Whatever was spoken; whatever was done; whatever kisses were given.
Value everything below it's worth, forget everything said and start from the sky once more.

The chances given and all of the lost; a woodsy wilderness promised two more days; change brought another promise broken.

Walking forward with the wings on your ankles carrying you around, so thin a body I swear could float over the ground.

Your wings grew and as soon as you landed you were gone, leaving behind a scent, a presence, some feathers from your wings.

Whatever was intended; whatever was justified; whatever was always taken for granted.
Lighter Kisses I have not known, from who I expected a violent reaction I received tranquility.

A night's silent activity, unreal covers still sweating without moving, without speaking a single word for fear of something outside this room; for respect of one and another's past.

Walking backwards and landing on lighter kisses and the wings on your feet. So short a time never owning time at all.

You were no one until a Friday afternoon and I was something until you kissed me behind everyone's back.

Well now the world has turned around and you have flown.
You're a story and nothing more.

And so I start...
There were words
and then there was you disappearing.
Vanished on a pair of borrowed wings
much larger than the ones around your feet.

And so it goes on...
thoughts of someone gone
and thoughts of something lost.
Vanished in thin air a presence lingers still.
Much stronger than any perfume,
much more sudden than any kiss.

And so it ends...
unknowing, still believing
there is something more to this.
Vanished just like love; a memory still in my veins.
Much deeper than I thought,
much simpler wars we have fought.

And so it continues...
It lingers on with your wings...
I thought one could go o far with those wings...

And everything is different... just like that.

After so much in so little time... now nothing at all.

Strange

"Did I do all that I should; that I could've done."

It's never stupid to say what your heart feels. Cowards are the people that keep what they feel inside.

We had our songs; our moments but the fact that this ended doesn't mean they're not ours anymore. As difficult as it may seem right now it will become easier to deal with each passing day; there will come a time where you will remember all this with a smaller degree of sadness and larger sense of thankfulness. You will remember the moments and realize how these things made you who you are and helped you achieve, they will still be specific moments no one else will have. You will come to appreciate them not as something you lost, but as something you happily experienced.

There will come a time. I swear it will. If you can still believe something that comes from me, make it that.

I will always apologize for not being all that you needed; I will always apologize for letting you down.

I'm truly sorry.

It's hard to say what my recent behavior says about me. For the people that just met me, they probably can't judge me completely yet; for the poeple that have known me for at least a couple of years all I can picture them saying is: "You've changed."

I rarely got opportunities like the one I got last night but for the first time in all those opportunities I took it and had the fun I'm supposed to have.

People here have still to judge my actions, maybe they wont; maybe they'll never know. I dont know what would be better with that. I'll probably hear a comment later tonight.

It's a tight knit group the one they have here, It may be a bit more complicated to be accepted than I thought. They're very selective and I understand that just because they are so tightly knit and so small, any person coming in and disrupting this harmony they've managed to establish represents a sort of threat to the relative peace they have here. It's very nice symbiosis they have here, I just hope I can one day form a part of it.



People have come and gone searching for the spot I somehow managed to grab hold of, believe me, I'm still surprised I got it. "I find it hard to explain how I got here... I think I can, I think I can." Now It's time to actually take this awesome step I achieved and put it to good use. About time I do something that will leave me with something again.

Exhausted from last night; from whatever happened last night; from the drinks, looks, hidden innuendo and words in between what they said.

"You're here for now. Be careful what you do."

Then I promptly go down and do it, I mistake my intentions with my needs. "Be careful what you do, you've only been here one day." I heard telling myself. "It's not time to flip this world around quite yet." There's plenty of time to return here and wreak havok in a nother way; there's always ways to come back and see what one can so easily alter; something I can so easily "acquire."

Call me surprised, because I am. Believe me. But maybe It's just me.

Time will pass before I eventually come back, several months, even more weeks and I don't want to count the days, they'll just make them go slower. I need to come back as soon as I can.

It's strange how I'm still dissapointing people because I'm leaving; hurting them even because I'm finally achieving things that are solely for myself. I once made her promise that I would never hurt her again, I should have realized that promise is impossible to keep forever; impossible to keep at all.

