I'm an idiot and that makes me feel like crap, because I dont know how to be anything else, at least not in front of what I want.

   It could be that I have always preferred sleeping than staying awake, for If I were to die in a dream I'd never have to awake again.

Leave me and let me sleep, son. I could sing in a dream how much I wish for someone to finish me.

It could be that I have always preferred only one companionship at a time, for if she would be the one to finish the deed the world wouldn't have to mourn for me.

Leave me and let me die in my sleep for if I were to die awake I would not know how to bid farewell.

   Tragic events here and there, a momentary lapse of judgment
   and you're no longer there.
   Who was taken before you? Wasn't I the first to go? But I'm still here
   and you're still gone.

Beautifull grey, a uniform sky and a rain that just wont fall...

... and the day is still warm.

   Clouds break the sky and I'm the only one burnt by the sun.

   Blood instead of tears; I'm already crying over losing her...

   Unfinished

   Bleeding wounds of a war that never really desired to die. Help me to realize there is something easier that die.

Kill me if It's just simple that way, it's simpler to carry a rotting body .
I'll kill myself if what you dont want is the blame.

It's a crying shame all if this crying for nothing. I'm tired of saying "the world always and dizzy's me up in fright."

   Not my best but the feeling was the instant I wrote this. Anger never filled me so much.

   Unable to sleep on probably the day I should be sleep the most. Woke up a minute ago and I'm not sure if actually been asleep or just thinking too much. Doesn't feel like I was sleeping though.

   For me, insomnia is when my head works on It's own long before my body decides to shut down. I'm laying there in bed literally about to doze off when I head comes up with a thought or a memory, from here there starts a chain reaction that if a I don't end it soon and abruptly it can go on for hours. It can be anything, it could be a thing, a person, a name, a situation; things that happen to me years ago; today or things that have never happened at all. It could come from expecting too much or to little; it can come from a half drunken headache or from nothing at all; from saying too much or never saying a word.

   I toss and turn, find a comfortable position and just try to forget whatever my head is conjuring up. I try to imagine just "blackness" and sometimes it works; I paint an imaginary black canvas and put over my eyes to sort of wash away the images my head is projecting on the inside walls of my eyelids; theres no real way to shut it off or turn the volume down.

   My eyes are heavy and my body is almost numb but I cannot sleep... this will kill me in the morning.

"... maybe in another life we were something; maybe in another life we will be something more; but for now we can only be what we are..."

March 29th, 2006 (from personal journal.)

I've tried to look back at what made me perceive what was never there. Reading through my own words, going back in time I find my paranoia had taken so much control.

Pages full of thoughts; lines filled with pent up anger and mistaken assumptions.

Days were long and nights were spent awake blaming you for my nightmares, I never looked into blaming myself.

But you were so easy to blame, you were never there to fight back nor was I ever there to kill you with words. I never had the courage to curse and lie to you; I hardly have any at all.

I had fewer troubles without you but nothing to live for; I'm giving away what little sanity I have for a small piece of darkness. I would rather have the troubles you bring into life than not living at all.

All of these recent posting, the poems at least, have been only to keep up with past work. People have asked me If I'm actually feeling what the poems say I am. Remember all that angst you noticed in my writtings Meg? This is it. Just my way to get rid of it I guess. Most of them are nearly a year old and A lot has happened since, many things have changed. I still don't know if for better or worse but at least things have changed.

An unwanted theft of a privilidge I enjoyed. That soft touch now turned stone cold.
Why have you left me untouched? Why am I to leave without a glimpse of what I used to have?

You give me no reason, the way you closed your eyes and looked away made me see how far you really seem to be.

Whatever you let me touch and all I've already seen, has been turned into something forbidden to me.
Why would you ignore me all this time? A year will pass and all I'll is an almost forgotten memory.

But a sudden awakening; tears being shed in a much rehearsed ending have changed my mind. You have opened my eyes and given me sight again.

I have your tears on my fingertips, still warm from your cheek and still pouring from your eyes.

A face so small carrying so much pain. Nothing ever has been given to us from a better hand.

A change that creeped on by. We're in a shadow of what we were.

