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.

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.

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.

   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.

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

   My mind went dark, playing tragic songs believing tragic thoughts.

   Give me something you don't longer need, give them to me and watch me survive.

I will take you for granted if you turn your back; I will believe I conquered all and all you'll be is conquered ground.
They say my shadow is the only one who walks beside me. Well, It's time to see me leaving yo and my shadow behind.

   I don't walk alone, the world is always to trip me when I'm ahead.

   So I'd taste the ground I step on. My face is still stained with blood from days passed.

I will take you for granted if you never look back, I will believe you pleasure yourself by leaving me behind.
They say "until my heart stops beating I wont be a lifeless corpse." Well, see me leaving you and my heart behind.

   The day will come when you'll decide to let me down,
   when you walls crack and everything outside will come
   flooding in.

   The night has a hunger for seeing you. You are here and I can feel you.
   I am a product pending for ownership, "as fast as I am here I am gone." That is how have lived.

I have never walked my own road, but at least I have never walked alone. I convince myself of a misery that never existed. The only one alive in this room is myself.

   Early mornings filled with sudden nights. As soon as I wake up the world turns dark outside.
   But it is only a lonely shadow, a miniscule obstacle in a day completely void of sorrow.

I have never asked for directions because the world always turns in the same direction, no matter who there is only one place we all have admission.

   I am not one to complain when I'm alone. I just wish to be heard.
   I spent most of my days in seclusion, a friendly company brings me my solution.

   "Do not walk down a road; build your own."
   "Travelling is a man's way to open his soul; travelling with company opens up the rest of the world."
   "Time alone is time to think; time in company is time to heal."
   "Forgetting does not make one stronger, it makes one ignorant."
   "Finding you has made me find myself."

Dammit! It's my bloody birthday!

   How things are brought upon me I don't know. SOmetimes I don't care to know... sometimes It's the only thing I think about. It is complicated to ponder something else besides what breaks you or put you back together.

   She is a strange creature no doubt. I still do not understand her, not even scratching the surface when it refers to her. Sometimes that works to my advantage but most of the times it backfires in my face.

   I've lost view of what I came here for, the opportunity is gone and possibilities are more narrow now than they were before I moved back to this city that I never quite leave.

   I don't feel as close anymore, I don't feel that I'm from this place... I feel completely out of place. The depression that hits and that nobody sees has been one of the worst I've had. Maybe having it kept in secret is better that letting it come out into the light.

   I'll give you the world so it can crush you; I'll give you the sea so you can down and I'll give you the air so it can choke you.
   I've been given everything to hurt you but It's always been you who's killed me. It's so simple to do, a word or a look of disdain.

Kill me so I have a reason to do the same. The rage I feel is as present as ever and the need to inflict it as well. You are close to me now... keep far, far away.

   You give me a kiss of our passion, you give me the body of this temptation. You've given yourself to prove you can break someone who's already broken.
   Congratulations on destroying someone already destroyed.

   It's not exactly how I feel but what she's been making me feel.

   This is all far to strange for me.

It doesn't convince me to tell you the truth. Of all the things I thought that would scare her, this was not one of them. She argues the worst, says "It's creepy" and I cant help but feel exactly that.

I guess I should understand her, It's only been (almost) three years now, It's far too little time to get to know me...

How would you know of my weakness and my custom made darkness?
I deserve what my body defines as a "normal way of life."

I find it hard to believe how someone can find it so simple to live. Day by day, each and everyone seems exactly the same.

I've never mentioned my fears or my weakest of points. What's the use of breathing if all there is contaminated air?

See me choke with my own breath, realize that
the thing that hurts the most is the earth we
walk upon.

I can never talk without looking away, half my life I haven't lived and the other half is a lie.

I've made it so it doesn't fit with yours, I'd destroy it and build my own so I wouldn't feel so desperate and alone.

Why can't I pretend that life is sound and there's something more to this ground, what little I have you've managed to find out, not from force but because I've bled out for you.

This world that seems to turn this slow, everything seems to go the way I don't. But as slow as everything is, It's still harder to move.