Things will change; things are already changing; I'm changing. I need people to be ok with that, to be ok with the fact that I'm probably not going to be the same person in four months, or two years.

I need to change.

I need to keep recieving what I felt in Erie; that vibe as If I'm forming part of something but I'm still just myself.

The beatings will continue until morale improves.

ACCEPTED!!!!

ROCK ON!!!

For those of you who forgot to;
or those that just decided not to.
For those who were too busy;
or those that just didn't worry.
For those that just don't care;
or those that actually offered me their care.

Wish me luck

C'ya saturday.

Yes, it IS this early.

pusilánime
Préstamo (s. xv ) del latín pusillanimis , formado a partir de pusillus ‘pequeño’ y anima ‘aire, aliento’, ‘alma’. De la familia etimológica de alma (V.).
adjetivo/nombre común
1 [persona] Que muestra poco ánimo y falta de valor para emprender acciones, enfrentarse a peligros o dificultades o soportar desgracias.

Claro, como me quieran describir. Me sigue sorprendiendo como a una persona la pueden tener descrita después de una sola acción. Una.

Es cierto entonces que una persona realmente describe como es otra solo cuando tienen algún desgarre en la relación. ¿Acaso no era pusilánime mientras estábamos juntos o simplemente fué algo nuevo y repentino que desarrollé?

Aparentemente no tomó valor hacer lo que hice...
Aparentemente no toma valor lo que voy a hacer...

Ni hablar, me pueden describir como quieran. Ahora soy pusilánime, mañana aún no se que error cometeré, ni el adjetivo que me atribuirán.

Apenas ha sido una persona que conozco quien lo ha notado y me lo ha dicho a la cara: "Estas triste, ¿Por qué?" Lleva meses diciéndome lo mismo. La primera vez que lo dijo me sorprendió tanto porque nunca nadie antes me lo había dicho ni había estado tan cierto ni cerca a la realidad. Lo único que le pude decir fué "¿Acaso se nota tanto?" Entonces, ¿Por qué nadie ha dicho una sola palabra? En este tipo de casos es uno mismo el que tiene que decir la primera palabra. Mas adelante me dijo que conoce muy bien el tema, que ha escrito tésis sobre ella.

El poco ánimo lo admito pero que me juzguen entonces por estar deprimido.

Bienvenido al mundo de beber solo.

Si regreso con buenas noticias prometo que seras la primera en saber.

Arrivo a El Paso el sábado entre 6:30 y 7:00 de la noche. Hablaremos entonces.

Early tomorrow morning I'll be flying farther than I have in so long. I'm flying to find a place for myself, a place where I can stop shooting the future on the foot.

6:55 A.M. Will see me flying over the people I know. It'll be a very early morning.

I wont come back for three days trying to find a way not come back in two years.

Wish me luck, all.

Recuerdos que apenas tocan la superficie de estos tres años.

Salúd por los próximos tres... si sobrevivo.

It would've been trhee years tomorrow; three years of one heck of a ride.

Unfortunately these pillars gave way with my biggest weakness; my biggest need. I'm too much of an animal for someone to love; I'm too neanderthal to be civilized. After almost three years we spent many hours saying how all the things that other people said would defeat us have only ricochet off of us. It's funny how whatended sabotaging this relationship was myself.

Sometimes I'm too much of an "average guy" to feel unique.

She'll live her life and find someone else, I know that; I know many that admire her beauty. It's harder for me because, well, It's always been like that.

I would've loved to see her in that dress she says she wore on her birthday though... she never wore a dress for me except on very special occasions. I guess I'll never see that now.

There's nothing much to do now really. She want's to see me one more time, she says she has things to say to me and I have no idea what. I don't know if she'll yell at me in anger; I don't know if she'll cry; I don't know what questions she will ask, all I know now is that she has things to say.

We'll see this weekend.

Years will pass and at least I can hope that a friendship will be rescued, all we need is to realize that what we were to each other was something to prepare us for something larger. She's been everything to me for so long though. I know we'll both survive this.


Cheers to you Gorgeous.