I can't remember our last kiss or the first time I missed a full day without you.

I'm a force to misunderstand; I'm a voice none can bear to hear; once I'm gone I realize I was never here.

I'm what people call hopelessly lost; I'm what the world enjoys to pound to the ground.

This world is not so round, all the roads I've walked have never been through level ground.

I can't forget your last goodbye or the last time it was "our" night.

I'm a name to be forgotten; I'm a voice that has no echo; once I shout a word that word is gone.

I'm nothing new; I'm half of what I thought I'd never be. I can't even amount to that.

Tell me a story I haven't heard, play a me a piece
that I don't know.
Show me a light without a shadow or a darkness
that's not cold.

Raise my face from the floor, show me that not all
doors are closed.
Show me the world so I can be a force to be understood;
a voice that you can hear; someone that is never gone...

... a name to be remembered; a voice with an echo;
someone that shouts at the heavens and is heard...

...something new. Show me I can be worse off without you.

I am what I'm used to; I am an everyday man in an everyday life.

"...not as glamorous as greasy hair and a partial pelvic girdle, but you know..."

Not that many people can tell you that. Hehehehe.

Gotta love it.

My niece in her own small world. That's all she needs, that's all she requires to smile. She puts on masks and you have to ask her which one she's wearing at that moment, if she tells you she's wearing her "princess" mask or "shark" mask or "cat" mask for that matter, you have to act accordingly. Or else.

It becomes a problem when she's wearing her "mime" mask though.

I dont rememeber ever being the age she is right now. I love her to death and part of is probably because I love how life used to be when I was young enough NOT to worry about life. Those were the times.

No worries; no responsabilities; no hesitations and no thinking twice. Either you were having fun or you were crying and that's when you'd feel a pair of arms rushing to kiss whatever scrape you had given yourself now.

My niece is beautiful. I love her, I love her world.

Princess.

Shark.

Or cat.

She's beautiful.

I've started my walk back, I forgot the road but I always knew there was something to walk back to.
Whatever the road brought here, there was always you.

I had lost my way; I was not walking in a different direction, I just wasn't walking at all.
The world was turning around almost upside down and I couldn't move at all.

So I took a step back and felt you there, all the dizziness in front of me and you always held sway.
For all the instants I breathed by myself, the next second you were breathing air in my lungs.

... and I opened my eyes.

Stepping on firm ground, building a way into something I could call a road.

It was a cold and fierce December. An irony of life permits you to live for the only reason to learn you are soon to die.
If knowledge was something if all this was not just something less than a game, only then would things be different.

I have my date; my very own battery life; counted days.
I am not afraid of death, I'm afraid of how far I am from it.

It used to be a warmer December, everything was in place until she changed and I decided to go away.
She thought she could bring life to someone when she didn't have enough inside of herself.

Everything is made half broken; everything is made to be replaced.
Everything is give to be taken away; your life is not yours to take.
I used to be a warmer man, eyes open to a world that was yet to kill someone close to me.
It used to be as simple as opening my eyes and breathe. It never felt as heavy as it feels today.

I have my date written down; my own day to kiss this flat world and say "Goodnight. I wont be waking up in the morning."

Blessed mourning...

   Wasting time, wasting life and spending air only to exchange for something dirtier.
   There is real blood inside my body, my bones might be cardboard but they're still strong and carry this body around.

Weak and frail, an unbreakable broken; beautifully horrible human being, that plays to lose, breaths to choke and begins life only learning to die.

Death, such a perfect simple release, a switch turned off, a moth frying in the desert sun. It's so easy to die.

   You can't translate me! You cannot read me! I'm not a book! I'm not a language you can understand!
   You cannot influence me! I am a wall, "I am a rock. I am an island."

Death can be such a simple game, nothing one can do can help you lose, nothing anyone can do can make you skip your turn. So roll the dice.

Life is simpler still, one only has to breathe... As heavy as that may seem just breathe.

Death, still seeming so convenient, will have to wait...

   Tried and true, the whole world isn't expected to tell the truth.
I never expected anyone to be sincere with me.