Never have I felt so envious of people I once thought so poorly about...

I'm slowly getting used to fact of not having her for 12 hours of each day; slowly I'm coming into terms with the fact that she needs me less than I need her, that she has some other things in her life that have some importance. What's strange is that I'm slowly becoming ok with this, all my paranoia are slowly dying down, the thoughts that my head develops by itself are becoming more and more like cartoons than real life; a fiction of life, nothing more than a lie, an exaggeration.

There are days where she comes only to leave the scent of her perfume behind, she's gone as soon as she's here and even though I ask her not to go and to stay she always leaves. I'm not bitter but how I wish she'd stay.

But sometimes, there are days where she comes by and stays long, never for the whole night and never ever long enough, but she stays, she leaves not only her perfume but her aura, her echo, the footprints on the floor, the room is still lit up for hours after she is gone.

She's a girl with many things in her head, music, responsibilities, beauty and assignments, this that are her own to live and develop. I'm still there but she's used to me, she's used to the distance and the time apart. Unfortunately I am not, the thing being that these trips I make are solely and exclusively to see her and none else, whoever crosses my path while I'm here is mere coincidence, I'm here for no one else and her still having these responsibilities are literally choking my intentions and purposes for this trip.

I'm still so very much in bliss though, I would never give this up for anything, even with the sudden lack of passionate kisses and a strange sense of celibacy that have cut our list of activities by two, I would still not give this up for anything.

END OF THE WORLD

You are nothing short of the end or the world,
your hair is fire & comb it so as to leave all you walk
upon burnt.

You are nothing short of the end of the world,
body so light and nimble feet, a face truly called
divine.

You are nothing short of the end of the world,
the rage of the suns coupled with the tenderness of
your touch.

You are the end of the world, in what little I have
walked there's nothing more for me.
You are the end of the world, for I need not search
much more if I've already found you.

You are the end of a road, walking slowly
with steps so small it makes it hard to see how far
I've gone.

You are the end of a long road, resting aside
under the sun and following your breath all the way
to your kiss.

You are the end of my road, in what few people
I've seen in you is where I find the most.
You are the end of my road for I need not to walk
any further to find someone quite as you.

You are the end of a world, I've only just left
you behind; you are the start of a fresh new breath
of life.

You are the end of a road I almost failed to
walk; you are a brand new glimpse of a world that
brings me hope.

You are the end of all I've left behind in
order to survive, you are everything I need to start
a better life.

COMMON

I still feel overthrown by all this words I fail to learn. What little I can understand are only whisperings of a common man.

I still feel the storm coming in, I don't remember when I felt as small as I feel today, these are only the complaints of a common man.

I've been left alone; I've been kept in the dark from all the things I need to be a man.
I've never felt so small and I've never felt so "in between" worlds.

If you believe I'm behind every shadow and around the thoughts in your mind, these are only the wishes of a common man.

I've been forgotten again; I've been a well kept secret for as long as I have known.
I've never realized that I am as common as the next man.

Marzo '05

She is so sorely missed...

SO FREAKING AFRAID...

Feeling as if you've been taken for granted is probably one of the worst feelings one can experience, being considered like something (one) that will always be there without a second thought, without a shred of doubt... "He will always be there, he's just like that... Routinely dependable." God, fucking kill me now.

It's going on for some time now, preferences overpowering me, a sudden change in the hierarchy of how she sees things, suddenly I feel I've been overshadowed and displaced by something else. And do hope it is "something." I absolutely detest this new hierarchy, her new way of giving importance to things that are over me, it's not that I feel more important than her passions but it's the way she's treating our current situation that throws me to the side; It's how she's managing this situation in which we've hardly talked to each other, seen each other that just bothers the life out of me.

Conversations have lasted fifteen minutes, twenty minutes, sometimes less than that, what can I say when I don't want her to go and fulfill her passion just because I really need to talk to her about nothing?

