Thoughts, words, life

Sure

I’ll agree with you,

for once.

I know,

I’ve been thinking the same thing too.

But are you sure?

I mean,

we don’t have to tell each other this.

It’s not gonna happen fast.

As a matter of fact,

it might be slower than you think.

NO,

I’m not delaying this.

I just want to make sure that this

is what you want.

Just like I do too.

They will be different,

it’s not a simple adventure where we will just

smile and stare

at each other.

It’s going to be rough.

It’s not going to be nice.

Well, maybe,

but not as nice as yesterday,

or today,

or right now.

We are not going to be sleeping tonight.

Are you sure?

I’m not.

I don’t know if I can deal with it.

I just…

Alright. Fine.

Give me your hands.

Are you sure? 

Please,

tell me you are.

Alright.

I’m going to miss you.

I know.

Goodbye.

Cope

I’m not going to apologize

for anything I have asked,

nothing I have done,

everything I waited to happen.

This is not a justification

of some lost desire,

or unwanted truth.

This is purely me,

trying to cope with my illness.

So don’t mind me,

if another swig of this messy bottle of mine

cures my ultimate ambition.

Or if I take a drag

from another cigarette I had to ask

for someone to give.

Since I no longer possess the money

to habit my addiction.

Excuse the cuts on my wrists

where I know I didn’t have them yesterday.

They are hideous,

but for some stranger reason,

they are there.

For Some Strange Reason.

Am I a little too close to the ledge?

I’m fine,

I just wanted to check the city from

an

interesting point of view.

If I become a pincushion for needles,

a walking pharmacy,

Noose and chair inspector,

Road Obstacle,

a target for my father’s shotgun,

don’t ask and certainly don’t tell.

I’m trying to cope with my illness.

Because sitting around and talking about it

isn’t living at all.

Once you get to the real pleasure,

I’m sure you snap back into the reality that is

constructing your own death.

And you cower back.

And you learn.

So don’t mind me if I react this way.

I’m beginning the healing process.

Insomniac

Humming,
To a quiet night without an ear.
Eyes in darkness,
Webs in red festivals,
Open wide.
Closing them,
Without a dream in sight.
And open once again.
I wish I could sleep.
But my tedious mind,
Cannot quiet down.
Will I rest and wake full again?
Here comes my breath.
Rising up and down,
Round and round,
As the time seeps on by.
I look up to the ceiling with hope,
That it shall lead me somewhere,
Out of this world,
Without finding myself again in this hardened mattress
On the floor.
I try to be patient and respectful,
But by pacing back and forth,
All I cause is more disturbance.
I see them all
Sleeping sound,
Dreaming away,
And yet I’m still right here.
Shrugging my head towards the pillow,
Which I remove,
And put back,
Like a fever that keeps coming by.
The covers pulled apart and held again.
All it does is count my time.
I need to sleep,
Seriously,
I don’t like to be deprived of my vitality,
At least, while I’m conscious.
The pills don’t help.
Immunity.
Not as easy when there’s no way out.
All I want is full sleep,
To have my blissful dreams.
To fade away,
Like a whisper in a blink of an eye.
To feel the minutes in nothing,
Instead of hours in all this.

Mutter

It’s it’s too hard to
Pronounce
Certain hmm umm
Things.
N n not that I can’t
Or shouldn’t.
Let me start over.
Take a breath.
One, two.
Hold on, jeez
There’s no rush.
Okay
Okay.
It’s hard to say
Hmm
This isn’t easy for for me to say.
I mean,
This is pretty big.
Huge.
I j-just don’t want to say it.
You’re forcing me now,
And I really don’t know how you did it.
B b but that’s smart.
That’s really smart.
Almost a backfire.
I don’t want to,
Damn, I can’t tell you.
Because.
Because.
Because,
I don’t know what will happen if I
I
I do say it.
Enough,
I’m done with this.
I’m losing my words,
My thoughts
You caught me off-guard.
I didn’t expect this to happen.
Like this!
You’re making me nervous.
It’s been a while since I’ve said this to anyone.
I can’t.
I
Don’t
Want
To
End this.
But I have to tell you.
Or I’ll hate myself for not doing so.
So…
This is what I got to say.

Late-Night Romance

Baby, are you awake?
I know you want to sleep the night away.
But I just can’t help myself.
Being so near to your body heat,
Keeps me from drifting off this creeping world.
And the moon just bounces off your eyes so right,
It’s got me more than hypnotized. 
And you got me speaking in lullabies
I have never sung before,
Crafting all my words with the feel of your hands,
Begging me to finish it up.
And I know what you’re thinking,
But I don’t want to do that now.
Let’s just share this silver pillow,
And breath our worries away.
Let’s raise up the covers,
And kiss behind it’s shade.
Let me say your name again,
Just like in that first day.
Whisper how you got me in your spell,
That I don’t want to break.
Let me pull you a little close,
So I can smell the way your skin excites,
Infused with scented mellow joy,
And fierce tender passion.
Let’s just stay right here tomorrow,
Forget the outside world and it’s savagery.
It never had a place for us anyway.
Let’s just stay like this,
Exciting each other’s bare anatomy.
Caressing our lover’s beating skin.
Enjoying this couple’s company tonight.
Raise up the covers,
I want to stay awake with you

