February 2012
36 posts
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an idealist at heart, but the world is much too...
What a strange time to be alive, what a strange way we live. Feet detached from the ground, still—I will float until I learn how to swim. A cup of coffee in the library for the day’s troubles, and it’s only 10AM. C’est la vie, my good friend says, his fingertips worn from bleeding at the typewriter. Avoid all responsibility like your life depends on it. Drink coffee, eat...
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11:23am
A kiss to each notch of the spine to keep one intact. Let go and watch as I disperse into the fractions of a self that claims an unhallowed whole. An easier settled morning, we press our lips together and touch the quiet potential untended. Left suspended from my own unmastered list of self-inflicted demands—abandoned on your front porch. I exit through the door way, startled at first by the...
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I sit in class, brow weighed with idle frustration, a tension that rests on the tongue like the rusted steel that once gave shape to our own futile dreams, measured only now by the time that has passed in between. And I sit at my desk chair, a right handed expression of the will a left handed denial of the corrosion that has yet to leave the mouth. An avenue from the past cut straight across into...
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Torn from the page as I linger on the margins. An unexpected lovestruck evening fills my heart with a resonance of youth, an invincibility that has me reconsidering the script…
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we made our way to the shore the tranquil back and forth of a wave’s breath already reaching our ears a path left like imprints of our union we reached the water careful steps in to the deep blue unsure if the salt would sting
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“The breath of the morning. I keep forgetting the smell of the warm summer air.”
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today is a blank canvas, vague outlines drawn in from foreign winds
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not only just I miss you
my hair has grown down to the waist, and every time I pass mountaineer road I can’t help but think of you, look for you one day I’ll build enough courage or stupidity to swerve my way up that awful hill arrive outside your window and demand that you come out - look how long my hair has grown, how the pavement carries a tint of remorse one day I’ll have the guts to break away from...
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January 2012
28 posts
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what’s the value of pure knowing when it stands on its own?
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deshaciendo en mi propio pensamiento
estas alli, me escuchas? o las palabras que siento se caen al mas caer. al fondo de lo que se escucha. y que validez tienen mis palabras si caen en oidos sordos, si tu ya no te preocupas por mi voz.
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