Someday
I’m going to be able to recite the line
“My favorite life is…
mine.”
and I’m going to believe it.
I’m going to have kids.
I’m going to visit Asheville, North Carolina a second time around.
And I’m going to reminisce about the time I ran away the summer I turned 17.
Because I needed to see mountains.
Because their dust had floated into my bones and tied themselves snug around my joints, and the magnet pulling me back had started to hurt.

Christina met you
on the playing field
after lunch in recess
the sun was warm

butterflies went by
clouds white puffs
moved over head
I saw you playing cricket

this morning
from the classroom window
during domestic science
Christina said

standing there
in your whites
your hands behind your back
looking bored

if I had known you were watching
I’d have waved
you said
you were not long batting

she said
after sitting down on the grass
pulling you down beside her
by the hand

no not my best performance
you said smiling
how good
is your best performance?

depends what I’m doing
you said
but not batting?
she asked

no not batting
you replied
looking at her hair
dark and well kempt

her lips parted just so
her white teeth showing
you kiss well
she said suddenly

do I?
you said
yes you do
but you could always do

with practice
yes I suppose so
you said watching Rolland
kicking ball with other boys

across the way
your sister said
you keep my photo
on the bedside cabinet

by your bed
Christina said
yes I do
not my best photo

but it’s the only one
I could sneak out
of the house
without the parents

noticing
Rolland scored a goal
passing the ball
by a kid between

two coats
do you kiss it at night?
she asked
kiss what?

the photo my photo?
only if my brother’s not looking
you said
but otherwise you do?

yes long as wet
you said
and she laughed
and crossed her legs

and you caught a glimpse
of her thigh
I’d like to take you home
for lunch again soon

if I can get my mother
in a good mood
not when she’s depressed
she said

that’d be good
you said
she leaned forward
and took your hand

and drew you near her
and kissed you
on the lips
girls nearby giggled

and you looked over at them
feeling shy but warmed
don’t mind them
she said

they’re just green
with envy
you looked away
from the girls

and saw Rolland
score another goal
and a cheer went up
but they were lost

from view
when Christina
with feverishly hot lips
kissed you.

These Stairs. Stairs. Stairs. Stairs.
They keep getting longer,
and I keep dragging myself up them,

They form a spiral, but it's an inefficient shape.
It's constantly growing and shrinking.There is no end to the illusion. Illusions will never be as they seem.

I'll be pulling a heavier weight. I'm pulling a heavier weight I'm pulling myself. I'm pulling myself. I'm dragging my feet.
I'm exaggerating my movements. I'm exaggerating my words.

It's growing. Growing. Growing.
Like an infesting species to a house.
I'm crawling. I'm crawling. This is too much. This is too much. This is too long. This is too long. Too much. Too long. Too much. Too long.

These stacks of neverending words grow, and I tell myself to stop saying the biggest words that come to mind.
I tell myself to forget my pride. If I ever want to reach the top, I must.

They are so hard to decipher, but I can't stop climbing them, trying to conquer the enquizative knowledge of my insanity.
I keep stepping. Stepping. Stepping. Stepping.
I slowly drag my weight. Drag. Drag. Drag.

I slowly find myself climbing the words. Climb. Climb. Climb. Verb after verb. Trying to signal rhyme after rhyme. But, to my horror, when I reach the top.

There is nothing but a shadowed surface, filled with mistakes and tragedies. There is nothing but a reflection. Nothing but a small, skinny girl. And, to my horror, I realize,

IT IS ME.

worthless and weak
I strive for perfection, pulling it off flawlessly.
Yet there's always something missing.
The glass can never be full.
They see the light I give them
never revealing the shadow behind
Once the the last star is stolen
The darkness swallows me whole
and now lies the proof
help once more I wispier
I look back, seeing nothing
I become an abyss
Falling down waiting for the crash
When he takes my hand
Weak and worthless
He gives me light to treasure and hold
a peace of him to long and behold
to stitch back together a broken little girl
Restoring the stars in her eyes
I dance away smiling
Strong and beautiful

Each day gets brighter, while my eyelids slowly glide to the ground.
Summer is here but all I see are gray skies & snowy roads.
The world is calling my name but you can't hear the screams from where my heart is located.
I gasp for air every couple of seconds, but god's disguised hands keep pushing me back underwater.
The further I run away, the closer I get.
All of the lights go out right as I arrive to the last chapter.
I am burning down as my house just stands there & watches.
The one thing that would actually pour water on me to put the fire out was the one thing that had no access to it.
I get told "congratulations" & all I hear is "stop smiling".
Love turns to dust & death turns to sunflowers
(Sunflowers were her favorite).
Holidays do not exist anymore.
Days do not exist anymore.
Time stands still, as my thoughts run in place.
Forbidden memories have come outside to play.
Only pens that have runout of ink can truly express my thoughts.
Life as we all know it is pulling back the curtains, & taking its final bow.