Be happy; be a readhead; be you.

Be a mad scientist.

Be free.

Hago trampa pero lo dejas pasar, sabes que es a propósito para poderme acercar. Me hablas para decirme "Ahora el mundo cambiará. ¿Me quieres acompañar?"

Me convences y te hago caso, me espera un lago y la construcción de un barco; una plataforma para hundirse y platicar mientras los peces nos muerden los pies.

Me ensucio con el fango del fondo de tu lago; camino con el lodo entre mis dedo; el agua permanece hasta que duermo.

Haces trampa pero lo dejo pasar, se que si llegas algo me vas a dar.
Mientras tanto te hablo para preguntarte "¿Cuándo me vas a cambiar el mundo de nuevo?"

Te trato de convencer pero eres una piedra divertida de romper; una piedra que nunca se hunde porque tu cuerpo es mas ligero que el agua.

Me cubro en el fango del fondo de tu lago y, mientras te veo flotar en la superficie, tu cuerpo lo sigo hasta llegar a tierra firme.



Hacemos trampa pero ninguna dice una sola palabra, sabemos que el tiempo no es nuestro para controlar y lo único que nos queda de él es podernos burlar.

Nos convencemos y nos mentimos, si la distancia y la falta de contacto es lo mejor para los dos, ¿Por qué insistimos en cambiar nuestro mundo?

Nos ensuciamos con los recuerdos del otro, aprendemos nuestros nombres y lo que cargan con su significado. Nos vemos a medio camino entre la superficie y el fondo; yo ensucio tus manos mientras tu me limpias el rostro...

...Y me besas, cierras los ojos y con decir tan pocas palabras me cambias el mundo una vez más.

Acercas estas manos tan débiles a la superficie para tocar el aire y el sol, me convences de lo mejor que es respirar en la superficie que permanecer en el fondo.



Hagamos trampa una vez más;
Convénceme de lo que quieras;
Húndeme en cualquier cuerpo de agua,
iempre y cuando me encuentres medio camino
entre la superficie y tu cuerpo.

"... call it predictable yesterday my dream was of you..."

I'm getting published again! YEAH! This is the poem getting published in "Arcade" a short story and poetry magazine printed once a year from Central Missouri State University in Warrensburg, MO. Second time published. Rock on!!

Here it is, It's in spanish though. One of my favorites.

No me traten de entender cuando
no me entiendo yo mismo.
Déjenme intento averiguar los demonios de mi cabeza,
y los dejaré entrar en ella.

Entre telarañas y piel muerta, aún hay
partes que valen la pena.
Entre heridas abiertas y sangre seca, hay
partes que aún tienen vida.

Es un espejismo placentero lo que
muestro cuando les miento, sobre mis
pesadillas y como se vuelven realidad
cuando despierto.

Entre los actos y el recuerdo, hay una delgada
linea entre lo cierto y lo que me invento.
Entre la espera y la distancia, hay suficiente
vacío para comenzar de nuevo.

Tan fácil como me tiran, me levanto.
Tan fácil como me quiebran, sano.
Tan fácil como me escupen, se los regreso.
Tan fácil como me maten, regreso por ellos.

Entre el soñar y el despertar, tengo mi
asilo donde regreso a descansar.
Entre el golpe y el dolor, hay un instante donde
la agresión la convierto en amor.

Entre lo cuerdo y la perversión, tengo
mis fantasías y mi tormento.
Entre tu y todos mis pecados, prefiero
tu salvación.

¿Cabe mi locura en una caja? Para
envolvértela y dártela junto con mi sanidad,
son cosas que las he manejado, las he aprendido
a malabarear.

¿Tienes la capacidad de erradicar
mi soledad? No tengo mucho que perder,
pero es lo poco que me queda por apostar.

Entre tus perfumes y sabores, son los mas
exquisitos en mis fantasías y sus requisitos.
Entre tu cuerpo y el mío, existe una sincera
salvación, promesa en un perfecto futuro.

It's time to re-direct my thoughts somewhere else, towards my future; towards this trip to a northern land, a place surrounded by a lake, a body of water surrounded by land.