I've never had the time to talk about the darkness that was conquered,
instead I'd rather talk about whatever darkness was left.

   Caring little for whoever cares less of what I am to express.
I never expected anyone to listen to what I had to say.

Don't waste my time. Can't anyone see I'm busy dying alone?
Instead the see someone they think would rather live.

   Tired and wasted away, I thought I could only see you.
   Old bones and in pain I realize suffer more than I had thought.

   I've released what I thought was proper, the intentions I thought were true.
   I thought that I had conquered the word when in fact I hadn't even
   conquered myself.

   Tried and true, everyone thinks this boy always tells the truth.
I never expected to lie, except to myself.

Fill me up, learn to satisfy my every need and I'll learn to satisfy yours. I've learned life is too short to value death so much; life is too short to spend days and nights wishing it would end.

Fill me up, learn what nurtures my heart, and learn what nurtures my body. I need sensitivity as much as I need muddy satisfaction.

Feeling constantly half empty; never feeling full enough.

It's what I'm looking for, nothing more than sustenance, not food, not water, sustenance for the soul, for my own survival. Finally revisiting all those darker places I've so selflessly denied myself in the name of morals and personal ethics.

Nothing changed though, my beliefs remain the same, there just bent a little in a certain direction.

I'm still half dead, but that's one half less I was feeling s few weeks ago. At least the bottle doesn't call to me anymore. At least that and I'm glad I got it under control.

One more thing from the list, a couple hundred more to go.

   It's hard to understand. I read your words but your body tells another story.
My chest if filled with the words to make me survive. At least I have the intention to try.

   A rather darkly aspect of a life that was meant to reach a little further away.
Revive me again. I've fallen again on death's bed.

Lacking inspiration lacking the depth to not be able to swim to the surface again.
The troubling information a death in the circle of what I thought had acquired inmortality.

   It's a dream I've been dreaming awake, the images in my head
   and the ones I see are both real and strange.
   It's not the same. Not the same incredible expectancy of a life
   well deserved.

   "You managed to focus your eyes. You found your blush that breaks my armor down.

   Surrounded by what we see, death and everyday
sightseeing. But if it weren't for this fragile mortal coil
you and I would still unknown.

   So raise a glass and toast for an end; toast for a chance to stay.

   Cheers to homicide!"


   Eventually I thought something like this would happen; people like to torture; they like to see things they dont want to see; ask questions they dont want to ask, and hear anwers they dont want to hear. We're like that, we like the pain sometimes and I know. I'm an expert in that field. For me though, it was, for a time, the only thing that made me feel like I was still here. It was never a physical pain, it was always an emotional burden which is much hevier than anythingyou can make dissapear with a couple of pills.

   Call us masoquistic, we can't help but like it.

   And so there are requests, there a few last favors to do and I comply. I agree with her that I'm not the same person I was some time ago and even more so that she cannot think of me in the same way. So her quote changes; her thoughts of me are directed in another direction, no more grace, no more pictures for me to fill my walls.

   I've chewed off the reins, I'm breathing a new air. She thinks I'm doing perfectly fine; she believes I'm the happiest individual in the world. I'm not. I'm just comfortable. Happiness is, once you've lost it, something you retrieve in time not a few weeks. I'm still jailed between this four walls; I'm still sitting on this God awful chair; I'm still lonely. But I'm comfortable.

   Comfortable enough, at least.

   Things change a lot faster than one can understand. Seconds fly by too quickly and one's thoughts are still left behind the moment that person is living. Caught in the past; caught in some other place, caught with another person.

   I try to convince myself the world is still spinning; people still talk to each other in the same language I speak while I find it difficult to even understand myself.

   My beliefs have changed; my views are those I once considered wrong. Yes, I have changed; yes I am another person, who exactly I don't know but I'm liking the person I'm becoming.

   Things still remain from who I used to be, memories mostly that I do not intend to leave behind or forget, whether for right or wrong those memories, those past lives, have brought me where I am now taking the most difficult decision I've taken probably in all my life. There's always one of those every certain amount of years in someone's life.