ps - the sun only seems to shine on the days that I have no willpower to bring my eyes to the surface; & the scent of her palms was the only thing worth noticing

what does never
(pull away pull away)

I'm capable of pulling a Plath or two
no I Really don't want to have dinner for one
i'll take seats for two please regardless of if anyone ever if ever shows up if shows up i ever as I ever was
lonely very very lonely right
here

yes please waitress I'll take a beer no wait a Coke please
while i wait here like an Echo waiting to be repeated who is this
why are you here (dance on and on to whatever song beautiful truly beautiful)

i'll be 20-something before time catches up to realize my words
the publication of dreams may become a reality and suddenly like a flash of thunder i become a white light
help me spread some sunshine because god knows that is why i sit here lonely
very very lonely

last night i had a dream about a truck and a gun
and i saw your beautiful face from far away and I wanted to rub it and hold you and love you forever and ever(i could never see you withanyoneelse)
i controlled batteries with my mind and charged the moon in the night
and I didn't ever want to die and there was a whisper and a shadow and a gun who killed the driver
and mine didn't work so i took the wheel sealed the deal and crashed it
due to the whisper
through that i was bathed into immortality reincarnation of flames

then i woke up lying next to you on a sunny day in the grass and Nature smiled
you were smiling and i was smiling 'ahhhhhh i have been reborn' i screamed in joy
and i drowned in her kiss and i was alive when i awoke i was all alive

but the day was the Ruin and all i wanted to do was see her
all day i could not find time to talk to engage
(lonely very very-
wandering around i felt nothing not nothing but something is nothing and nothing is something

at the holy water at the end of the day i saw her wanting to approach her
but i could not turning around like a spiraling out Fibbonaci
very lonely

i think i'm five years from now
sitting here table for one wishing for two
dearest Catullus you must have missed your brother so much
I'll pull a Plath if I have to

They say no love is perfect.
How could anything be imperfect
When love is pulling even the frailest of
Strings attached?

Whether that be a lifeline, a noose, or the
Electrical cord to its own
Respirator, its final word would be
A smiled whisper of either

Hope or rememberance.
Gratitude is grace.
Even diamonds decompose.
Breath gives meaning to air.

I never asked forgiveness
nor sought a willing shrink
but maybe I should do so now
it even hurts to think.

For love's almighty glory
has shredded me once more
and left my heart in pieces
shattered on the floor.

I'm given to dramatics
of this I gladly know
so safe to say, my darlin'
my pain is on full show.

But what of real misfortune?
Of those who have no hope
who scavenge in the gutter
then swing unto the rope?

I am far less noble
and have no cause to moan
so why, pray tell me someone
am cut right to the bone?

So, I'm pulling up my bootstraps
and putting on a smile
'cos love will come back for me
in a little while.

Of this I am quite certain
'cos it rarely leaves forever
and when I see its winsome face again
an artery I'll sever.

To start the tiresome process
on my own and rightful terms
and while facing certain death
I shall enjoy the burn.

Of a lover's retribution
to put me to the stake.
So here's some flesh and bone, my love,
take what you must take.

Guess 'til then I'll just keep livin'
***** my mental health!
I've got a life of poetry
to get the **** over myself.

I'm all alone**
No one is here to stop me pulling the trigger
When I decide that life isn't worth it
When I feel that I should just end
Dying all alone
No one is here to catch me
When I fall into the pits of hell
Crying my eyes out
As the fire burns my arms and legs
No one is here to save me
When I drown in my own sadness
When my tears change into anchors
Dragging me to the deepest parts of the ocean
No one is here to rip my mask off
The one which has a dripping red smile on
Which everyone gladly believed
Despite red paint falling at their feet
No one is here to tell me I'm worth it
To call me a jewel
Precious
Unique

That's just it
No one is here for me
I'm all alone

Red shoes on black carpet.
She skips across the floor, hands together pulling her small body forward.
From room to room she hustles, skirt all about her, not bothering to fix her hair.

I can see her in my dreams, with unclouded eyes she looks back at me.
She smiles at me in my dreams, and when I dream of her withdrawls do not wake up.

She is my *****.
She is more beautiful than the flower
and has the *** appeal of the powder.

I wish I could tell you what it's like
To feel this way, so lost and alone
To have every cell in my body
Ache for affections most unnatural.

I wish I could make you understand
What it's like to jealousy and longing
Pulling at my limbs
Hoping to tear me in two.

If only I could make you see
My world through my eyes
How foreign and scary
And how wonderful you are to me.

