Saving a life

In order to lead people you got to have some place to go

Will it suffice for me to want to shrink, yet grow?

Accumulated stars want to break free from constellations,

It’s like pulling wire out of wood, and designing glass instead


A broken clock may be right twice a day, but what’s the use, only for a minute?

We’re not on the same wavelength, just the same ocean

Everyone thinks the tide they bring surpasses any previous one

Don’t they know that their efforts flow just the same?


Imaginary floods, wipe out what could crash us by mistake

The unpredictable, a blessing or a curse, whatever you want

This beautiful mess, symbolizes what you think you know

What a tragedy that this is what connects us whole:

Not knowing


The whites and blacks in your piano, play themselves their own color

And you thought you created music?

What if I showed you your fingerprints under a microscope?

Would you think yourself capable of scarring the whole world?


It’s like asking paper how many times it would like to be smashed

Before you rip it without a second thought

Or asking ice what temperature it would like to melt to

And you thought you could save a life…

Leaves amidst the breeze

The rug that got pulled out from under us

We pulled out from under ourselves


How outdated does this dictionary have to be

For modern words

Cannot possibly compare

To crumbled, bygone leaves

Falling on your head,

like autumn materializing to unbidden fantasies


Streetlights

Hunching, growing weak

Bending further as you walk away

Dimming their own beam

A soft, overgrown illusion of steam

Minding its own peace, seeking its own purpose

Something bricks and bones claimed they could redeem


Popping balloons

with just a pin

was enough

Why so much trouble, why the heavy cartridge?

Did you want the room, to engross the splashing rubber

On all fours?

I think you did

You wanted it to stick

You wanted it to dissolve into the walls, into the paint

Into the cracks,

Onto another room


And suddenly

It’s not the world on your shoulders

But the weight upon your feet

Have you ever dug in, eroding, to a floor you barely know?

If it’s this brutal on the surface, imagine how it’d be beneath’

This is where

judging a book by it’s cover, will do you good

It’ll do us all some good.

Hysteria

Choosing to stay afloat
on a mirage of ghosts that were supposed to stay unseen.
To the openness of day
and closeness of the dark.
By dawn
How untimely
To overwhelm each other with a
yearning to scorn
And spit
at another croaking insect
For digging up its own hole
And crying at its own funeral
We can’t feel remorse
Atleast pity the pity, no?

º º º

Lately,
magnets have been pretending to be stones, you know?

The rarest gems in the world were once stones,

Some you break in half to undress wisdom

Some you see through, to really see at all

Some you leave there lying, as if they weren’t already dying

º º º

Use and abuse the small, collect this pocket-fit, nameless cause

Prolonged superstitions, how long till you pile this desire

to want to own the way they crawl?

º º º

Teach me worth, and I’ll teach you value

º º º

I can’t hold this quill any longer

It stabs and stings

like a porcupine

to these whispers
As they scribble
All the screams
I can’t understand
And yet
Want you to understand

A blend of euphoria

Hysteria, my friend

a whirlpool as I see it…

The world is fine

If people wanted to see only the things they wanted to comprehend
They wouldn’t have to go to theaters
Dumpsters would’ve sufficed

My mind
Taking photographs

Staring long enough at a distant shore
Until it reminds me of
the times I discard
Tragedy for comfort
and memory, for bliss

The most forgotten things
Swirl at their own fade
And yet
They run
Towards a spiral
That sucks their age
Only to make them
Younger again

It’s like a cloud that eats another cloud
Because it found itself irresistible
Tasted like cotton candy
But
Puked itself away
Only to
Scatter in the midst
Of pieces
Of its own flesh

Or maybe
A chair that didn’t want to be sat on
Because it was tired of kissing backs

Or fragrance
That didn’t want to be wasted
On odor of the most repulsive kind

Why do people
Have to repaint
What was painted over well at first?
Guess the need to maintain an image
with another image
onto another
makes people think, you have a dynamic personality
And that’s how master pieces are judged
‘Look, I made this mess
Into another mess
So you could see yourself in it
And stare in awe at your own reflection’

Ink
Was tired
Of pouring itself over pure sheets
And wasting itself over rotten thoughts
As if they ever benefited, the need to avoid silence
It wanted
The writers’ fingers
To dip in it
And rub a blot
Over a nose
That had forgotten the smell
Of his own ideas

Could you really
Trip on shoes you wore
two sizes big?
Than why
Do you untangle
Hair
That wants to be braided?

It takes a second heart
To rip a chest wide
And be more
But we gain what we risk
At jeopardy

It’s a twisted thought
A needle
On masses
Of communications
Controlling the whole circuit!
Turn it one way
And only one channel sings
Turn it another
And another hits a home run
Turn it up
And they want it off
Turn it low
Cover your ears
Tell them
Its the signals
that don’t work
The world is fine
The world is fine.

Unfinished bridges

Emptying a mind

Containing too much

The human mind

Isn’t it amazing?

It can adjust a whole lot to it,

It can adjust anything to it…

And so, you do what you got to do

to give unfrequented thoughts the companionship they need

By reading someone else’s

By trying to fit, into someone else’s.


