Cement Oil

Contemplation brought by trepidation reminds me why toddlers crawl before walking.
These misunderstood emotions stand idle at busy intersections.
There is a comfort sought after, one once felt during a beautiful dream.
This seems unnatural, confusing.
Something is WRONG.
These aren't wandering thoughts, no. Only an engine on empty.
There is a disconnect.
Crawling from one breadcrumb to another, getting lost in between the twigs...


                              when do I run?

Personal: One Year Later

It's been one year and a day.

Nothing has been the same. I was told my choices would get easier. I remember scoffing at that.

It isn't easier. The weight on my heart remains the same, it has only shifted.

I am grateful for certain amenities, certain people, that being said...

I regret this all.

Searching: The Why

There is confusion in emotions.
Given a colorful portrait, a fumbling soul can't make a symphony.
All these pieces,
      some connecting,
             some clashing,
                     some not needed.
There is a strange comfort.
Given a routine and security, even the most anxious warrior will find peace in battle.

Not having all the answers leads to a lack of remedy. A     g   a   p.
      Heed this, little child:

        comfort brought by ignorance remains temporary until   

tremendous forces awaken winds uncovering truths.

Enjoy the confusion. 

tick-tock, merry goes the clock

Time is a man-made calibration that haunts you in the waking hours of the day.

Its expansion fills voids with temporary morbidity:
Fear,
Worry,
Death,
Loneliness.
Constant contemplation.

Thoughts long forgotten slip into the crevices we hoped would close.

Time.

This cold has settled over towns leaving decrepit structures to fend against winds.
It spreads its spores, overtaking fighting souls, entombing those who once rejoiced in their naivety.
Time is a sickness.
With each breath, each step, there is a stumble, a creak.
There is no pause. Nothing is temporary.

You can't escape this.

The Flowers in Her Hair

Her world spins her around. A new beginning. Her bare feet causing circles in the shell filled sand.
As she releases her locks from the ribbons braided within, the sea breeze carries the melody.
She hasn't danced like this in years.
Her shackled feet didn't forget the steps to her favorite waltz. Her aching heart remembers the tempo.
She remains nimble.
Her frail body sways in elegance.
This is a dance for all to see.
The crowd gasps. They see her true beauty, her true form.
She is blooming. She is growing, again.
Her hands reach for the sun. She accepts its rays of hope.
She may be malnourished & bruises, but they know, even a dying seed can bloom into the most poetic flower when given warmth and sustenance.
All she has is time & she will grow, she will dance.
Watch her bloom.

Here Take This With You: Cage the Elephant

tilt-a-whirl

It starts like this...
An uncomfortable pressure on your temples, spreading across your forehead.
Your eyes no longer belong to you. They are foreign organs jittering. Picking up changes in lighting, movement, responding to the sharp crescendos of rustling paper bags carried by the wind.
Sounds are claustrophobic. Laughs from miles away appear behind, chains among fences pound at your heart.
Your eyelids ache, your eyes, ever so sensitive beg to remain open. They have to see.
First movements are quick.
Your body reacts to stimuli, receiving them all at once. Quick. Foreign. Confusing. Overwhelming.
Each altercation with your mind more stupendous than the last. All at once.
Then    
        s l o w l y.
The floor gives way. Thick muck covers your soles, gluing you to the surface. Each step stuck to the floor, keeping you from an advance.
It's loud.
It's hot.
It's chaos.
It's defeat.

Body Dance

Sex is a connection. It's a rumbling in the veins that quickly overtakes a quivering body.
It's mushy. It's nasty.
It's sweat dripping over the skin, a savory concoction of mixtures.
There is lust. Love for lust.
Perfectly synchronized movements, cascading over sounds.
Sex is wonderful.
It is glorious.
It is a natural action that represents more than a life cycle, more than procreation. It's a momentary rush of madness, only quieted with dancing.
Feel its collision.

Crumbles of Destruction

As days roll over what lies between us continues to grow.
Once interwoven lovers become close strangers.
Schedules that once held greetings turn into quick glances and routine check-ups.
These weeds are blocking our gaze. What is a gardener to do?
Struck between paths, do they follow or pace in circles condemning memories?
Space will erode what was there.
These cliffs will fall into a lovely sea.
Crash and sprinkle they may, until a ship returns, to the forgotten bay.

Si te explicó mis pensamientos, no te asustes.

Unas veces son canciones, hermosas. Armonías hechos por dioses.
Pero algunas veces don sonidos caóticos. No tienen sentido.
------------discordant--------------
Pausas que atraen demonios de almas perdidas.
Son gritos vibrando paredes pintadas con lágrimas.
Y aveces, son tristes.
------------sorrow------------------
Llantos de madres heridas.
Don caras quemadas con dolor de amores pasados.

No entiendes, no quiero esto.
Cada pensamiento duele. Estas esposas me estan cortando mi circulación. No puedo respirar. No puedo dormir. No me dejes. No te asustes.

Esto es normal.

Music: Babasónicos

Withdrawal

There's an increase in pressure. Any surrounding air has been sucked out.
Picture this, one mind with infinite reactions; little fireworks exploding with convulsions, followed by an H-bomb.
I can't rest if I'm still.
Toss the spinners, the music is too loud & no, no, no, no, that embrace broke my bones. Intensity.
STOP

Breathe. Here it comes again.
We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you:
Connections tingles did you say die? Death. five letter word created to explain phases phases are part of the human experience according to science
STOP

Breathe. Here it comes again.
No. You can't just use those words. You're using it all wrong. When you put it all together you're disrupting the balance. Why don't you understand? You're doing it all wrong. You're using it wrong. Let me explain; you are making it all compressed and I'm feeling it in my chest. This pressure, this pressure...

