sylvia

I still remember that recording

the dark undertones of deep

decrepit death and disillusion.

Every now and then 

it encompasses emotions 

endured enraged inescapable.

I remembered you once more
and I see we are akin
You and I share that voice.

As it was so, I traced your words on my tip
As if I've always known Braille
Eyes shut as I spoke upon your lips.

I am in love now
But you won't ever know that.
Your past is mine.
Your tone was my own.
------------------------------

Hace Frio

The woman said something about me wearing shorts on this cold ass night. Something "hace frio, que loco." I could of easily said "I just came from the gym and I forgot my cell phone so what mami?" Too many damn language barriers in one street. No wonder there's mad hostility. But only good thing about is that it keeps it mysterious in a way and keeps everyone to their own business. Queens ain't like a suburb in bumblefuck Upstate New York where people say "Hi" to their neighbors on a daily basis. I know it ain't just me, you get that feeling when you see a neighbor and at first you're like "Hey man, how's it going?" It usually ends there or continues a bit with what business you are about to get into or where you just came from. That's really it. If it exceeds that not only does it a) waste my time and b)it's information I could easily not give a fuck about.

The only real thing that kept my mouth shut earlier is that my car is parked wherever they were stooping at; I really don't want my shit scratched or tampered with. And I could care less of socializing with them. Move it along, nothing to see here.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

'06-'13 from the Mead Comp

I had a dream once
Deja vu really; so count it twice
It never gave an opportunity to come-for-wishing
As always my timing ain't always right.

I never had the push from anyone
Never heard the "you can do it speech."
The things that haunt me
right before I sleep.

The hums and static whisper of the quiet drum
"Why?"
Of course there's no answer
Here, maybe, I thought now
I have time.

Now I peruse old letters and printed conversations
Fucked up excuses, trauma, vindicated explanations.
For what?
Just to clarify whatever bullshit that's still inside.

Within that last bit of moment before I wake
the dream fades over to the other side.
We're in the clear, that moment's arrived.

Take it man, just take it.
Try to remember what that one little man said,
"Fake it 'til you make it."
Thanks Kim.

visage

Right through the lenses

an alluring life exists.     

Dreaming or seeing.      

Bound

The last few prints 

were all too similar

I probably won't be able to write it the same

but in all of it

career just got in the way

In the center lies 

the proverbial nymph

On one she was a model

on another she was an heir

On one they met at a basement of a Methodist church

she chain smoked and he liked it

I can't recall the last time it happened

I think it was when I wrote scarlet

for days it made me feel that fire in my gut

It's not a nymph

More like a muse

Her presence presides over me as she walks to and fro

something I've felt before

In earshot she laughs 

Man oh man she laughs

Bread and jam is not nearly enough

I clearly have no shot

even then I wouldn't make the throw

It's something I've felt before

What I can say is that

this feeling is gone.

Until it comes back

I'll leave it alone.

Seasons had changed and so have I
I lost some seed and I'm down on my luck

It's bound to change again