This happened today. I did cry for a meal.
The heat of the day punched me
with its strong fist of fire.
I'm punching back,
to get out of the sight of this star,
that looks at me like an obsessive boyfriend,
following me everywhere.
and I engage this enemy again.
The day robbed me some life
and the flames try to take my energy
I'm not strong,
I don't fly,
But I'm not easy on giving up
So I kick every step of my way home
and I suceed.
I won this time.
I cannot see my stalker anymore.
I got home.
The forces are leaving me
The body I'm using
it's eating itself alive.
I am starving,
I need some help.
Desperately in the kitchen I realize
there is nothing there,
there is no such prize.
I feel so hopeless...
I start to cry.
It’s been… what? a year maybe since I last posted something on here. That’s the same time I haven’t written. My notebooks are dying in the dust while I got distracted with life outside my world. I’ve been happy, sad and anxious and not for a second it had come to my mind to write about it. I’m ashamed but it is like I didn’t need it… until today.
I got lost of words. Notebooks were looking at me, waiting for me to touch them, to remember cause maybe I’d miss writing and would use them again. But I didn’t, I did touch them though, while I was searching for my academic books or organizing my personal objects; I’m sorry to write it, Notebooks: I didn’t miss you.
Maybe writing is like those churches where you only go when you’re in trouble. Maybe that was for me, writing a piece of something that I’m truly not sure what it is, maybe prose, or poem or… garbage. I let life to suck me dry, and I’m sorry.
Don’t get mad at me, Words: I’m back. During this year I changed jobs, I found an awful boss along the way and I was so stressed that I wanted to run. I had no energy left for anything else since everything was focused on surviving. Take me back, I’m here now and that’s what matters.
I may use new words, Words. Don’t get jealous, they’re gonna like you. Some of the ones I used may not appear as they used to. Don’t hate me; people change and with them their vision of the world. I might have changed a bit, or not. I’m not sure. You’ll tell me.
I can’t promise 100% commitment, that would be a lie and I don’t like to lie. Although, I can say that I’ll try, Words. I’ll do my best for you to see me around more often, so I can use you Notebooks, and we could be the gang we used to be during my teenage years, where we looked at the sky and danced with the birds.
By this time you should know that I always come back to you… You are home.
This poem was written in a moment where things were not easy but love was there, standing still.
Make your happiness or misery into words, make them poetry cause they’ll fly and they will dwell in those hearts who read them.
We are that thing,
That exception of nature,
The beautiful sound of the water
Through the rocks.
We are the awareness of the whole,
Of the life, of the love…
… But still, we are not together.
We are the pieces of the compass,
Solving the mystery of the lust,
Laughing with the touching of the senses
Feeling with the words of the poets.
We are the flight of the birds,
The sun in the horizon
The wind and the leaves,
But yet, we are not together.
Our history is like those ones,
That, unbelievably, we believe
That don’t exist in the mind
Of crazy writers
And sinner priests.
We are the nowhere
We are the space
We are the sand and the concrete
We are the time
We are one
But still, we are not together.
two different you
in the morning
and at night
I love the one
you are at night
that’s the you
who loves me