If only my world wasn't so lonely.
If only there weren't such a vast ocean
Within the three feet between us

With nothing in mind, on the soft green ground
While gazing around inside of a dream
Squinting of Sun, inhaling of sounds
Relaxed, next to a running river's gleam
Serene and sedated, the rustling of leafs
A lease - eternal, an ease inside
A polished, pure and perplexing peace
I slowly sway into the swallowing sky

Sounds of the gush and the wingless glide
Divided between blue and beautiful bright
A meeting of mountains and stars magnified
Below - a haze. Above - the great light
The delight of the earth, protruding and proud
Shrouded silhouettes and gorges that glow
Maps of the sky, echoers of sound
Transport me down to the wet below

Floating on top of the swirling blue salt.
Exalted beyond the liquid haze.
The deepest doors of this massive vault.
A conversation with the warping waves.
A daze of darkness in this alien waste.
Embraced in unknown - pulling me down.
A captive buoyancy with calm erased.
The essence of life, in which I will drown.

Finally, walls, blank and opaque.
The ache of vast indifferent time.
With a failed past comes a future vague.
Measured only by its dangling decline.
Maligned touches of world-less colour.
The collar of emptiness. The forever nothing.
Blacked out details unnecessarily smothered.
A ruined illusion of caring for something.

Sometimes I wish I had something different
Every piece of art is made with deliberates but from intuition
Just like my life
Every decision is thought out but in reality
Its timing and final say is on the way I feel that day
And so many and so much sway
My mood pulling it like the sea to moon
It’s never free, I’m always high tide in emotion
Sometimes I wish I had something different
That mathematical precision that some people just have
But intuition just feels right
I can’t shake something that is so much part of me
I wonder if mathematical precision could explain
High tide that that never turns

i've some power fingers terribly monstrous
knuckle deep in

hair too,thickhair

in bunched fist

strung tighter

pulling
pullling tighter(and from where parts

monsters powerfully

                                        

                                          )


wait instantly unsleeping
at a little slick with spit
lips between lips barely
teeth press and press and

monsters (unsleeping instantly)



                  ReleaseD

The yellow aura
spiraled my night elf hunter avatar
as the DUN-DUMM
of false accommplishment
incited my addiction to
instant gratification.

I had just Leveled up.

The quest giver
gave me a choice

****** boots
Or
a less ****** Dagger

I took the ****** boots
because
**** the system
they looked cooler.

I was going to stomp cave spiders anyway,
what's the point of relinquishing
looking **** fine.
for an extra Attack Point?

****** Boots.

****** boots ALL Day long.

A naked human avatar
dances
facing a naked gnome
Named: "Buzz Lightyear"
He is Also dancing,
at crotch height.

This is Typical starting zone
foolery

I stayed up
watching Toonami all night
Naruto, Bleech, Inuyasha.
I could tell the sun came up
not because there was a window in my Kitchen,
there wasn't.

Tom and Jerry came on.
everyone knows
when Tom and Jerry came on
you were no longer pulling an
"all nighter."
You're pulling a
"Drink enough Soda
to get through the rest
of the day-er"

My entire diet
these past two days
has consisted of Gushers & Vault
because
Clearly Coca-Cola is superior
to Pepsi.

Therefore, Vault
was superior to Mountain Dew.
Which is the typical choice drink
of my internet brethren.

I don't know why I dyed my hair black nobody online could see it
But it made me feel
more
like my Night Elf Avatar

I wanted long white hair
I realized that's impossible
in 6th grade
So I Bought & Settled for Black
At least I could be like
"L" from death note,
Long sleeve white shirt, jeans
with no shoes.

I could also be
any other black-haired charecter
From any other angsty Anime
Because of course I loved angsty Anime
Because I held my cell phone like "L"
From Death Note.

I always dreamed
of this singing venus fly trap.

A Fuzzy Memory with a lost Origin
I realized seven years later
the Singing venus flytrap in my head
was AUDREY 2
from Little Shop Of Horrors.

Netflix reunited us in College
Audrey 2 finally Serenaded Me.
I listened with Voyeuristic Intentions
As memory saprilings grew
into the full songs
relieving the void in my soul
Lingering for a Man to be attacked
by a singing venus fly trap
in his own kitchen.

But only once,
Because I firmly beleived
movies should only be seen once
until I stopped
dyeing my hair black.
Despite watching Space jam
more times than any kid born in 1995 Should have
but still
all the kids born in 1995
watched space jam
more than any of them should have
because they were born in 1995.

Apparently
when I first saw little shop of horrors
it aired just before osmosis jones.

I love osmosis jones
almost as much as I love
Buzz lightyear, of Star Command

Buzz lightyears robot companion XR
reminded me of Cyberchase
and to this day Cyberchase
is the best show to watch
when you have no idea
who Gilbert Godfrey is.

Zoombinis is better
than oregon trail.
and also better
than Tom and Jerry.
but not better
than leveling my night elf Hunter.
Named:
"FEED ME A PIZZA!"