Pennsylvania waits for me Wednesday, the trip of my life I could call it because It will decide what I'll do with my life for the next two years. For the next two years I wish to leave.

"... I feel summer creeping in and I tired of this town again..."

I need to re-direct my thoughts away from this doubt; from this wish to had seen her in that dress on her birthday. I still cannot believe she wore a dress. She always did things like those when I wasn't around.

I need to re-direct my thoughts to somewhere far away, put myself back on top of that water tower where no worry could reach me; where my mind was nowhere else except atop that water tower. I need to go back to that place and feel the wind trying to throw me off the top; I want to climb that hill again; I want to smell those trees; I want to sit in that bar one more time.

Pennsylvania awaits, a calmer and welcome colder weather and a lake that will see me many times during sunsets. I will be there If I ever leave. I need to leave; I want to leave.

Pennsylvania, Peru, Africa, around Mexico, anywhere where I'm not recognized and people aren't asking me "Why did you go and do that stupid thing?" I believe I can be a brand new person in a brand new place.

I think I can... I think I can. (toot, toot!!!)

It's time to re-direct my thoughts to whatever other possibilities I have what with relationships or things I want. It's time to milk this need; It's time to milk it dry.

Have fun at Bob Dylan.

"... y los celos, así como la incertidumbre, comienzan a entrar en mi cabeza..."

I need another water tower; I need another breath of fresh air; I need another hill to climb; another pond to throw bones in.

I swear to God I tried, If you think I just let it go because of nothing you're wrong, but you can believe whatever you want.

She looks great and, as difficult as it might seem she has changed in these past three weeks. She finally pierced her nose, something she's been wanting to do for months but for some reason or the other she never did it; she dyed her hair red again after a malfunction turned her hair a very sexy jet black. She never liked that color anyway.

She called me to tell me she had things to give me back; things she didn't want anymore; things she didn't need. So I went to her house and she came out with a box in her arms, she gave it to me, I mentioned her new piercing and different hair, I said I was sorry again and she said she was as well. I left. Not even 5 minutes passed and I was back on my way home. I didn't want any trouble; I didn't want to have an argument.

I did not notice until I got home what the box actually had inside, it was all the things I gave her in the last 3 years; pictures, letters, small details, things we'd buy; everything was in that box, neatly organized and packed. I called her telling her these things weren't mine, that I had given them to her, she replied saying that having those things hurt her and that I can do whatever I want with them, including throwing them away since I'm so good at doing that.

I could tell she was still mad, she had something in her eyes I cant quite explain, but that's nothing new though, I could never really read her so I cant really be sure what in the world she was feeling when she saw me earlier today. Probably just complete indifference; probably uncontrollable hate; maybe nothing.

"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."

It's amazing how a person is willing to throw away great memories because of someone else's incapacity to keep moving on but, then again, I guess I did the same. It pains me that this is over but I felt I could keep going much further before something worse happened. I know for a fact that I would cheated on her, but I haven't still.

The truth is I'd only seen her once before as passionate about our relationship as when I broke up with her, and that was when it all of this began. It surprised me to see her say all those things she did that day trying to convince me, she's not one to implore or beg but that's the closest she ever gone. If only it were like that.

She can think what she wants though, I don't have the right to give her my opinion on what's right or wrong anymore, just like with this things she gave me back, I have no room for them here but I cant force her to take them back. She probably thinks I'm fine with it; that I've thrown away all of her stuff away. So wrong. I haven't thrown anything away.

And I don't think I will. I'm sorry

If I was not at work at this very moment, I'd be somewhere else outside of town. Take me out.

Si estuviera trabajando en este momento, estaría en otro lugar fuera de esta ciudad. Sáquenme de aquí.

This is insomnia again.

One more time, waking up at 6:30 A.M. on a Saturday.

- Insomnia is when you cannot sleep.
- Insomnia is when your body shuts down but your mind decides to work overtime.
- Insomnia is when you could write an entire book in a single night if only you could write as fast as the thoughts racing through your head.
- Insomnia is when is waking up every 20 minutes trying to figure out if what you just saw was a dream of a thought. When your half asleep with a half drunken head It's complicated to tell.
- Insomnia is when you start counting the cracks on the roof or you imitate the sounds outside.
- Insomnia is when you have too many things to think about.
- Insomnia is when you just cant shut off.
- Insomnia is the perfect time to jerk off.
- Insomnia is when is when you don't have... what you want.

