I wish I existedI am just the soundThe old radio playsStatic and songsNeither good nor badNobody notices when it's turned offAnd I wish so hard that I existed.I am just the shadowSitting in the cornerNo eyes see meAs I watch the gamesPool, ping-pong, darts,Shouting, laughterBut no eyes see meAnd I wish so hard that I existedI am just the girlfriendObligatory lumpOn the boyfriend's sideDo his thingsMeet his needsAnd I wish so hard that I existedBut I don't
Imbolic 2007Midwinter's moonlaying lowjust above the treesOpen, full and widespilling lightfilling the whole earthMoondrops roll gentlydripping from the dark breastsand round belliesof the mountainspooling deep in the meadowsHeavy moon-drenched snowweighing the low tree's branches
Finding Beauty 01I was out looking for the perfect violet. I though I had found one, and had just picked it, it's stem sturdy and strong in my hands, when I found Her laying in a bed of fresh green aspen leaves, their round, slightly serrated edges framing the bright fallen-leaf copper of her curling hair. Her pale face peaked in a sharp little chin. Her long, pale lashes fell on round cheeks that shined with the matte glow of a fresh-fallen yellow apple. And then I saw her wings. Transparent as a dragonfly's, they draped gracefully over her narrow back, mingling with the aspen leaves. Each had an infinitely delicate vein system in crystalline-shimmering gold, and where the veins became to small to see, I couldn't really tell if her wing was there until a slight movement made the light refract off them in a golden sparkling rainbow. I could have watched her sleeping forever, but, clumsy I, I stepped on the smallest of dry twigs, snapping it loudly.
I am the WriterI am the writer.With word as my artI draw picturesacross white paper.Smooth sentencesflow like waterfrom my fingertipsacross the keyboardonto a blank screen.I am the writer.With my wordsnations are foundedor crumble.I am the writer!The great mageswait my commandand all their magicis mine to use.It is my decisionwho will live and die,the world waitsholding their breath!I am the writer!And then I wake upand I'm nobody again.
DancingDancing by myselfwearing my favorite jeans and an itty bitty shirtand jasmine perfumewith the music so loudsinging alongwatching myself reflected in the windowand my shadow on the floorbecause there's nobody else aroundand it feels good to be me.But then you're hereand our bodies once as sure as twining snakesare strangersfull of elbows and kneesawkward anglesand blind mistakesmy rhythm is gonethe music lost in meaningless noise.Your eyes find mineand your hands guide my hipsinto a new rhythmgentler than the firstguide me to a music quieterthat only we can hearand we are nothing but two vinesgrowing on the same treeindistinguishable from each other.Then you're gone and by myself againWearing dirty jeans and your green sweatshirtthat still smells like youThe music pounding out of the speakers so loudthe floor shiverswhere my foot counts the beatbiding my timeuntil we can dance together again.
Red RaspberryLook,beneath my dark leavesbeware the thornsFindsweet ruby clustersskin tight and shinyTasteas rich as the earth I grow inas sweet as the sun that feeds meSavorevery drop of juiceas precious as the dawnTakeall you can carryspread my childrenI have given them all I can
Skies over San AngeloThere is something about youI've never been able to capture in word or form;an alluring resonance in the sadnesshidden behind your piercing blue eyes,some immeasurable substancecaught in the dulcimer tune of your voice,that tugs on my heartstringslike a sea-eyed starlet pruning her melody from a harp:A white velvet hurricane in a black satin dresswith hammers for hands and a stained glass smile,the kind of beauty the moonlight clings toand follows around at night;Calypso's golden daughter-a silver dagger in place of her tongueand a smile pieced together from a leftover sunrise;A sidewalk flower with the might of an oakthe tender heart of a lamb,and all the bewildering mystery of Minerva..The kind of Woman you see standing next to the oceanand wonder which of them is more vast.You once kissed me on my templeand five years later I still swoon at the thought-lost in the memory of silken tendrils of hairtickling the skin of my cheek,and the sweet smelling breeze you
Your parents are artistsI've been looking for the best artist in the world, someone to help me express what you make me feel...But my life goes like always, you know, covered of darkness and without going through something to break the monotony.The sky color reminds me of her eyes, her deep sad eyes, her long and sensuous fingers, her warm tongue of exquisite flavor, her tenderness masquerading as loneliness and melancholy...It becomes a great joy when falling on your psychotic world, when sink into your hugs and kisses, it becomes an immense joy.In this way, loneliness, despair and hate lead you to madness.A man devastated by the tragedy, that feels empty inside, disbelieved and immune to pain.The hate blurs the feelings, annihilates the reasoning...I sigh deeply, because I also I become a victim of your beautiful curse.And in the sweet mornings of the world, your gaze is lost on the path that leads to my death.That is why I walk with my head down, because that beauty is compared with you, and becau
- Captivated -Your lips tasteof bitter coffee and tender morningsdipped in dark chocolateto match the words whisperedever so teasingly in my earleaving this fragile heartunable to resist.