I think I spent more time
getting my Zoombinis
to look just right
then I Spent deciding
what outfit to wear

Routine
Black striped Hoodie
Unwashed and worn every day
Grey skulls all over it, because
of course it had grey skulls all over it.
Black pants.
Black socks
No actually, THESE black socks.
Okay, got gushers
and my Coca-Cola.

I now take as much time
to choose my outfit as
designing the perfect Zoombini.
however I have yet to replace
my legs
With
a skateboard.

I think that every grade before sixth grade is fourth grade
and 6th grade is basically 7th grade
which is to say my memory skips them both
to remember ending eighth grade

I miss being cool on the Internet
Whilst lame and forgotten in real life.

like black sock
wasn't quite as good
as that other Black sock.

I wanna go back.
To the seperation
Of who we pretend to be
Vs. who we actually are.
To be dramatic again.
incomparable.

An ideal self on the internet
Who is obviouslly not the real you
is decades more comforting
than Some Characatureized
Facebook Profile.

Today I was offered a choice

Work A minimum wage job
or
continue my useless college degree.

I decided to write a poem, because
**** the system.
If I am to Decide where to respawn from
Let it be poetry.

There is no spiraling Yellow aura
or DUN-DUMM

Sometimes there is snapping though.
Or a lost memory
of A singing venus Fly Trap.

I am a pretend person.
An avatar
just now, I have skin.
You can touch me
I breath without a Macro
or even pressing any keys.

I cannot bring myself to
Watch Space Jam again.
I can Identify Gilbert Godfrey's voice.
I will buy my children zoombinis
And it will collect dust
When all they want
Is to watch the fifth Toy Story movie
Way more than any kid born in 2020 should.
And all the kids born in 2020
Will Watch the fifth Toy Story Movie
Way more than they should
because they
will have been born
in 2020.

And I will rant
about the Missing LGM
and Warp Darkmatter
betraying Buzz Lightyear
By joining Evil Emperor Zurg
So Buzz was forced
to get three new Partners
Princess Mira Nova
Audrey 2
and Osmosis Jones.
because I will have Forgotten
Booster & XR.
Because Booster and XR
Never made a ******* Facebook Profile.

Nobody exists anymore.
We are all represented by our avatars
holding ourselfs up to the standards
of our photoshopped reflections

Being disappointed and overwhelmed

I Take pills to forget that I am
Acting Like myself
but can't find any evidence of Existing.
Besides these memories
of who i used to be.

I want my internet persona
to be nothing like me
So that I may focus on myself
in the real world coherently.

I want thick black lines
dividing mental Venn diagrams

I want Tom and Jerry
To signal me
That it is morning, again.

last winter
at a downtown coffee shop
I sat on the bar stool near the window

I watched the people on the sidewalk
pulling their coats and scarves around their necks
keeping the wind out

I sipped a peppermint tea, a temporary comfort,
and watched
as they entered their apartment towers
moments later, high up, a window would light up with a yellow glow

a far away
warm, bright, home

and I’m looking at them, and I know, that I should go on
to wherever it is that hearts go on to
that it’s not doing me any good to sit here
wishing for a brightness of my own

but,

what’s hope for if not this?
I’m not sorry
I can’t be sorry
I won’t be sorry
that I’m going to stay awhile
looking at the lights in the windows
of everyone else’s home

i will always be there to clean up the spills on the carpet
from our drunk friends on new year’s eve
and i will always ask before i throw glass bottles in the garbage
i won’t say that your outfit doesn’t match
but i’ll tell you if the tags are sticking out
and if your hair refuses to lie flat
i will always yell at you for going outside
without a coat, and i will always ask you
to slow down when you’re on your third beer
i will always worry about your rickety old car
that you never clean, and i will always worry
when you tell me your stomach kept you up at night.
there is nothing you can do that would make me
stop pulling up the blankets under your chin,
stop telling you not to drive so fast,
stop cheering you on at every opportunity.
i will always be there, ready to fit the stubborn sheet
around the mattress.
i will always be there,
picking up the bottlecaps.

I know it makes you sob, but please try to understand.
We’re pulling dead bodies out of ditches again, we, being I,
you’re just watching again, you’re always just watching, again.
This road isn’t familiar, maybe it’s just the glare of the headlights
The street is a dance of white hot diamonds on my bare feet,
does the heat mean its summer again?
You’re waiting for me again, but you’re never waiting for me again
You’re pulse is keeping rhythm with my footsteps,
There are so many more bodies that are calling for me
But there you are again, speaking my name.