STOP

Breathe, here it comes again.

This is for You.

Emotions wash over a horde of savory, charcoaled beasts.
Their limbs, once strong and mesmerizing, are now withered vines, bound to a crumbling tower.
Their power is no more.
When evil dies, where does it go?
The sentient beings gasp for air.
Their victims have learned. Their whispering spells, as sweet as they may be, do not fool them.
The day has finally come, these beasts, familiar, burnt, wicked, are drawing their last breaths.
A man stands upon their chest, panting.
Through it all, the trials, the abandon, the loss, he is victorious.
This tower will fall.

Just wait.

The Broken Vine

She is my home and I feel lost and homeless without her. I can literally feel how confused my body is not knowing what to do anymore.
I can feel my mind going dark, and my hearts broken pieces floating around in the cavity I call my chest.
I can feel ever inch of my being shatter.
I didn't know that losing them meant losing me too.
You grow with them.
You become this beautiful vine, growing along each other.
Then one day, your structure is ripped. That which you grew upon is gone.

-Chesteryaya and Miss D

soundwaves

the noise in my head won't let anything be heard.
each scream, each whisper, each laugh, becomes a jumbled mess, incomprehensible even with C A P T I O N S.
the flavors exist, sizzling with the flips, but everyone knows, an abandoned pot boils.
this static sclmrabes all the lines.
i can't be reached.
i sit and wait, wide-eyed, terrified....
listening for the homing beacon to quiet these waves

This is for you

Your name still resonates in my head even when the present carries a new whisper within the trees.
My mouth still forms for you even as the past dwindles away.
My body still dreams of you...

To erase you, would be an injustice. To forget you, would be a crime.

There is a tear deep down, one that penetrates past the coping mechanisms and the therapy, one that remembers what was real.

This is a nod to what will continue to be unattainable.
This is the pain that surfaces when selfishness leads to impulsiveness.
This is what happens when impatience breaks both parties.

You can't make peace if you started a war.

An Extended End

I haven't moved on, I just got started.

This is the way pain feels when we just parted.

Understand,

I let go of your hand.

I didn't leave you high,

I had to take a moment to let this shit dry.

This water that rolled on me like a tsunami,

please don't lay this on me.

This shrapnel has penetrated what I only thought was inch thick steel.

This is how I feel.

Can't you see, I can't even sleep.

I weep. I creep.

Double edged swords cut healing scabs,

Got me walking around like a two legged crab.

There is no peace found in broken distilleries.

See loving you these past months made me be hit by 1,000 lbs artilleries.

They weren't set to stun,

no Life brought the big gun.

I had to let go,
I didn't want you to hear my no.
This wasn't an end;
my body couldn't tolerate the bend.
Please comprehend,
this isn't our end.

20 I 20

orgasmic pain that brings me back from oblivion

...

chasing a dream that leads to folly

...

nightmares that suppress the dawn

......

colors that stain the skin,

deep hues of blue

...

the myth that we continue to believe in suffocating the reality

...

choking the limbs climbing to the sun

...

we have created our own damnation

.....

....

...

this isn't real

.

One Night

It's a bolt to my heart. I can hear it's rhythm increasing. Breath trembling.
Goosebumps. A quiver, a quake.
Hundreds of soft whispers gracing my body for the first time.
It's a sultry beckoning.
I can feel the contractions, my muscles aching, my thighs filling the gaps of space.
Each removal becoming a blank canvas for you to sink your teeth.
Paint me.
It's me twitching, waiting for another fix, a moment of guidance from your lips.
Waiting, waiting for your hands to go deeper, for your pulse to lap over mine.
Take me.

Blitzkrieg

I give in, to the breath stolen from me.
Mere seconds converted into hours, trudging their dirty claws along my clean walls.
Ruined.
These seconds have destroyed the peace, this quiet.
Tumble, tumble down. Concrete smithereens littering the ground.
Chaos.
Thoughts without leashes trespassing kept lawns.
I give in. This battle never began with hope, it began with a stolen moment, one I needed.

The Great Wide Empty

There is beauty found in solitude.
Being alone can either bring peace or fear. Two genuine, raw, primitive emotions.
Peace.
Fear. 
When no one is there to hear your words,
When the echo has faded into the vast oblivion, and the sounds become indistinguishable,
When your enemies are vanquished,
When the soft side of the empty bed is the only comfort you have,
Tell me, what do you feel?

rock-a-bye-tonight

There is a sweeping motion, call it a wave.
It brings forth tidings of dissonance, pain, memories, and sleep.
Sometimes it comes at you ten feet tall. & you standing there, waist deep in sand,
well,
you're already stuck.
Then,
there are those blissful waves.
Their siren song lures you to sleep.
This lullaby is tiresome.
All your energy will drift away, while the next waves returns.
each one coaxing you into a sweet slumber.

My Blight

Spiny, black decayed flesh reaches for me. This is rot.
If you can't see it, you don't tremble.
You don't understand. This chaos. This fear.
One hand reaching for me. Settling at my neck. This is death.
Don't breathe it in. Don't let it hover.
My alarms have gone off. You can't hear them, I can.
This is the beginning of the infection.
From one thought to another, never ending, never ceasing to relax.
There is no disinfectant. Fight it, but there will be no triumph.
Don't give in to the contamination.
Breathe it in, suffocate.


This is how you break.