composure

"I would like my body to be decomposed into little pieces as i am laying down
...in a matter of thirty seconds."

-not working.

"I would like my body to be decomposed into little tiny pieces as i am laying down
..in a matter of thirty seconds. now!"

-oh still not working.

"i would like to regain my composure and collect the little pieces i had left unattended in back alleys of my dark past. "

-maybe?

i wanted to know who that little child was
..who's been hiding in all my pictures
i never found out what the name was.

i would like to wake up early everyday- really early-every-day-just to see if i could do it.

himmm, no.

i said "a pink pony with stars on its tail"
when the man with kargo pants,who makes the black paintings
asked me what i want for christmas.

i didn't want to tell him
if i were to have one-
it would probably die shortly after
because i would forget to feed it.

"that's more like it"

I want to tell you all my secrets.
But not really.
I want you to want to know all my secrets.
More like it.

I want to find that warm spot on your body
that will fit my head perfectly

I want to touch the tip that will erupt in pure pleasures.

I want to kiss your eyelid every morning
just before you wake up
on the right side.

I want to hold your fortunes in a cookie jar,
and offer one to you
everytime you misbehave

But not really.

I want to taste your bitterness.
More like it.

i find myself listening to song for jo
on the subway this afternoon
i taste the bitter residue my candy cigarettes left on my throat
that velvet voice never leaves my head:
"why do i have to be so black and blue?"

dreamless

tears drop down on my face
a dreamless night
images of you
conquer the silence
of the darkness
within me
nowhere near
not anywhere to be found
a constant wait
wait for an endless calm
play each note of my humble existence
I am vulnerable
I have been broken
I have gone
taken the colors away
slow
still
sudden
I expose a monochrome being

listen to the song i wrote for you

unforsaken

Words stay prettier when they are unuttered-
-unspoken, undisclosed, undiscovered...
Silence makes the best companion sometimes,
and ocean moves with its healing powers displaying its omnipotence..

My silence is your resilience.

It s a black and white canvas lived through a projection light.
Embodiment with lack of the positive; contoured within their negative spaces.
The spatial relations display a displaced existence..

Body poetics define fragments of an undisclosed story

Time passes away in a manipulated passage...
This is the story of a girl--
A girl, who thrives to live the vivid memory that she had lost before she could have it.

sometimes loneliness is the only way life offers...
Floating like a white lily
-airyness--
makes our loves exist in the deepest shades of the waters...

I let you define me in so many different ways

I let myself to let you to define me

I let myself be defined by you

                                     in so many different ways.

fall - get crushed

                 by my fragile tendencies

get defined by me when let in, me in you                                                    
me let in me in you in shadows of us
allow me to trace your footsteps you left in the dark                                          
         with the pieces of sand you kept leaving behind after each step
                                                                  as you walked out.
each piece sparkle with fright as I lay my eyes on their fragile existence.
Darkness is acting out its utmost fearful state in complete silence.
I have fairy dust clenched in between my fingers waiting to be dropped fast
                 lingering down slowly down in the air.
I want it to be collected in a pile of colorful sparkle right above your lips so
I can lick it off in you sight and feed my hunger for magical mystics.

mistified in dust
misfit in borrowed time
             - with touch in lack
mislead-                     white pony

mistified in dust
misfit in borrowed time
mistyped-
mistyped characters

miss-false misfalse

mistified in dust
misfit in borrowed time
mistyped-
mistype of characters
oh mis Con!

I woke up with your arms around my waist.
I felt a sudden rush lingering upon my lips, through the links of your fingertips on my bare skin.
I started uttering the words I wanted to speak...
But all I could pronounce was my cerebral hymn.
Words exist without their letters in my head. (I only recall)
It is the visual connotations of the 'thing'.

.sudden.

!rushed.

!deteriorated. 

shusshhh...

distances along the way
u cant feel yourself
touch yourself
hear yourself

its so hard to
tell what u think
difficult to feel

there s a dark corridor
no lights
no voices
no faces
our beings
BLUR

a sudden rush
pulsing.
through-
felt from miles and miles
afar

darkness
creeps on us
the shadows
unclear

HEAR
can u hear

la persistencia de la memoria

my insides bleed from the darkness within
i give birth to dead feces every full moon
dark corridors roar with resistance
in me
i don't search for the light
i am looking at it

drooping over the persistence of memory
persistence of memory drooping over my resilience