I try to understand, everyday that something like this happens I try to come up with a reason not to feel so unappreciated, left out, over powered. I say to myself "This will only last the rest of the week. Coming Sunday everything will be back to normal." I also try to convince myself that this is some sort of test that she's conducting just so she can see how crazy and ill she can sometimes make me feel... I've never been good at convincing myself though.

Even worse though are these constant thoughts and images that keep popping inside my sick little skull. All this having another activity that replaces a conversation with me seems far too familiar. It's far more possible that all this is merely a simple coincidence and the games my dirty mind plays on are achieving the purpose. I'd love to be wrong; I'd love to see all of this remain as a coincidence and never see it turn into an irony.

Separated from all that I need, I'm not surprised I've never felt so alone. It's so hard to be gentle and warm; to be able to give the words she needs when I don't feel I'm getting the time I deserve, that's when the thought of being taken for granted sinks so deeply in.

I am so afraid of her, she freezes me in place and it shakes my bones thinking what she's capable of doing. She could as easily kill me by only ignoring me. She could cut me to pieces if she wished it so. Finally all those words that the people without faces said are acquiring substance, "One of them will break first at the hands of time and distance." Will she leave me someday? My disease asks me if she's being unfaithful, I say "Yes." But, what would happen if something like that happened? What would I do? I've imagined the words, my expressions and everything that could happen the instant I close my eyes and imagine that everything is perfectly fine, when outside I'm losing her.

I have never met someone with such a grand potential for hurting me, someone to whom I have to be so careful with and at the same time love so incredibly much. But it's not that she is terrible, far from it it's the complete apposite, she just doesn't know of this capacity she has, and what she does is not something she does on purpose, her passions are her passions, for God's sake she wouldn't miss a single rehearsal even though I had only a week with her, but BECAUSE IT IS HER PASSION I let slide, it hers and not mine to control.

I just need another conversation, that is all.

I small glimpse into my private life, I' incredibly uninspired and I dont know why I'm posting this.

I'm troubled by the upcoming days, to see my life change so suddenly, to see everything I'm supposed to see.

I'm troubled by this unfounded hate directed at no one but enforced in every single way.

   I seek what can be destroyed, I look for what I can absorb, taking whatever I can throw on my back, a weight that pushes hard on my soul.

Don't tempt me, I'm troubled by the possibility of hurting you, hurting me.

   I find truth in solitude, warmth in desperation and life in inactivity. I take my time everyday to crawl out of all this sincerity.

I'm troubled by my good deeds, I want to hurt you, I'd love to see you bleed.

I'm troubled by this hate, unfounded and directed at no one but made larger ever passing day.

   Disconnect me, unplug my heart before this body goes too far.
   "Sticks and stones can brake your bones and my words can now
   destroy you."

The world can spin,
it can shake the floor
and drop me to the ground.

I'm embarrassed to say
that I've lost my vision
of how this world used to be.

I'm not convinced It's round
anymore.

The world can spit on me,
it can throw my dreams into
the floor and crush them
with her foot.

I'm troubled to realize
that I can do more then what
I'm intended for.
I'm not quite convinced that
my life was all laid flat on
the floor.

Don't worry about me, I'm bound for worse things, so if you see me on the floor just wait,
I'm bound for fall farther down.

I find doubt throwing me deeper into loneliness, when a simple answer can change the way
I look at love, still hide safely behind a concrete wall.

Concrete can still break and a heart can still be mended.
The world can still be flat so that one can still fall of the edge.

Don't worry about the cloud over my head, it erases the steps I've made making sure I
don't turn back stare at my past.

I find the dust gathering on my shoulders, I drag the rocks behind my forgotten steps,
I've dropped love on the floor before I killed it with stones.

Stones can still break but love can survive under all their weight.
The world can turn into a ball and spin me dizzy out of my way.

   Run it around my neck, place the collar and pull me back, I'm yours. Mistreat me then feed me to the dogs, clean me up and tell me that you love me before you kill me.

I'm your abuser, I'm the abused. The days hit hard both ways, the punches I've pulled are the wounds I've inflicted on myself.