I see things during those 20 or so minutes I can stay asleep but I cant know for sure if they're dreams or passing memories or thoughts. Hard to tell. So instead of sleeping I've been awake since 6:30 A.M. trying to figure out what to do.

She gave me a note in one of my dreams; we were all muddy trying to walk somewhere, the mud was up to our waist but we could still walk. I couldn't read what the note said though.

I'm so falling asleep at work today.

My house is deserted at the moment and I'm by myself. Any other person would think this is an excellent opportunity to invite someone over, maybe I should. It's a bout freaking damn time for a breakdown again.

I don't think I'll be able to do much with so little sleep though hehehe. Would be embarrassing but, at least, it would be something, and something sounds so good right now.

Just so I'm clear, I'm not guilty of anything except being to damn malleable.

Dos días me dieron y dos días fueron lo que necesité para olvidar los recuerdos; las promesas y estos últimos años.

Me cansa el esperar, mas cuando con cada sol que amanece aparece un nuevo cuerpo que me ofrece despertar.

No la saboreé, apenas la rocé pero mi mente fue lo que jugueteó con la idea de olvidarte.
Dulce olvido; dulce falta de conciencia con la que sufro.

Me haces falta pero ella está mas cerca, a un pasillo que caminar y tres puertas que contar para llegar a la suya.

Dos días fueron suficientes para olvidar todas nuestras fantasías, travesuras y escasas perversiones que solo mi alma carga.

Dos días para decir “La merezco;” dos días para vivir sin conciencia y convertirme en bastardo.

No la probé, apenas la miré recostada sonriente y prácticamente descubierta.
Sus ángulo agudos y vientre tan plano; su cuerpo tan divino como el que mas conozco.

…Y me trato de convencer que la merezco, que más que una prueba esto es un regalo. Me digo esto para no deshacerme al darme cuenta que por dos días ella ocupó tu lugar.

What a way to freak someone out.

Good job, dumbass.

This predicament seems to fill the air now.

She reads my words I know, in this situation it's hard not to. She reads what I want people to know about me, just like I've done for all this time. It's easy to lie when you've got nothing better to do. I admit I am not in the hole I thought I would be in but that is just that I did not take my time getting out of it.

It's so simple to go with this flow, you feel like crap so keep on feeling like crap; you feel like the world is going to end, might as well let it end. I've had enough of that, I've had enough of having to pick myself up long after I've fallen down and the ground getting used to me. I've been there most of my life, It's time I get up. It was probably that situation that made me start climbing up so quickly, It's also the fact that most people think I started feeling like crap when I finished the relationship. Just goes to show how good I am at hiding things.

So I'm starting a new damn life, If I don't deserve better than feeling like crap then someone make sure to tell me and I'll do my best to let you down, even if I have to do it again. I'm finally experiencing things that, for one reason or another, I've denied myself either because of my morals or someone else's.

If I go out of town It's because I'm beginning to hate this place again.

I'm not incredibly happy but I'm feeling pretty damn OK.

At least I deserve that.

I wanted to change her so much, TOO MUCH. That did not make me feel entirely well, It showed that it was not fair to change her that much when I most likely needed something else. These three years have made us know each other entirely but, maybe, this relationship should have in between the distances, maybe that way every time time we'd leave each other we'd start idealizing each other enough for this to be new and perfect every short time we'd see each other.

It wasn't fair to end it the way I did but there was no other way, I could not continue feeling like I was, pretending I was fine; pretending I didn't have unsatisfied needs; pretending I had enough with our perfectly constructed emotional core. I needed what people less responsible than I were acquiring.

I wanted change but I didn't want to change her, every time I tried I felt worse so I just simply gave up. Call me whatever you want; tell the world I disappointed you again; I've never told anybody how you made me feel. But you and I are different; you and I don't think alike; don't speak alike. At least not anymore.