Where You Fit

I’m sorry if I never paid attention.
If I lost myself in the flow of my life. 
About the days I never bothered to care, And the nights the phone calls ended short. 
I’m sorry if I didn’t held you above the rest. If I underestimated all the questions I never answered. 
About the right words I couldn’t get said right, 
And the wrong ones I said anyway. 
I’m sorry if I couldn’t feel your body pressed into my arms. 
If I could not taste your lips. 
About the reasons why I never stayed, And the excuses of why I left. 
I’m sorry if my head was in different places. 
If it was in 2 different places. 
About the thirst I couldn’t quench, 
And the emptiness of your satisfaction. 
I’m sorry if I never said it was ok. 
If I hinted nothing was fine.
About the showers that ended so quick, And the breakfast that ended the same. 
I’m sorry if you never fit. 
If I couldn’t keep you in. 
About the deception, 
And the sacrifice. 
I’m sorry if I never apologized. 
If I thought I did something wrong. 
About everything I always did, 
And nothing I never will do. 

I’m sorry if I’m just too good for you. 
If I thought I was nothing at all. 
About stopping to think what I did, 
And instead, 
Forgetting about what you’ve done.

In the Forest of the Architects

In the whistling wind, 
Nature draws the bold. 
Harsh architechture, 
arid desert sand, 
And flatland, 
For warmongers and artistic inspiration. 
I heard a gunshot, 
In the forest of the architects. 
A violent comfrontation, 
With the trecherous fire 
Calling out my name. 
Calling out their names. 
The sides were decisions, 
Of roads in residual genocide. 
Recreation for recreational artists, 
In the forests of the architects. 
Among silhouetts 
Of nuclear fire, 
Glistening from the beacons of lit molotovs, 
The weapons of the arsonists among the vocabular profesors glowed in such intensity, 
The mad rain had not a word to quell the flames, 
In the forests of the architechts. 
They call and scream, 
Shiver, 
Calling out towards the destruction, 
Towards the men and the machines, 
Eating away the health, 
The prostitution of money and industry, 
Souls. 
And the souls do not complain, 
Toungues cut and severed were already for the steady machines, 
In the forests of the architects. 
And I could not bear to watch. 
I saw the corpses. 
I counted the bullet holes. 
There was no glory, 
There was no honor, 
All I coul do was watch the sunlight storm sky, 
Before it all came to an end, 
Before the revolution had began, 
Windows shattered, 
stasis and status, 
Seperated. 
The sky wept gently and kissed the sands with winter cold, 
Crying to quench the destruction, 
In the forest of the architects.

Everything is Fine

I could keep up with it.

Say it’s nothing but a nightmare I just made up yesterday

that’s stinking up my February walls

and the bedsheets

that I keep using as the curtains on my window.

Things,

I could easily pretend to exist

along with my newfound habit

of falling down before the week is done.

Ain’t it all sweet counting on me?

After all

what did it matter

if you had that awful smile for me?

I could turn the other way,

Or I could stay in touch

with your drinking problem.

After all, it’s my addiction too.

The sun is up in an hour,

and I’m still here talking about the scenario,

the same one everyone gets excited about.

The one where it’s all too fucking easy.

You’re going to ask me

if I have any little problems.

And I’ll just say everything is fine.

It’s nothing really.

Everything is fine.

Don’t worry.

Tommorow

Tommorow,

when we wake up,

You’ll tell me why I’m on the floor

with my socks and pants on,

watching the lights of morning

shine through the window drapes.

Wondering how much time has passed.

You’ll ask yourself,

why didn’t I leave your doorstep

in the rise of the sun,

sneaking out through the hallway with my shoes off,

to keep you snoozing away.

You’ll keep telling yourself

Why I chose the rugs, the pillows

a blanket,

to give me household comfort 

and
safety.

Rather than share a side of your mattress.

And after all this,

You’ll just say “Good Morning”

“How did you sleep?”

While all I know is tommorow

when I get up from this dirty floor,

I’ll know I’m the only person in this room you raise your eyes to

today.

That I’ll be cautious not to wake you

when I had to take my time out that frigid door.

And after all this moment

we just had to wonder what we saw in all of this

discomfort.

The bitter end?

We just said goodbye.

Things to do.

See you later.

Instead of  ”Stay”.

Wings

I

could

fly.

If these wings didn’t break a long time ago.

The gears rust and break

when they grind and grind

at my foolish attempts.

To the sun and back they once carried me,

asleep or awake.

They carried me.

People waved when I approached.

They had a name for me,

freak.

Only the jealous could call another man a freak.

I didn’t wish for them.

I don’t know how they came to be,

I awoke with them

tinkering and clincking and beating and lifting.

After one big decision,

I rose from the ground of the afternoon.

I tasted the fresh wind of the atmosphere,

played with the stars of absolution,

and soaked my hair in the endless sea.

I think that’s where they broke.

Another dumb idea.

I could remove them, 

maybe fix them.

But what good would that do?

What good would that do to me?

I would feel too special,

too distracted

to keep my toes on the ground.

What good would that do to me?

In the end,

I shall keep them on me.

Sooner or later,

I would have to share my private kingdom with another freak.