   Turn the fire up, kiss me long before you throw me in the mud. I'll carry the sins too heavy for you as long as you're mine before you kill me. Before I disappear.

I'm the abuser and yo abuse me back, the silences are sharper than knives, they're the ignorance that's taking and eating away our lives.

   Bury me in the ground so I can save your space when you come visit me again.

   I've tried to understand how life works then lead us away from what we were meant.

   I never thought I could live this long, yet I always thought this felt too wrong, the words of a man ring inside my skull asking me "Why do you deny human nature?"

I've lived my life against the balance of what my body does against what nature intends. I lived based on how I've loved and not by how I've been broken in half.

   It is fidelity that such a simple torture for myself, the fact of waiting and be left alone.

   I never believed someone would open to me so bold, a word so harsh, and intent to kill the years that passed with a simple act from an inaccurate theater act.

I've seen how my life wants me to be, taking turns at the wheel letting go whenever I forget how to drive. I've lived based on how I've been loved, never by how I've been torn apart.

And until all the breath decides to leave my lungs, I'll write these that tell the stories of then and now.

   You drag me to where I can be dropped, the edge of sanity and piece of mind when I though I could get away from that this time.

   We walk where we were left to die, funny how the world where our hearts were broken and bodies mistreated seems to be our favorite place.

   A desert sun and scorching heat, a landscape once adored now only becomes our meeting point.

We escape, we walk to the cold where rain of fire is replaced by falling snowflakes.

   It's a matter of time before I close my eyes to move again, the time and space change what once was great into something that can easily be destroyed.

You are what creates and destroys each and everyone of my days.

So, how does one destroy what he loves the most? How does one survive with this thought eating him up inside?

   I had a strange premonition of a hard
cold past and sinful memories.
   I have been the devil and I have been
the saint, I have flown in the clouds and
I have walked over burning coals.

Leave a light on for me, because next time
I come back, I'll never leave.

Forget our past and the tears we have spent,
not even hell can overpower whatever strength
we have left.

   My light is combined with darkness and
shade, It's my own little escape.
   For every good deed in my life I have
another sin, for every time I've flown in
the sky I have crashed on the ground.

   And burnt my feet.

Leave whatever you know of me for when
I come back I'll never leave.

Forget our past and stop planning the future,
whatever time we have is much better spent
in our own personal seclusion.

   There are so many other things out there that are more important than this but people cant seem to carry on with they're own lives, they have to delve into subject that will never, or at least not in a LONG time, be resolved; I'm saying other things are important than this because people sometimes take these things too seriously, religon and moral are a big thing dont get me wrong, but there are way to treat this, there are also other things one has to do, for example, go on with their lives. But like a I said, there are people who build their world and lives based far too much on these things, things they cannot change, maybe because the fact that religion is sometimes so "unchangable" that i's a sort of comfort these people loo for; a change scares some, for people like me, it's a welcome comfort.

   The reason for me writting abou this is that there has been a question I've been reading on my way to school, I say this because it's posted on a bulletin board on my way to my office, it asks "Should morals and religion be taught in the classroom?" and whats my answer you might ask, Morals = YES, Religion =Not as much. Theres a problem is this (and all countries) when people cannot distinguish the difference between morals and religion, one and the other might meld well together but aren't necessarily the same thing. It's strange how you can teach Morals without religion but you cant teach religion without morals.

   Obviously what pops into everyones head here is that if your going to teach morals in the classroom you're gonna have to throw in a few paragraphs from the Bible, why would you do that??? It's perfectly fine to to use Christ as an EXAMPLE, hell, you can use any religious figure for all I care as long you don't use him only, of course, I am one that doesn't mind hearing a bout any specific religion in class, after all I'm note religious at all and do not feel comfortable talking about it or experience people practicing what they believe in, I do feel it's incorrect to make a habit of referencing religious characters in any kind of moral study. Are these religious figures THE ONLY moral moral human beings that have existed (or have been created if you want)? Is there anyone out there that is an atheist but live morally? Of course there is, there has to be, demographically it's IMPOSSIBLE that this person does not exist.

