too
They listen
To no one
And know that not a book, policy or government fallacy
Can tell them otherwise

Is there no end to the evil anymore?
Have we reached the peak now can only hope
For a quick painless
Down pour?

Listen keenly to the watch wearing men who peddle their wears nowadays
There is a slight tone in their voice which has dropped
A breathe that wants to stop
But can't
Forcing them
To cop
I'm scared now
it'll always be the same
We'll lie about forever
argue and refuse to take blame
6 months of medicore happiness for it all end same
And six months more to make sure it cut the right vain
Two halfs of my heart lie on the bedroom floor
One half to be taken and the other half yearning to be complete once more
said an ICE and SNOW  FOUR SEASONS ****** to a Savannah and Jungle ******... about the SANDNIGGERS CAMELJOCKEYS...

did christianity precede the wheel?
just asking because
what do we have to thank
christianity for
and judaism
and monotheism
and arabism
and not persian and paganism
i ask you
in our ontology
for adventure
inquisitive genius
and all that
can't we have a breed
of creatures akin to pets
with heads of animals and bodies
of humans
taking care of us
like the old demigods
of ancient egypt
i mean geniuses
rather than angels or demons
i know a hell where
the darkest shows up
as the grey mundane
i know of a hell
or rather three
one of perpetual darkness
one of perpetual daylight
and one of equal alternations
but there is no warmth
of a fire
and the splendor of demonic
faces
there's only the mundane hell of
the Tall of Grey...
the mundane
the medicore...
mediocre
believe me
there's no Rock and Roll
tattoo in Hell
all the demons have left Hell to fight in
Heaven
all the Demons have left you
you are left with your own
Broken Echoes...
i have under-studied psychiatry
to paraphrase
a concept of para-military
to the State without the Church-State
but still focusing on the Church-State
that's the Vatican and not the Mayan Civilization
and the fact that these people still exist:
like coherent ****** proud
Sand *******
like the Jews...
   then who are we to judge decrepit wonky
daddy long legs pedophiles
i mean last time i checked he was with a girlfriend
or maybe he died
i mean how fake can you get
to ache
so ******* much...
                 i said it to believe it
then i unsaid it to know it
i bit into an apple from my garden
rather than taking a paracetamol
               and i think knowledge was yoke
and some cheese melting inside a cuck
and some dog chew in the cracked egg shell mantis...
how much *******
oh i know
plenty
esp. from jinn mad sand *******
i swear to you
those are the worst bullshitters
like the Jews saying: WE R NOT In CHARGE...
rigged ******* game
if you asked me:
******* off to another island...
England too Big
need BIG NEW SMALL...
******* off to Kauai...
let's see if your ******* banana boats
will get me there!
i want to see you try to get there
by boat... you ugly *******!

— The End —