I'm missing you
the stars
the moon
the faint sky
i breathe you
desperate
i want to
kiss your mouth
and not care
about the distance
my compass
i'll find me one
i'll get there
beside you
my haven
the heaven of a
heart - sunken
somewhere a
familiar spot a
lovely eden
My point is... my heart is torn knowing that when i close my eyes to sleep, my beloved awakes to see a new sun... the sun i saw this morning.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
High Times
Mary Jane. Oh, MJ. My hands are shaking. Your high is a little higher than I thought. It makes me shiver. Speedball. The taste's a Ganja. The heavens open up and I am confused... has it given me wings? Now, I feel like I am flying. Flying above the highest cloud, but dragging myself down to the bottom. I swim in the unfathomable ocean of wonders and lovely thoughts.
I cry because my girl is with you. She flows in your system. She's taken over you. Her strength is more supreme than my love. And my love... you refuse to feel now.
Anytime, you hurt me. Everytime, you say you're sorry. I am dreamy... faraway...wistful. Call 911. This pickle. This hurt. It's too real. Oh, Mary Jane! What have you done Love?
I cry because my girl is with you. She flows in your system. She's taken over you. Her strength is more supreme than my love. And my love... you refuse to feel now.
Anytime, you hurt me. Everytime, you say you're sorry. I am dreamy... faraway...wistful. Call 911. This pickle. This hurt. It's too real. Oh, Mary Jane! What have you done Love?
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Moony-Moony
I wonder how love becomes hurt and why love becomes the remedy of hurt itself.
Privacy. Space. These two can kill me. I hate silence. I hate not knowing. I hate that nothingness... but I respect individuality.
I cannot elaborate more on what's eating me now. The world seems to love gnawing at me. It savors my weakness. It explores my limitation....
I stop writing now. I took a pill. Its shape is irregular. The dosage given - a ton of understanding.
Privacy. Space. These two can kill me. I hate silence. I hate not knowing. I hate that nothingness... but I respect individuality.
I cannot elaborate more on what's eating me now. The world seems to love gnawing at me. It savors my weakness. It explores my limitation....
I stop writing now. I took a pill. Its shape is irregular. The dosage given - a ton of understanding.
Friday, January 30, 2009
Yosi Break
Slick
White
Smooth
whisper
your longing
let me
smoke it
Take
one fag to
the world
leave the
other
[to me] so
i can
burn
Burn
Live
Be Human.
White
Smooth
whisper
your longing
let me
smoke it
Take
one fag to
the world
leave the
other
[to me] so
i can
burn
Burn
Live
Be Human.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Chuck Taylor VS. James Taylor
Damp hair. Shoe laces and untangled strings. I come to work every morning caring less about how I appear to my audience - the edifice of dreams in a corporate cloud.
He is taken. His soul is taken away by another voice. Lyrics. Words. Libretto. Him in him. If I could do astral projection, I'd start with an analysis, not an overture.
What a clutter! Headphones, a Nescafe mug, sign pens and a concoction of thoughts with my Chucks on. Chucks bleached. Chucks faded.
You laugh. You grin. You smirk. You type. You listen to songs. You reminisce. You cry. You scream. You love. I watch you sleep in my imagination. I picture how your bed forms your body. How the night cuddles you is a vision to me. How you doze off the day's ennui - my relief. How you live with James' song - I envy.
I walk on the yellow lane as 18-wheelers halt to let me pass safely. I reach the gate where my death awaits me. I light up a stick out of my youth. I stare blankly at my shoes. Then you come in to me. Come to me.
I wait. And I do it patiently. I equal my waiting to my magnum opus: YOU. Finally. You. Me. Us.
He is taken. His soul is taken away by another voice. Lyrics. Words. Libretto. Him in him. If I could do astral projection, I'd start with an analysis, not an overture.
What a clutter! Headphones, a Nescafe mug, sign pens and a concoction of thoughts with my Chucks on. Chucks bleached. Chucks faded.
You laugh. You grin. You smirk. You type. You listen to songs. You reminisce. You cry. You scream. You love. I watch you sleep in my imagination. I picture how your bed forms your body. How the night cuddles you is a vision to me. How you doze off the day's ennui - my relief. How you live with James' song - I envy.
I walk on the yellow lane as 18-wheelers halt to let me pass safely. I reach the gate where my death awaits me. I light up a stick out of my youth. I stare blankly at my shoes. Then you come in to me. Come to me.
I wait. And I do it patiently. I equal my waiting to my magnum opus: YOU. Finally. You. Me. Us.
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Big Me
Most people cannot handle me. I don't wonder why. I don't even care. I am transparent and clear. If people assume I am like this or that, I let them be. What matters is who I am to me.
It is human nature to make mistakes. Even more human if you fail. Perfection comes not from perfecting the deed itself, but how you master improvement. How you stand up from the fall. How you redeem yourself. How you define yourself based from your boo-boos.
I used to think my name was Fault - I was mistakenly born by the rightness of making love. I grew up in a very strict Trial-and-Error community. My school's name was Independence. My own freedom was Me. I wanted someone, something to control me. I yearned for someone, something stronger. Beyond wanting to be controlled, I needed to be tamed. I was everything that I did. Careless, but hopeful. Hasty, but headstrong.
Regret is not in my vocabulary. It does not exist to me nor it bothers my conscience. Yesterday only made me well-built for tomorrow.
What I am is what I will be.
It is human nature to make mistakes. Even more human if you fail. Perfection comes not from perfecting the deed itself, but how you master improvement. How you stand up from the fall. How you redeem yourself. How you define yourself based from your boo-boos.
I used to think my name was Fault - I was mistakenly born by the rightness of making love. I grew up in a very strict Trial-and-Error community. My school's name was Independence. My own freedom was Me. I wanted someone, something to control me. I yearned for someone, something stronger. Beyond wanting to be controlled, I needed to be tamed. I was everything that I did. Careless, but hopeful. Hasty, but headstrong.
Regret is not in my vocabulary. It does not exist to me nor it bothers my conscience. Yesterday only made me well-built for tomorrow.
What I am is what I will be.
-Love-
I plan as
You liberally
Move on
The freeway
Dates
Are just numerals
That
Add weight
To your scale
And
They
Are a pledge
To me
We meet
At
An exclusive
Rendezvous
Just you
And
Me
Drive me
I
Lead
You
He was all that I am now. He was that world I could not live in. That air I was not allowed to breathe. That dream I couldn't transform into something real.
He was all that I am now... He was the empty space that fills my universe....
If you find irony in this love letter, then you know how deeply I am in love.
You liberally
Move on
The freeway
Dates
Are just numerals
That
Add weight
To your scale
And
They
Are a pledge
To me
We meet
At
An exclusive
Rendezvous
Just you
And
Me
Drive me
I
Lead
You
He was all that I am now. He was that world I could not live in. That air I was not allowed to breathe. That dream I couldn't transform into something real.
He was all that I am now... He was the empty space that fills my universe....
If you find irony in this love letter, then you know how deeply I am in love.
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