I don’t know how to love someone like you.
You are a waltzing fire, crackling in the moon light as rowdy teenagers throw empty beer cans into your flames.
I am an unopened book, untouched pages that have yet to feel the yearning hands of someone longing to read my story.
You don’t know how to love someone like me.
I am a soft breeze, birthing flowers and gently sweeping down the colors of autumns prime.
You are a tornado, turning a beautiful sky into destruction, tearing down homes and pulling up the roots I worked so hard to plant.
Maybe we don’t belong together.
Maybe I’ll wake up and realize you burned my pages or tore my flowers.
Maybe you’ll fall asleep and realize that my paper will not fuel you forever or that my wind is too weak to carry your debris.
I don’t know how to love someone like you.
You don’t know how to love someone like me.
But I’m willing to try if you are.

Skies stretch sparks to light the damp ground
And I watch, chuckling by the lambs
Lapping the waves that smack tastily at their feet
And bring in the harvest for the day.

The sun bows its head
And sea makes its sleep
For it to hide amongst the bubbles
Until the Night claps it awake.

Footprints stretch up the beach made
Of arrowheads and other cobbled things
You're there, you're there
Pulling me to your place.

Warm, shivering houses, of
Wooden overcoats and salty lashings
Made wind by fervent tides
Desperate to huddle in and hear stories

Of your uncle, your father, your brother's ruddy cheeks,
But you have eyes with me
And we lend them together to the fire
To hear of orcs, of brochs and angry kings, far away.

The howling streets meet no one,
And pirates prowl their decks to see
A glimpse of my island girl
As she holds my arm cased in wool

Blond hair crying to the floor.

For I am a story, you see, I know what I have when I have it
And salt, quiet lamp-lit salty living
Make ancient ages while keeping,
The mainland for themselves.

Good thing I have her,
So I can share in what she calls home
So I can lie in the lavender in Summer
And cry with the Winter rain when she's gone.

I'm still so ******* bitter about it and I can't relax, not even a little,
I wonder if this is what a toy feels like when its batteries run dry,
Getting pushed into fight or flight without any warning, without even having any wings to fly,
So anxious I'm throwing up the flowers you grew from your chest,
I picked every one of them with my mouth but maybe I should've just left them alone because everything will die in the end and now I know who's fault it is

I got hurt and I'm just trying to fix myself, please stay away from me, I'm no good and you're no better, I don't have a single grudge to take,
I'm going ******* manic, I'm setting my body on fire and eating the ashes,
I'm pulling my stomach apart and digging my own grave,
I'm hungry for blood and I'm vicious,
I'm sick and getting worse, even though my friends and family pray for the better, I don't wanna say too much, it's better that way

We have nothing better to do than break our hearts on each other,
We're lonely and hurt and this is all we need,
Mr. Hangman, go get your rope,
Protect your lovers, we are nothing but slippery slopes,
We can hug and lust and kiss and **** but once we love, it's all downhill from there,
I can feel this disease flowing through our hair and it feels like there's something in our mouths, like we're breathing it in through the air,
I can feel myself breathing you in and I'll keep doing it until my lungs collapse, nothing's fair

They say in heaven there's no husbands or wives,
And the day I show up to the gates I wonder how many of them will be surprised,
Just know I won't have a phone to call you but I'll do everything an angel possibly can to stop the hurting in your minds,
None of us deserve to die but then again not all of us really feel alive

So if I die before I wake, I pray my poetry says the things I can no longer say

With all his World pulling him back,still
He left for the other side one fine morning,
He was a traveler and that's the best he could be.

With hunger and thirst ruling all the way
he did not give up to seek something that
can fill his emptiness that he felt being in
the middle of everyone with everything.

With wandering eyes he saw the world like
a baby bird first opened it's eyes getting surprised
at every steps he took,everywhere he went.

But one day while wandering here and there
he met a beautiful girl somewhere at the corner
of the earth and immediately fell for her charming beauty,
her mesmerizing lips,her integrity and grasp over making
dull things into attracting events.

He spoke out his heart to her and started to get
closer and closer and he was reciprocated likewise.
Even she got drawn to him hearing his mind blowing
Stories of traveling the world alone.

Every thing was so perfect,but here comes the traveler
into act and defeats the lover and said to himself-
"Oh dear lover,I have still got to see so much world
around ,dont stuck to her.lets leave,thats how you started
from and thats what you are,make yourself free and
make the journey to the unseen,you can not stay with her"  

With every possible love existing inside him,he
Chooses to go.He knew this could be his lifetime
spending with this lady but he has to leave now.
But the unseen world keeps more joy for him
than to sink into this never ending beauty, and finally
he decides to go.

I dont know whether they met again or not.
but I say when and how can a true lover
and an honest traveler co exist?