I'm just too tired of feeling used to the damn ground.

Here's to disappointments, they will never leave your life; here's to trying to make impossible promises, you will ALWAYS hurt someone. Here's to whatever good of me remains in you.

Happy birthday

Talking about how I used to be. I found this old post from four years ago.

"CORNFIELD"

You know, I wish I was someone else,
be the same but be someone that stayed,
someone that lived right next to your door.

I'd walk out back, behind my house,
into the cornfield at night, waiting
for the moon to go up and give me some light.

We'd sit and talk, I'd take away that
fear you have of your cornfield and backyard.

You know, I wished you were someone else,
be the same but be someone that followed my way,
someone that lived right next to my door.

You'd walk out to the driveway and into the street
at noon, I'd be coming home from all my day acting
like a fool.

We'd sit and talk, I'd take away that fear you have
of your cornfield and backyard.

I'd walk out back, behind my wish into the cornfield
to find someone waiting under a moon that's giving
us some light.

"Turns out not where but who you're with what really matters."

Enough beating around the fucking bush... I've been beating around it all my life. Whatever I feel I need to do I will; whatever I just feel like doing I will. I can't just stand by and let people pass me by.

I've been finding a way out of this "half life" and you've helped take a huge leap forward. These kind of experiences, these completely new memories, are exactly what I needed to realize there can be so much in something so simple...


... a tree can bring in a peculiar scent;
... an uphill climb can not only bring tired lungs, but an unexpected (and probably unwanted) kiss;
... a water tower can be the top of the world, rust on your back and the whole world disappeared;
... perverted conversations can make someone calm down, can become a cold shower;
... driving those winding roads can represent the roads in my mind, easier to walk them when there's someone letting me steer;
... a soundtrack for a five hour trip can be the soundtrack for an idea, a desire;
... a cold goodbye can be a possibility of an even better, more acquainted reunion;
... making fools of passing drivers, making fools of ourselves;
... the smallest of towns never seemed to close to the center of the world.


"... hello my friend It seems your eyes are troubled. Care to share your time with me? Would you say your feeling low and so, a good idea would be to get it off of your mind..."

"... see you and me have a better time than most can dream of it. Better than the best. So we can pull on through. Whatever tears at us, whatever holds us down but if nothing can be done we'll make the best of what's around."

I praise the idea for another trip, doesn't matter where, doesn't matter when, doesn't matter if accompanied or just her, as long as I'm feeling the sun on my face and having this conversations not just in my head.

The city is constricting, throw your streets around me and squeeze. I need to leave the city I never quite left.

I need to stop beating around the fucking bush. I need not feel embarrassed about these feelings; I need not feel ashamed or guilty; I need not feel other people's pain anymore.

It's been a long while since It's been OK to feel this way.

Whatever happens; whatever doesn't happen; whatever we make of it; whatever we do or don't, there are no regrets, no hard feelings.

I've just felt so free to breath.

It's a good day.

I'm trying to purge all my older writings as soon as I can. It's time to change; It's time to leave that hurt behind.

"I'm not happy," is an understatement. It's the least I can say when I have so much at stake.

The sounds that drown my head; the voices that cloud my ears. I have you by my side but I'm looking at someone else.

History repeats and written it remains, the more I read the more I want to forget. I want to start from the end.

"I'm incompetent," is and understatement. Whatever triumph I gained is only a mask to hide what I've left behind.

I'm lost and I don't want to be found. Can't you see that this pain I feel is the best I've ever had? I feel comfort in pain and pleasure is the same.

The distance only clears when I stop to breath. Still, you wont feel safe to get close to me.

It's simply who you are.

Fists clenched tightly for the punches I throw at myself, these bruises under my skin and all my hidden scars have been from my own hands.

Confess to me something, ANYTHING!!! I don't want to feel I know all your life.

Give me something to hate you with.

Head tilted back, forcing my eyes to the sky and the ocean. Instead I fall back and land far from where all this began; and so it fades again.

At the risk of sounding overly dramatic, existence is sorely overrated. How much you do and how long is remembered is equal to how easily you can be replaced.