   But right now I'm floating, I'm somewhere I do not know perfectly but I's a place I'm getting to know. Soon the palm of my hand will resemble where I want to be, I'll know it by heart, and I'll actually KNOW my heart.

   I miss the company though, I can't deny that. She's on my mind frequently, more than I should be admitting and she's a subject of discussion among the people that surround me, which makes it a bit more complicated for me to try and focus on other things. But, the truth is, most of the times I prefer to keep my mind occupied with her. I can't help but smile while remembering the good times.

   Still, I'm floating somewhere and I want to stay there waiting and searching, possibilities will come and go, flights will take me places, highways will make me see things I havent yet still I want to see her. I'll probably will run into her somewhere in a year or in thirty, at least I can hope our memories of each other will be fond ones; I can hope I'm not remembered as someone who cracked her ideology or ruined her recently found independece.

   She deserves as much as me to see things without the interpretation of another pair of eyes; without the guise of anothers opinion; of anothers hurry to leave or hesitation to speak. This way one speaks without a response; without someone else telling how utterly wrong that is. Justify to no one, correspond only to ones self. Finally.

So I{m floating and Ill be staying here for a while. Its comfortable.

Finding people in the earth; lifting them out and giving them light; closure, a name sometimes. It's strange because for a long time I wished I was down there with them, it just seemed so much more comfortable, easy and simple. You die, you go to the ground, the earth eats you, and you liquefy before you ultimately turn to dust.

Yes people, first you turn into a thick, peanut buttery consistency before ultimately turning to dust. Not so romantic now, is it?

It's still much simpler than just remembering to breathe each day.

At least things are looking better, the days aren't so hot; nights aren't cold or lonely, even though by bed still only fits one person.

It's a sharp line what divides earth from the sky; the blue and the ground; the soft from the hard and I'm right in the middle walking a road just barely visible but my road none of the less. Feels better living this way than walking behind someone else’s footsteps. Better than walking behind anyone for that matter.

Days come and go, opportunities just the same, most of them I put to rest before they even arrive, but there are some, a few, I can still take and make mine, I'm doing that right now and I'm enjoying something for the first time in my life. My independence.

I'll be selfish, I'll be a prick, a fuck, a screw up, whatever, but I'll be myself, and for the first time in months I'll be putting people in the ground not thinking: "I wish I were you, pal."

   "There are times that walk from you." That's how the song goes if someone knows that song at all.

   "There things that drift away," those days that seemed so endless but yet were so numbered, so final, no definitively coming to an end

   These people that fade away are so those that enter my life for such brief moments in which in these few seconds, hours or just days these people impact one's life so strongly, so suddenly so absolutely. These impacts bring broken hearts, broken expectations, broken promises and weak fake ideas only real inside someone's head.

   My memories are blurry, I haven't forgotten a thing but they're not in the right order; the way she so lightly walked almost as if with wings on her ankles, the specific way she entwined her hand with mine and how the ugliest things could seem so very beautiful in her eyes.

   She's gone as each and every one of them, so far yet never far enough for someone to consider... steal her away, forget the world the same way she made me forget it for all this time. Satisfy desires, satisfy this dormant necessity, and satisfy this long dormant function to function.

   Damn this world; damn how big it has to be; damn Americans...

   Stuck in the exact same place I started this whole journey 8 years ago, It's embarrassing to say the least how I keep falling in the same expected hole, same one I dug for myself so long ago is still here never covering itself knowing that sooner or later I'll come back and fall comfortably inside. That's exactly where I am right now. Cheers to that.

   Cheers to homicide, I've apparently killed more people than I can count.