I know i tend to fixate on problems that don't matter
Only wishing i could go back before disaster even happened
Some people need to learn, to learn from mistakes made
Hypocrisy says i do that one thing every **** day

In preaching a solution and trying to make it apply
I happily problem-repeat I know the truth not the reasons why
Pushing at an answer for all my unknown questions
I ask too much yet not enough to feel slightly pressured

Second guessing my responses and accepting all the consequences
Similarly, weighing  50/50 on my consciousness
A problem-less probability of dealing with **** peacefully
Is like changing the definition of equality to equity

Everywhere i go i walk slow, just to breathe in the air
Walking with a swagger listening to Marshal Mathers like i don't care
What you think of me, keep talking the talk
I'll stride on by because i walk the sidewalk while y'all just stop and gawk
Staring at my hungrily like a fish to a ravenous hawk
I'm a Phoenix mother f*er it's a competition, of the squawk!

Like it's only my fault, just hoping to live a life
I'm not squatting in the shadows like a motorcycle with no brake line
You're wheeling out of control, wheezing coz of all you smoke
You wanna whittle at it and puff puff but your throat catches and chokes!

Gripping at all your lost dreams like trying to grasp sand
Time up, ticked over, read the back of my packet to understand
Trying always to make the best of a real bad situation
Like pulling rainbows and silver clouds from a city lost to mayhem

I turn to the TV and turn it on, another twenty dead
Because a Middle Eastern man let religion get to his head
That sort of **** sticks to me like glue to overused shoes
A few years old and growing mould, worn and torn under daily abuse

Another case of law and order failing at justice
Because people will talk tall **** just to evade the clutches
Did you know its a 497 cash fine,
For running red lights
Yet some mother got 500 for baby bashing crimes?!

She took straight to the Internet, said she'd do it all again
This stays straight on my mind like wedded couples wearing golden rings
Quite simply put, the system has me shook
Prisoners behind bars and crooks running free like headless chooks!

Maybe you're starting to sense a little something in what I say
If not then just for you I'll become religious, bless you and pray
That maybe someday, you'll glare past the flashing red signs
And meet it with a gaze like a good student meets every deadline

Sophistication is the message hiding behind my words
If you refuse to look further than death and dirt you won't witness the hurt
It takes time for mad rhymes stuck to brainwaves like lifelines
To resign, and reappear from the pen to padded paper lined

And it's even harder putting the pieces in place
This is a jigsaw puzzle, such trouble is a thousand mistakes
But align them like a cosmic balance; and there you have it
Another visionary hole for a dead and dying rabbit

*It's clear to me,
You can't see
What is going on inside my mind

So here i stand,
Do what i can,
To show the scars of what claws inside

It's clear to me
You can't see
The cogs turning gears inside my mind

So here i stand,
Pen and paper in hand
To read you the words between the lines

Lest my tongue be burnt
and all words I loved disowned
as children tossed out
from the mouth that cradled them
to wander foreign countries alone,
I caress from the creases of my fingers

my english,
this full length mirror
a street girl carries crooked
under her arm and breast--
a horizontal slant nuder than flesh
making meaning in flashes.

Where is it going, bumping along?
Jarred and crashing and beaming
like a throwing up or endlessly exacerbated jazz.

The singer who could charm the world
with a humble reed, must indeed
be in love with words,

yet always this english
why is it you hold out in your upturned hand
precisely what you are at once pulling away,
as if no where pleased you to linger
and so you congeal at the table with us
neither shining nor dissipating,
like a dark matter.

I sang for the certainty of mahogany
the solidity of brass:
where you would meld back into lake
be healed to the pond's surface,
permanently affixed to sky
given back to the unopposed silence
where they might remember us in times to come.

Shattered soldier in the middle of nowhere
with a body tattered of forgotten kisses
battered every inch from the waist up and down
and that’s how I go into battle
rattled.

Taking the cowards way out
is out of the question
it's not part of the equation
I live in no man's land setting
up tent above a land mine
ready to go off with what little is left of me.

I am a victim of my own friendly fire
a masochistic hit-man for hire
carry me in your arms
and out in of this ****** battlefield
that came to life right after your abandon
I held myself for ransom
******* on the same chair
made of your remembrance
where the untamed odor of your skin remained
and the fragmented pieces
of my flesh where deserted
left for the vultures of oblivion
facing a firing squad
and it was myself pulling the trigger
in the darkest of dawns
painting the air in blood
like finger painting from my son
I went into battle with myself
to rescue my own soul.

I went into battle without ammo
with love poems in my pocket
so I could set a bone fire
to keep me warm
during the long dreadful nights
where not a single star came out to shine
only the faithful moon
which reminded me of you
so either way my fate was doomed
in this unrelentless battle for my life
blindfolded with no cigar
I never wanted to lose.