Expendable; unnecessary and cannon fodder.

Words are less and actions are imitations. If the world is so small, why are we so keen on keeping it to ourselves?

Destroy it and turn it to dust, let it fill my lungs and choke me 'till I'm dead.

At the risk of sounding overly dramatic, death is exciting to me. What better reason to live than the exquisite promise of a demise.

Murdered; suicide or old age.

Days are just seconds that fill the hours of the only day I'm allowed to speak.

"Death brings me closer to peace."

As cruel it may be, one is teased with the thought of death an instant after birth.

Not allowed to act but only to wait for the person or the day that would do me the favor of doing me in.

Easier to lay underground than to deal with it everyday.

Jesus Herbert Christ. I gotta lighten up.

At least I'm far from where I was five months ago.

(This text will continuously change with every detail that comes back to me.)

"For weeks now we've neither slept nor breathed no motion, just like a painted ship upon a painted ocean."

The trip was planned for months, always wanting to leave but always finding a reason big enough for me to stay home, build up more a aggression, more necessity to leave. Situations have changed suddenly, recently, quickly and it took so little for me to finally be able to leave. Not the most unbelievable corner in the world; not the most incredible; not the most hidden or mysterious but a place that holds memories of my past, fond ones of my childhood in forgotten castles surrounded by woods which were covered in snow; memories where all I had was a car or a sled that I slid down a slope or down a hill, into trees, rocks or incoming cars. I guess I had a thing for being thrown one way or the other into moving traffic.

It never took too much for me to want to go, I just needed a good reason, something bigger than the reason making me stay.

I invited myself, during a half drunken proposition, halfway between here and another destination in an opposite direction. All it took was a promise of colder winds and a few hours.

The highway was as introspective as It's always been for me, rummaging through the feeling and the words I would later tell myself to remind me why I left home to reach this place. All comfort; finally an opportunity to sleep.

With the scenery changing, the flat desert turning into wooded highlands, 6747 Ft above in the air; above the whole world; barely being able to breath; barely being able to speak when I wasn't speaking to myself.

First day and by myself looking for a change, finding the town looked smaller than 10 years ago. The truth being that, as everything, back then the world seemed larger and more promising.

I held my ground by myself for hours there with the lights and the music; the cold wind outside and the drink warming me up. Small oblivious invitations were made, to which I would just smile and reply: "I'm here by myself." The lights from the alcohol in my eyes brought words written on forgettable paper, as forgettable as memories I deny remembrance. I was alone and I was with myself. I was enjoying my solitude without feeling the accustomed loneliness.

Day turned into night, even colder air, even more words appeared only to disappear between ink and wet paper of tabletops and bar counters. Words disappeared in a blurry example of everything I decided to forget. I felt free.

Slept like a rock; for weeks it seemd. I felt as if the hours lasted days and that night I slept a whole years worth of sleep.

I woke up with a voice, a sudden change had stolen an hour from this visit, suddenly I found myself in hurry to find myself where I had decided to lose it all. I was bound for the road earlier than I thought.

Woods surrounded me once more, it a was a peace I hadn't felt in years; it was an independence I hadn't ever experienced. It was a trip for myself, a trip of introspection; a trip to learn to live without a pillar to lean on; to learn how to balance myself on a wire instead of leaning against a solid wall.

I took my time ending my stay; I took to the road surrounding the houses and hills I remembered; the old abandoned castle in the woods and the cabin that kept me from the cold and those few encounters with bears I barely remember now. The scent of pine and the mountains presence, I was there and I was everywhere, my lungs were filtered and my sight finally found a way to leave all the routinely sights I take in everyday behind.

Mid-day around Midtown, there I found people to see and things to do before things even happened. I had minutes just for myself and no one else. I took it as my time to silently celebrate.

Company crossed the street, barely barefoot breaking the law like any respectable felon would. First company in days, hours or weeks; first sight in God knows how long. We walked through Midtown, up and down It's entire street finding trees with peculiar scents that reminded me of stains in my room that stuck in my overactive imagination.