   What I also think is that people tend to exaggerate too much on these kinds of subject, people nowadays if they see a person talking about their religion they feel like they[re being pressured to join, you cant give an opinion because it might be more based on religion than fact, if you believe in God it doesn't mean that you've been living a lie, at one point in time EVERYONE in the world believed in some sort of deity, so it's far from wrong. Now, that doesn't mean that being an atheist is completely wrong, I do have to admit it's a very comfortable way to go through every day but it's not really wrong, I think it's very practical, you go through your life living each day not worrying about whether that gum you stuck under the table or that lusty look you gave to that girl on the bus stop is going to be your ticket to hell.

   Religion should be used only as an example not as a strict "yes/no", "right/left", "you are wrong and I am right" subject, the problem is there are too many religions in this world that, regardless of their differences, basically they are the same, certain morals might be considered universal like helping your fellow man, the less fortunate, and these things aren't necessarily christain, they existed before anyone decided to write a book as influential as the Bible, there was just this guy who was smart enough to coin them as commandments. I say keep morals in class and bring in religion once in a while, but in way the shows that most religions have these same morals, might make a more interesting class that way.

"AND DEATH SHALL HAVE NO DOMINION"

And death shall have no dominion.
Dead men naked they shall be one
With the man in the wind and the west moon;
When their bones are picked clean and the clean bones gone,
They shall have stars at elbow and foot;
Though they go mad they shall be sane,
Though they sink through the sea they shall rise again;
Though lovers be lost love shall not;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
Under the windings of the sea
They lying long shall not die windily;
Twisting on racks when sinews give way,
Strapped to a wheel, yet they shall not break;
Faith in their hands shall snap in two,
And the unicorn evils run them through;
Split all ends up they shan't crack;
And death shall have no dominion.

And death shall have no dominion.
No more may gulls cry at their ears
Or waves break loud on the seashores;
Where blew a flower may a flower no more
Lift its head to the blows of the rain;
Though they be mad and dead as nails,
Heads of the characters hammer through daisies;
Break in the sun till the sun breaks down,
And death shall have no dominion.

                                 Dylan Thomas

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"I remember running through the wet grass, falling a step behind."

   The sunset last night was somewhat like this one, but I didn't have my camera at the time, I didn't have that recording eye, I saw it, but I can paint a picture on the screen from my mind. There some kind of images you see that make you realize how far are all the gratest painters in the world from actually capturing reality, colors they can never reproduce, "Sunset Pink" or "Sunset Orange", there are some colors, some visuals that will never be able to reproduce.

   Take it in paniters, artists, you'll never be able to reproduce such beautiful scenes.


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We don't need no education

   A double negative? It looks as if Pink Floyd really did need a little bit of education.

   The person who is a professor is always misunderstood, 22 years of my life I lived on the opposite side of the desk, but now that I've gotten to know the other side I say to myself, "how badly we treated some professors." It's my first full semester as a professor of Spanish as a Second Language and my views are varied, for lack of a better word. I had two classes three days a week; mondays, wednesdays and fridays, at 9 and 11 o'clock in the morning; it's impressive how only two hours can make such a difference in the attitude of the students.

   It might become a full fledged anthropological case, it can also be a case of little sleep and too much drinking because it looked as though half of my 9 o'clock class were always hungover or still half drunk, meanwhile, the 11 o'clock class only arrived half hungover but more coherent. I don't know, maybe it's this "American way of life" that I cant get used to or, simply, doesn't interest me.

   The difference is seen clearly in the grades, but it is something I cannot dispense since it's private information, or until the student or guardians permits it, which I wont take the time to ask. Now it's only a matter of time to see how they do next week on the final.

   We will see.

"It feels like somebody's watching me"

   I'm being watched by someone that I cannot clearly indentify, I am distracted, my sight is on the opposite direction while this being rests it's sight on me. ¿Where am I? ¿From where am I being watched? I dont care who is watching me, I only need to realize if I am or not confused.

   Find me a place where we can hide away and nobody can see us anymore.
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