drying my eyes with the crumpled plane tickets
that brought me here
as the new ones slowly print, inch by inch
and the ink dries upon my cheeks
and the time has been tattooed into my eyelids
ticking away, ticking closer and closer
to the end

closing my ears to the sound of cars
passing by on an open road
as the sound of wheels on concrete presses
into my memory and suddenly
i am in a taxi, speeding towards the last drop
of this city, and part of me is left behind
among the crashing water of spring
and the wood chips of an abandoned playground
and the puddles that we avoided as we ran
uncontrollably down the street
laughing

i am not laughing now, except to appear
alive as the boy who makes my coffee
makes me a joke too, free of charge
and i don’t want him or anyone to worry about me
so my mouth opens a crack, and my eyes fold inwards
and he smiles, placing my drink on the counter
and i burn my tongue trying to drown
that fake laugh

the tickets are done printing
the zipper has been forced
over the gaps between my fingers
where your hand should be
and the puzzle wavers as i pack it, but
the pieces stay together, at least until
i close the suitcase
and somehow, i am confident
that it will remain intact

i crumple the tickets in my hand
in an effort to make them look old
as if the summer had already passed
and i was on my way back to fill my empty palm
with warm skin, soft words and a hard press
of my mouth to the sound of something akin to home

i can feel the push and pull of two places
that have shaped me and are shaping me still
as my body curves around the ribs
and hips of a new kind of comfort
and the stiff seat in this airplane
reminds me that i am never as comfortable
as when i am with you

and i resign myself to sunny months
and warm music
and the discomfort of a puzzle
that is trying its hardest
to stay together

and i resign myself to dipping my toes in the water each night
pulling out the glue from between them
and keeping the pieces together
pressing my hand into the soft wood of the dock
in an effort to shut out the cold air

and i resign myself to the confidence i feel
knowing time will be on my side
when i need it to be

i throw the old tickets in the trash
and slip the new ones inside my passport
ready
to keep myself together

The majority of humanity thinks and believes that the mind-body is the whole being.

The majority of people today are stuck in dreams,
in characters.



Ever since it has become clear to me that i am not this body-mind,
i can do absolutely nothing this whole lifetime and still have so much fun peacefully observing every-single-thing.

And from the very moment of realization,
aside from learning as much as possible from this body and this world,
the wanting to share this experience has been tremendously irresistible.

Life and this entire world is so nice and beautiful and fun,
but it is all temporal,
it is not for ever,
it does not last for ever.

It is absolutely clear enough to see that every-thing that lives, dies.

My question then is:

Why are we so attached to the things of this world,
and why are we taking it all so serious?

It is the goal of Life for every-one to come to experience the Truth

A life-time is enough to touch people.

In this life-time,
threw Esteban,
i can demonstrate to others how life should be according to human nature.

But threw Esteban,
only a few years will be available.

Hence in these few years,
not a day will go by in which i am not following the heart,
and the Way of nature and Life.

It is threw my enjoyment of life,
threw my exploration of life,
that my true message is revealed.

I have thought about writing books;
but there is already so many books,
each expressing truth in different and unique ways..

Jesus was killed because he wouldn't stop expressing his truth.

And ever since the time of Jesus,
there have been so many books,
so many great books,
inspiring humanity to wake up.

So wether i write just another book on Truth or not,
it is the book of my whole life that will leave a mark on eternity;
not just a few truthful words,
but a whole truthful life.

And the funny thing is,
that it is such a simple thing to do..

It simply requires that one lets go of the image that has been created in the mind about who you think you are.

In other words,
the ego.

And not only who you think you are,
but also of who you want to be,
who you are struggling to be.

And that can be a hard thing for some people,
because they have been working ******* this image.

But this individuality,
this believe that you are separate from existence,
has to dissolve.

Because the whole effort to be famous and known in the world is only satisfying the ego.

The satisfaction is of your own mind,
and it comes when you can repeatedly tell your-self:
I am this. I have done this. I have achieved this. Look at who i am. Look at what i have done!

It is a silly idea that one has to let go of,
because truth is,
that we are not separate from the universe,
we are not divided from nature and existence.

The ego wants Life to be according to its own made up plan..

Forgetting that the whole evolution of Life and consciousness has been in it's process way before humans were created.

Therefor,
separating one's self from the whole of existence is a very silly thing to do.

Because every-thing that exists,
every-thing that lives,
is all working together,
as One,
according to Nature,
in accordance to the flow of Life.

Clearly enough,
all sufferings and all negativity,
arise when this separate image appears,
and tries to create its own personal way of life.

This imaginary identity desperately demands from life and says :
"Ok no! Why are things like this? Why are they not like this??"

In its own personal ignorance,
it asks for the impossible.

Ego is greedy.

It wants to be the owner of things,
it wants to be in control of everything.

It wants to control the weather..

If it is raining,
ego complains:
"****, why is it raining??"

If you have a girlfriend/ boyfriend,
ego wants to be in control,
bringing onto you,
self created conflicts by wanting things that can not be,
that can not happen.

One needs to understand how things truly are and begin to accept their reality.

Accept the things that we can control and the things we can not control.

The things that we are responsible for and the things we are not responsible for.

You are responsible for your life,
I am responsible for my life,
We are responsible for our lives,
and that is all.