She took me places; showed me the hidden sights of town; sights she memorized herself; places she shared with someone else before. Walking in the mud, my boots all muddy and her bare feet just as much. Showing me her misplaced collection of death; her incomplete catalog of bones long bleached in the sun only to see her throw them in the water, watch them sink and become lost forever in "Bill's Pond."

Climbing to the top of the world, fighting gravity; fighting the lose ground and thin air all around. I was shown where all the sea of green below me flowed and waved as if it were moving from one place to the other. The wind and the trees were playing a pleasant trick on my eyes.

On top of this world we laid speaking words straight into the air letting the wind carry them to wherever they were to go, if someone were to have heard us I would not have cared. I was riding a watertower to the top of the world.

All these "watertower confessions," all of those words spoken that never fell on more comfortable ears, that were never spoken by such carefree lips, such small lips.


The memories we spoke off; the experiences we described; the newly remembered turning points that shaped our lives, everything described in words of past present and future. The perversions that those words brought, the sweet images and laughs it brought to our cheeks; all of those were carried by the wind into the mountains and are still flying long after we had come down. We might have stayed there the rest of the day but the cold air invited us to a warmer place.

Burning my hand with the coldest of compressed airs, being dramatic about it and her reading me the haikus written in times before all of this was even imagined. Having tied in impossible matches; impossible to tie; does that mean she did the impossible then? "Greasy hands", and shamans recommending searching for guidance among the stars, words derived from the sweetest of alcohols; from the sweetest of her personal cohorts.

Conquering the town, street by street, memorizing my way back if I ever had to return to do the same, all along listening to the soundtrack for this trip, hearing words that spoke "of a revolution" that threatened this time was about to end.

We toasted to goodbyes. If you give her a couple of beers she'll give you her Texan accent; she'll give you words of painted boats on painted oceans and a horses that are short.

Goodbyes are always cold and this one was no different. The friendship we share is better left unbroken by other darker intentions, like those described on top of the world. At least not now; at least not ever until we have all the time we need for what we want it for.

She passed me by, her highway was different than mine. Her eastern destination left he sun far behind while my southern ending gave me a reddish dwindling copilot.

Coming back I see all these familiar sights, those exact lights I so eagerly left behind just a day before. But returning now with a soundtrack that carried the taste of her tongue made me see those lights in a far more friendly darkness.

And so I returned to the place I so quickly left. Not a minute went by on this trip that wont be on my mind tomorrow; not a feeling or word will be lost. All the air I breathed I'm breathing it still; all the sun I soaked I'm feeling it still. It's keeping me warm.

This way it ends where it started. Time to get back to reality, time to be responsible once again.

"If only she knew, what would I do? Would I run? Maybe stick around just for fun. Would I take you out just us two. That would be grand. If only she knew."

And so I can only quote myself right now: "... 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..."

"Everything looks so perfect from far away..."

   Know this and know it well, I'm not here to appease or achieve over you.
   Know me and you know someone else, for I always pretend and constantly invent.

I'm not here to overcome, for I am the obstacle for everyone.
I don't have purpose unless destroying the purpose of someone else.

Watch me destroy; watch me sink you along with me.
Watch me ignore; watch me turn a blind eye to my own.

   I shouldn't care for all I do is a fib. I should not stare at what dares understand me.
   If you say you know me the you know someone else that I do not know myself.

I thought I wanted; I thought I needed. All I found was what little you intended.
Forget me if you will, for my name can spell much more to you that just who I am.

Forget me if you will, for I am a part of your past that you've left behind and dead.

We have very little idea of what we've done, you have no wind fir these sails anymore.
There's no wind for us both.

   Your solid alibi keeps me cold, shudders my body and keeps the rest of me closed.
I'll eat the lie with all the poison I digest, just to keep you calm and at a distance.

Are you drifting away? Because I haven't moved from my place.
Is it you who is going or me that's staying?

   Whispering half truths mixed with utter lies so to confuse my head while I pretend to die.
I'll eat the lie that dangles at the tip of your tongue while you keep me calm, while you keep me tied.

   This life bears too much poison, one hundred years
   may not be enough for some but It's too much for this boy.

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.