Sometimes
It’s just a craving
To wind up different clocks
You stopped looking at

They still tick
If you don’t look at something
Doesn’t it become useless?
And yet
The useless
Becomes useful
Only when it’s noticed
By someone
Getting tired
Of his own boredom

It’s pathetic
This habit
‘Beauty, only beauty, when noticed.’
I guess
I fall in love with destroyed places
Because they had once been beautiful
But tragedy happens
And not everything
Wants
To be discovered

Isn’t it true though?
people dig up past
Only when it’s dirty

Isn’t it false though?
People only care
When you care

I feel old
‘Old’
Such a small word
In a big world
And yet
You value its existence
Only when you’re tired
And want youth
To do for you
What you couldn’t do for you.
Like a bridge you built
Unfinished
Almost crossed it
Jumped near it’s end, it still needed a few more bricks
But this youth
Can’t even cross it midway
And yet
You expect them
To build another one
Because after crossing it yourself
You tore it down
And raised a flag
To signal them
That you made it

Red waves
In a sea
Red floods
In a river
The seas now cry
Bloodshed eyes
Why did you slit open a shark in half
Only cause’ you thought it dangerous?
You could’ve limited the lines!
You could’ve put a sign
DO NOT CROSS
YOU TWATS
YOU HAVE 99% OF THE WORLD
LEAVE THIS 1% ALONE

It’s sickening
The need to want to own it all
If I can’t have peace at heart
And you feel peaceful around me
Where would that leave me?
It’s like
‘Hey, I’ve had my lunch
Wanna have dessert’?
While they know
That you haven’t eaten
In three days

And the sad part is
You don’t even like the look
Of your reflection
On a crystal clean
Wiped table
While you wait
For a waiter
Waiting
For his shining armor
To turn into a suit
And sue himself
For marketing the food
He didn’t even like himself.

Nature’s cruelty

Time plays tricks on the mind and soul
Tired of all this itching, claiming to be pure
Maybe the den can call out on all its wolves
And let the full moon mourn over the calls

of all these midnight storms

Idols want to be normal
Maybe fame wants to disappear

I wish the world was gray, but even then,

the ‘gray’ would be grayer even without colour

superior than some, darker than the sun,

lighter than from where we had once begun.

And the rest were easy come, easy go

Dust blew itself away
From books that were read but never understood
And nature collapsed on the floor, into the dirt, beneath its own roots
Asked itself if it was ready to diffuse, away from this abuse

Hunger can never kill appetite
Shame, for you were the fly going after leftovers!
The rest splashed onto oceans like cannonballs, while you only got the spits, the drops

Let’s hear the train of thoughts that went by uninvited,
Tempting the side blood brothers feared to taint

A walking contradiction
A mysterious reason to slow down, to settle down
Why settle down? When discomfort is the sweetest home
Let them be, the crazies, where will they flee?
Prejudice never stood a chance

Couldn’t resist to stare at an owl,

All this time you only wondered as to why it stared at you.

Then later, laughed at yourself when it pissed on your shoulder,

‘Man, nature’s cruel.’

And then you acknowledged the fact that

everything and everyone carried dirty little secrets…

You started wishing to swim in the mud and come out clean
To blindly remove a blindfold and suck the life out of a rabbit hole
To knock on tree trunks for ants to emerge to the surface, 
Then call an anteater to fix the ugly.

Rare days

There are rare days

⋅⋅⋅

When the sun sets before it’s his turn
To go to sleep and let the moon dominate

⋅⋅⋅
A world where there is no sin
But at the same time no blessing

⋅⋅⋅

Glory comes with it
Through stars that sing with their bodies
Like a chameleon seeking fortune
Amidst the sea and blue skies of eternity

⋅⋅⋅

Digging through midnight
Like nightcrawlers
We play
And hijack a few pieces in the leftovers
Of yet another passing light
Mistaken for a movie theatre
We escape moments
Not knowing
Stealing them away was as easy
As making a newborn smile
With a blow from your palms

⋅⋅⋅

We tend to live in a dream
In an arctic
With the land of the mignight sun
How pure
That the sun doesn’t set for half
And the moon for the rest
To give eachother peace
Like ‘hey, you have your dream, I’ll have mine’
How kind
How selfless
For nature to let eachother grow
But for us humans
To strangle eachother
Pierce our bones with
Plastic
And still blame the opposite
For not dying
Yet not surviving enough

⋅⋅⋅

The human mind
Is mesmerizing to
The inside of monsters

we call monsters
You see
It can fit an awful lot of things

to it
Where in a prehispanic era
We didn’t even know it existed

⋅⋅⋅

Kites fly high

somewhere for us

to elevate our character

⋅⋅⋅
I wish children knew
They were signaling us
To let ourselves loose
If we find
The love that’s meant to tie us further to the seventh sky
It doesn’t

⋅⋅⋅

How can you say what Hitler did was evil

and still be ugly to folks right at home?…

I wonder…

⋅⋅⋅

I guess

That it’s not in stainless character
But a canvas
An oil painting
With a thousand layers
Of dirt
Wishing, waiting for the spot on lightning
That will make each stroke worth it
And it’s then
that we’ll live

With eclipses as background

Forever.