As i see it,
life is a deep study of ourselves.

A challenging opportunity to analyze the things in us that have to be fixed,
that have to be balanced.

We can not keep going with life unconscious about our un-balances,
habits,
addictions.

We have to work on the things that are not right in us.

And even though we all have different un-balances,
in the end it comes down to knowing who we are.

When i say "we",
i am not talking about the mind-body organism;
When i say "we",
i am talking about the awareness.

So when i say "we",
i am referring NOT to the one who is talking right now using words, symbols, sounds, and language,
but to the silence from which all sounds come out of and eventually return to.

That silence i refer to as awareness.

It has no shape or form.

Awareness is formless.

And once we start to see that we are that which has no form,
we can then dis-identify from that which consists of form,
and this brings total freedom.

It means freedom from the things that come and go,
freedom from all that is temporal.

One begins to enter the realm of eternity.

One begins to understand how we are eternity itself.

What is the eternal?

The eternal is that which IS without any form.

And as it is clearly seen,
everything that has form at one point turns into no-form.

What ever has a form will eventually dissolve into no-form.

What is that inside of the form that allows the form to move?

What is it that gives life to the form?

The form disappears,
but that invisible force of energy always remains.

As far as my understanding goes as of now:

Just as we are not the creators,
the designers,
of our whole body,
we do not bind our-selves to the body either,
that is a job of God.

It is God who designed the body,
we are just the awareness.

And the awareness is everywhere,
in every-thing.

But as the awareness,
right now we are experiencing ourselves threw the human body,
and in the capacity of this human experience,
we are able to know our true selfs,
coming closer to God than ever before.

And the human life-form is the only life-form that can go so far in this understanding.

All other life-forms are incapable of this understanding.

The very same awareness that we are,
that is also in plants and animals,
can not have the same experience that the human body allows.

And that is all part of the goal of life and evolution.

That is the journey of consciousness,
to come to this point of being a human,
and here by,
totally allowing the understanding of who we are.


Now this can not be understood by the mind,
hence one must go beyond mind.

Because the mind is part of the body.

It is not the whole.

By my own understanding:

We can not rely on the mind.
We can not believe the mind.
We can not believe our thoughts.
We can not believe the thoughts of others.

We can not believe in believes because believe is not truth.

Wether one believes or does not believe,
truth remains truth.

The mind is an amazing tool,
provided by the human body,
to help and serve the human being;
To  learn from the past,
and to plan for the future.

But we can not count on the mind to tell us what is true,
because mind is a huge storage room,
it is all memory;
Mind is like a computer full of data with so much information,
so much knowledge.

So much that the whole history of humanity is there.

But it is impossible to see ourselves threw the mind,
for the simple reason that WE can see the mind.

WE are aware of the mind.
WE are aware of thoughts.
WE see all images that happen in our head.

When we are thinking,
we are NOT the thinker.

This is where things went wrong.

When we started to believe that we are the thinker.

We started thinking so much,
that at some point,
not even realizing it,
we started to think and then believe,
that we are the thinker.

And this is the mind-trap that drowns us into confusions.


If your heart is speaking to you,
if something from within is pulling you,
it is going to happen.

If you are in the world,
and something does not feel right,
as if something is missing,
as if you are incomplete in some way,
and something has to be attained,
found,
you are going to find it,
as long as you stick with your feelings.

And even though it is a sucky situation,
even though it is not a totally peaceful struggle to figure out what is true and what is not true,
it will be impossible to run away from it,
because it will continue to haunt you.

It is always going to be there,
pulling you,
pulling you,
pulling you.

If you are feeling pulled into something great,
out of this world,
my advice,
is that you follow your feelings.

Forget all about this world.

Do not be concerned with what other people tell you.

Discover life on your own.

Discover truth for yourself.

Learn what you can from people.

Listen to people,
but do not believe people.

Flow with life,
and where ever you are,
be there as the observer.


If you are with people,
just watch people.

If you are by yourself,
just watch yourself.

Keep following your feelings.

I sit on my sectional, a witness
to those vulnerable beings
pulling at scarves,
yanking at gloves
clutching at down jackets
I find great entertainment by this.

They have waited until November
When I have resided in frost
since last October
All       year       long
I held onto turtlenecks of impulsive irony
I bore
thirteen layers exactly
of self pride
I wore gloves religiously
that were knitted out of masochism
and egocentrism
And I drank from cups of hot cocoa
brimmed with whipped irony
during the month of June
I was far to eager

Now these glorious beings
surround me
clinging to warmth and long john material,
sitting closest to the hearth

All I can do is laugh

I searched for a shell
in June
I decorated a tree of longing
in May
I reached for a fringing
frolicking
frock
in July
that would
:gasp:
keep me warm

Fahrenheit resided in
pelvic bone
fingerprints
desperado
and seduction

None of it warmed my bones.