Please, remember me
Happily
By the rosebush laughing
With bruises on my chin
The time when
We counted every black car passing
Your house beneath the hill
And up until
Someone caught us in the kitchen
With maps, a mountain range
A piggy bank
A vision too removed to mention
But

Please, remember me
Fondly
I heard from someone you're still pretty
And then
They went on to say
That the pearly gates
Had some eloquent graffiti
Like "We'll meet again"
And "Fuck the man"
And "Tell my mother not to worry"
And angels with their gray
Handshakes
Were always done in such a hurry
And


Please, remember me
At Halloween
Making fools of all the neighbors
Our faces painted white
By midnight
We'd forgotten one another
And when the morning came
I was ashamed
Only now it seems so silly
That season left the world
And then returned
And now you're lit up by the city
So

Please, remember me
Mistakenly
In the window of the tallest tower call
Then pass us by
But much too high
To see the empty road at happy hour
Leave and resonate
Just like the gates
Around the holy kingdom
With words like "Lost and Found"
And "Don't Look Down"
And "Someone Save Temptation"
And




Please, remember me
As in the dream
We had as rug-burned babies
Among the fallen trees
And fast asleep
Aside the lions and the ladies
That called you what you like
And even might
Give a gift for your behavior
A fleeting chance to see
A trapeze
Swing as high as any savior
But




Please, remember me
My misery
And how it lost me all I wanted
Those dogs that love the rain
And chasing trains
The colored birds above there running
In circles round the well
And where it spells
On the wall behind St. Peter's
So bright with cinder gray
And spray paint
"Who the hell can see forever?"
And

Please, remember me
Seldomly
In the car behind the carnival
My hand between your knees
You turn from me
And said, "The trapeze act was wonderful
But never meant to last"
The clown that passed
Saw me just come up with anger
When it filled with circus dogs
The parking lot
Had an element of danger
So

Please, remember me
Finally
And all my uphill clawing
My dear
But if I make
The pearly gates
Do my best to make a drawing
Of God and Lucifer
A boy and girl
An angel kissin on a sinner
A monkey and a man
A marching band
All around the frightened trapeze swingers

···Whatever keeps me out of trouble; whatever saves my neck before the shit hits the fan. I've never been so evil as I have been these past two weeks; I've never been so inconsiderate as I was yesterday; never so naive as right in this exact moment.

···Who give me the right? I've fought all my life for someone else and It's been going on for so long that I've noticed I've rarely fought for myself. Wheres what I want? Wheres what I need? Wheres is what I desire? I'm not sure what it is; It's, at least, not here; she's always someone far away.

···I've broken someone's heart and with actions passed I've broken my own. My usual misinterpretations, my life-long expectancy that someone is or has exactly what I need.

···Cheers to homicide! That's this season's phrase with all the memories and misery that has, how it lost me all I wanted and how it made me realize I had nothing to begin with. I based my actions on the needs of something in which I am but a small part, almost three years like this can break a man... I just wish it would have broken me sooner. I am not ashamed of what we went through, it was an amazing three years but it had to end sometime, I couldn't just keep waiting; I couldn't just keep expecting; I couldn't just keep idealizing this feeling, everything I expected.

···Nobody seems to care that I'm in the fight for my life, no one around seems to understand how life disappoints me most of the time, beginning with the fact that life now is a responsibility not an opportunity and from there you have to find whatever small piece of time you can to build a life; everything is a career; everything is a memo; everything is numbers; everything is taxes, money, convincing, saying goodbye, never cumming. Everything is papers and signatures, everything is contracts and revenue, everything is an erection only half hard. Most of life is a disappointment.

···This is me trying to change this; this is me trying to fuck the world and finally doing what I want; this is me trying to be bigger than anyone else; being a bastard; being a lover; being easy to kiss; being embarrassed and wasting time discussing a matador's package. This is me being thrown into incoming traffic; this is me pushing back, hurting our hands and almost cracking my skull; this is me being exactly how I wanted to be.

···I still hurt someone though, someone who expected me to stay like this; to keep being taken for granted; to be satisfied with so little when I wanted so much more. Excitement, enthusiasm, motivation, openness.

···Everyone is gone right now, specially her, who knows when I'll see her again or IF I'll see her again. Maybe that is for the best... maybe It's not... Cheers to homicide!.


···You managed to step into foreign ground; illegal words with an illegal touch.
···Whatever we leave aside we can always toast to homicide.

···You managed to speak the exact words to convince someone of what
···all those kisses were worth.
···So instead of cheering for life we say "Cheers to homicide."

···Cheers to the dead;
···A toast to end with the living.
···Cheers to the shadows of death,
···cold and silent.
···So again we can toast and say
···"Cheers to homicide."