i played dress-up and dress-down for strangers
i acted as if the world revolved around something bigger
placed the bets, lost the keys
the mirrors are eloquently placed to attack the body at an angle
it suspires and conspires against my will,
the lack of faith has been replaced
by the absence of the bible in the drawer.
there are a mixture of hotel rooms this year in my head
they resonate with not being able to deal.
i like them.
it makes me feel in perpetual motion.
escaping from nothing at all
for only two hours.
the hallways are almost always empty
fluorescent lights guide my nightmares
there are panels i can't touch and there's people i don't want to see
there's no will to call for safety,
the mattress is rusty and unhinged,
how many bodies
have been in your head
this week?
don't talk to me or look at me or pretend to love me.
it's not like i'm here to stay.
the appeasement was signed with blood and sweat,
hands in throat
legs instead
two: a dream unravels
the alarms go off in darkness.
i sit and wait, squint and allow light in me.
then i notice the break in silence. once again the heaviness abounds.
hoping to find safer shores, the wind keeps moving.
it revitalizes my intentions.
though i hear how i have been betrayed.
the dream this time
told the story of how i was once allowed into a place
whilst hearing your voices.
i fled as soon as i could but
there was this room,
and the terrace,
and infinity;
it all stood right behind me.
'i need to leave without being seen,' i claim.
'i need to escape. they could eat me alive'.
as soon as i am out the door,
the vision stops right before my eyes:
her long flowery dress,
her long auburn hair,
(the impossibility of not being dreaming;
the sweat of the fear)
and the knowledge that her presence
was enough
to swallow me whole.
i sit and wait, squint and allow light in me.
then i notice the break in silence. once again the heaviness abounds.
hoping to find safer shores, the wind keeps moving.
it revitalizes my intentions.
though i hear how i have been betrayed.
the dream this time
told the story of how i was once allowed into a place
whilst hearing your voices.
i fled as soon as i could but
there was this room,
and the terrace,
and infinity;
it all stood right behind me.
'i need to leave without being seen,' i claim.
'i need to escape. they could eat me alive'.
as soon as i am out the door,
the vision stops right before my eyes:
her long flowery dress,
her long auburn hair,
(the impossibility of not being dreaming;
the sweat of the fear)
and the knowledge that her presence
was enough
to swallow me whole.
one: rorschach
destruction deems heed
accustomed to policies in vain
a shelter of capillaries that drip
a song unsung and a wound unclean
a soft heart bleeding
a chest bloating; midnight spasms
thoracic cavity wide open.
when she took the test
the images frowned upon me
and i could only look for bodies.
the countless times
i prayed for blood
for a swollen gut
insatiable images of weakness
unaccustomed this time
to the cry for help in silence
this time i hope
i can save myself
from the blindness.
pisces
i am a mirror.
a contained self-reflection that
from within the creation
has solved the problem.
i am the mirror upon which every body
i've ever come accross
has seen a representation.
some of those might have not liked
the true face of chaos,
the bitterness of an unloving childhood,
the heartbreaking reality of a never ending cycle of anxiety,
or maybe even their rusty old bodies.
feels like my body is an ocean.
at times i wish you'd visit my shores.
nobody is there anyway, ever, any time.
i am immense and vast as i seem,
not that it bothers me, it's kind of innate at this point.
it does seem to follow a pattern:
every day i wake, and see more than i want
which in any case will trouble me,
when the light blinds my eyes and sets me on fire;
from the bottom of my throat
water will rise
and will dispense
the calm from which i know
i come from.
a contained self-reflection that
from within the creation
has solved the problem.
i am the mirror upon which every body
i've ever come accross
has seen a representation.
some of those might have not liked
the true face of chaos,
the bitterness of an unloving childhood,
the heartbreaking reality of a never ending cycle of anxiety,
or maybe even their rusty old bodies.
feels like my body is an ocean.
at times i wish you'd visit my shores.
nobody is there anyway, ever, any time.
i am immense and vast as i seem,
not that it bothers me, it's kind of innate at this point.
it does seem to follow a pattern:
every day i wake, and see more than i want
which in any case will trouble me,
when the light blinds my eyes and sets me on fire;
from the bottom of my throat
water will rise
and will dispense
the calm from which i know
i come from.
an internal structure, one (excerpt)
As it always seems to favor in one way or another the man is always the winner. In my life I’ve only seen men get away with what they want. I remember one night I was on a taxi after a party and the driver wanted to give me back my change and put a hand on my knee. Of course I did not move, of course I didn’t even plan on making any noises or actually just anything. The same image of the taxi driver, this old, black dude who tried to pick up conversation about the weather but I was too busy drunk tweeting about how much I hated men, he rises to my head each time I lose. Anything. Even if I lose change or a plastic bag. Doesn’t matter. Because he wasn’t trying to harass me, he wasn’t trying to abuse me. Rob me. Anything. He was taking advantage of me. That minute there I understood that fear has kept us undertow our whole lives, living prisoners of whatever we chose to subdue ourselves too. Maybe it’s a question of power, I get it, but it gets kinda tedious to always have to be fighting against men. Against other people who teach you that the best way to treat a man is to make them think they had your idea. Never be too smart. I was never good at handling that. I was never good at hiding my disdain for defeat. My feet never stood still on the ground when another man tried to take over. And when I say men I’m talking about them. About them. Those who rise in the morning and look at themselves in the mirror and see nothing but a lack of bilateral symmetry. Those who ignore their mothers, become jealous of their sister’s boyfriend, and make up rumors about their classmates’ sex lives. Those guys who sound their car horns at you when you walk by just to say hi. I’m talking about them, the infamous strictly conservative dudes who believe that same-sex marriage is okay but still “kinda weird” to call yourself a woman if you have a penis, or take it as an insult if someone tells them they do anything “like a girl”. I guess you’ve seen them. We all have. I’m still thinking if the taxi driver had been one of them too.
