it's 4:35 in the morning. i look at people talking on a screen, trying to justify their actions. the delay is long, as i try to understand, to be in their shoes, but i feel nothing. looking into the past, laughter and smiles, moments to remember, feelings to embrace? but i feel nothing... the experiences lived show the world has a lot to offer. these experiences blur with the truth, my truth. i try to find myself and i get lost in grief. i force myself to love, to share love, to call out for love, to express love... but it's all forced. i feel nothing. i think of shinta. she loved me. she didn't judge me. she didn't try to take advantage of me. she felt my pain and offered love in return. i wish she was still with me. i open myself to the opportunities and the responses i get... i don't trust them. i gave myself away for a decade, and was discarded like the trash i've always been. my hands tremble and my strength lingers far like a star i try to grab. the hollow...
Si los cayos hablasen no hubiese forma de callarlos. Los caminos andados han traido tantas experiencias que resulta casi imposible no pensarlas. Experiencias que no se comparten con todos, pero que todos los que llegaron a viejos en algún momento experimentaron. Las personas, los sueños, las ojotas, los compañeros del viaje han sido buenos. Tanto, que serán parte del viaje aun cuando ya no estén a tu lado. Quejas no caben, pero no todo ha sido color de rosa, pues hasta las rosas traen espinas que penetran y beben la hemoglobina como jugo fresco en verano. Van dejando cicatrices para la posteridad que sirven de mapa en la lucha constante. Esas rayas de tigre que nos hacen fuertes, son las mismas que nos recuerdan que alguna vez fuimos frágiles. Como los pétalos de esa rosa que tanto nos enseñó. Permitirse reconocer el pasado da energía para no temer al pernoctar en el camino. La seguridad de la experiencia es la armadura que protege al chiquillo interior, curioso e inmortal. El haberse ...
Benzene and hydrogen cyanide The kiss that never stops As I bathe in iodine May this be the one who mocks The sound of the crash course Unlimited unknowns Taken by the bloddy resource Through the path of broken bones Nothing has ever healed If the sticks don't quit the poke Perhaps the way to yeild Is to hold the weight and fold Words that never cared How heavy was the load Carrying dead bodies ahead In silence, they mourn Let the strings play my tune Dry the skin the devils harvest Open up that fucked up wound And may it rot in darkness This prejudice is real It reminds me what is what The little things I fear Are my demons staring back.
Comments