You were a mistakeYou were vodkadisguisedas water;too muchto my lips,and Ibecame sick.
El deseo del Tincho-¡Aaaaw Manu! si hubieran más vos... – dijo Martín, con una tonta risa, estirando los brazos luego de haberse hecho dueño del cuerpo del chileno una vez más.Manuel, por su lado, se cubrió el cuerpo con las sábanas, fingiendo que no le dolía el trasero.-Buenas noches – dijo.-¿Che, y mi beso? Dame el besito de buenas noches.Manuel se quedó dormido.-Sos malo, Manu- se quejó Martín -. Buenas noches – y le dio él un besito en el pelo del menor. Luego se acomodó en la cama y cerró los ojos.Cuando el sol tiñó la habitación, Martín, pesadamente, abrió los ojos.Estiró una vez más los brazos y sus dedos hicieron contacto con el cuerpo de Manuel, quien, dándole la espalda, continuaba durmiendo.-Manu, despertá que te toca hacer el desayuno – le dijo el argentino.-No poh – se quejó el otro -. No vei que anoche me diste como caja. Mí
The ConstantEveryone pretend to be kind to others, they speak of peace and love, they wish you the best, when in fact, in the depths of their hearts, they remain insidious.There are always variables, things that may you like it or not, but I'm here today to tell you about the only constant I know: you.What I am sure in this life, is that I did not come to this place just to see you, as our meeting was a happy coincidence, but to achieve a dream that will put us away from life itself, to achieve a life after death at your side.What I am sure in this life, is that the blindness in your eyes can't last forever, you will have to open them one day and realize that in your whole life, I've been at your side.What I am sure in this life, is that you should not worry, because once we dream together, not even your demons will find us.What I am sure in this life, is that I can continue with my empty heart, or a life full of your love.What I am sure in this life, is that being by your side the sky has a
SMIH ONE PIECE SanjiYou reached into the bag and when you pulled it out, you held a bunch of tiny heart shaped candies. Sanji just about lost it. "Ah! You got my candies! I'm so glad I'm paired with such a lovely lady like yourself!" Sanji's pupils became heart shaped as he handed the velvet bag to Zoro, and gently took your hand in his and kissed it."Oy..hold on a minute there, Love cook." Zoro said reaching into the bag. He pulled out a large handful of the same heart candies you had pulled out. Everyone's jaw dropped. "You little cheater! The rule was only ONE item per person." Sanji blushed sheepishly and scratched the back of his head."Oops, hehe. I guess my hand slipped a little..." He began to lead you to the closet, "Time us Chopper, seven minutes!""No, way! You get five minutes! Time penalty for cheating." Chopper said, pulling out a watch.Sanji got you both into the closet and shut the door behind him, Immediately he began moving closer towards you until he had you pinned against the wall. H
You.You were Novocaininjected straightto my veins,but what was leftwhen youwore off?only pain.
BaeThis poem is for my only bae,Whom I talk to every day,Which I enjoy in every way.We’re close no matter what,Our bonds cannot be cut.Love it may not ever truly be,But friendship is plain to see,Maybe it will be more to me,Therefore it could be we,Yet it may not so that’s life’s fee.The way you make me feel,Has no doubt to surely kill,Not a single mark from the heal.Can’t you see me struggling here,With my hand through the mirror?For you I’m forever going wild,Some kind of pleasant riled,With words so mild,You send me wild.Going through life with eyes wide,I’ll gladly spend my time to bide,If bide is what you choose to side,I will choose your side not being snide,You will not have to be afraid or hide.We have so many things in common,Whether it’s Pokémon or a problem,We’re always rockin’ our music bombin’.Screaming and screaming we dance all crazed,Uncaring of what others think cause we’re
With PicturesMy ears are heavy (blue glass stones)My heart twisted (ancient apple tree)Hiding away (rusting chainmail)When I know not whoor whatI want