Growing older doesn’t seem to foster wisdom. Actually what seems to flourish each time is boredom. We all reach a certain age with soaring levels of stress and phobias. We’re scared, not of the dark, but of silence. On an elevator, on a bus. When the other person doesn’t text. When your job application e-mail isn’t responded to yet. When your kid hasn’t texted he’s back home safe. We’re doomed by these small details, these tiny moments of unkindness that teach us to grow just a little bit stronger. We find ourselves decorating agendas to the fullest just in case they ever appear to be empty. Emptiness would only set the path to boredom, what we actually just seem to reject at all levels. With age you kind of learn to accept that boredom and make it yours. The realization that our bodies our only vessel on this journey and we must learn to live with it, no matter the cost or how hard it might seem, is glorious. Even when bodies grow stronger than our will and develop auto-inmune diseases. Even then, we need to learn to live our bodies and prepare ourselves for possible boredom.
untitled
you can’t tell me who i am
when i am not in peace;
when the ease of the travel has lost
its soothing properties.
there’s no defining of borders
lines and boundaries
when strictly
we are confounded in the nature of the abyss.
there’s no longer a prevailing disdain.
a misery lingers on through the body:
what runs through
and encages your fears till dawn?
could my empty hands hunt and kill
your witnesses and demeanors
to liberate your soul?
would then be easier for you
to judge the helping hand
not by the looks of its skin
but what it has gone through?
then god would be a definition
and the body would be a truth
installed deep inside the madness we see in each other’s eyes
when the day comes,
you’ll see my light
not outsmarting
neither outstanding
but always,
never ending.
when i am not in peace;
when the ease of the travel has lost
its soothing properties.
there’s no defining of borders
lines and boundaries
when strictly
we are confounded in the nature of the abyss.
there’s no longer a prevailing disdain.
a misery lingers on through the body:
what runs through
and encages your fears till dawn?
could my empty hands hunt and kill
your witnesses and demeanors
to liberate your soul?
would then be easier for you
to judge the helping hand
not by the looks of its skin
but what it has gone through?
then god would be a definition
and the body would be a truth
installed deep inside the madness we see in each other’s eyes
when the day comes,
you’ll see my light
not outsmarting
neither outstanding
but always,
never ending.
after
i have found that
after the sadness,
comes the sun
there's light flooding every single corner
of a room unlit
i feel the wind rushing into me and it's not coming to get me:
this time i can approach
my own desires
with the calm understanding of a deeper truth,
the one that no longer keeps me shackled,
and doesn't bare my bones.
after the storm i feel uniquely separated
from the aftermath i have caused.
the forces will steer us away
until the dusk approaches
and i can leave the sorrow
behind.
after the sadness,
comes the sun
there's light flooding every single corner
of a room unlit
i feel the wind rushing into me and it's not coming to get me:
this time i can approach
my own desires
with the calm understanding of a deeper truth,
the one that no longer keeps me shackled,
and doesn't bare my bones.
after the storm i feel uniquely separated
from the aftermath i have caused.
the forces will steer us away
until the dusk approaches
and i can leave the sorrow
behind.
stranger's disease, xii
i should have let you go
when the pain sank in i should have known
it was hard to even reconsider this chance;
was this a second chance or was there anything to forgive, forever, at all?
i don't understand this bruise
i think i bumped into something on my way out
i was stuck in a hurricane for seven minutes total but it seemed like a lifetime
and i don't know why my stomach has been thinking about you
it has been roaring and going round in circles
is it trying to tell me something?
i wake up from nightmares filled with back talk and car crashes and stupid reasons why i should leave
but she's so in love with the ecstasy of never standing still
but she's so in love with the world
and in love with you
and i am nothing but a stranger's disease
when the pain sank in i should have known
it was hard to even reconsider this chance;
was this a second chance or was there anything to forgive, forever, at all?
i don't understand this bruise
i think i bumped into something on my way out
i was stuck in a hurricane for seven minutes total but it seemed like a lifetime
and i don't know why my stomach has been thinking about you
it has been roaring and going round in circles
is it trying to tell me something?
i wake up from nightmares filled with back talk and car crashes and stupid reasons why i should leave
but she's so in love with the ecstasy of never standing still
but she's so in love with the world
and in love with you
and i am nothing but a stranger's disease
the true roses
i'm tired of pretending i don't love
of being unable, inexplicably incapable of letting it all shatter
as if being strong is something i knew fondly of;
i have not been brought to this earth by the mosses and the lichens to tear apart my skin
to lie in a dark room next to those i do love
and pretend this is all just a coincidence and i wasn't invited in,
it's not a lie i'm living,
it's more like an alternate reality
because i see the wrong people coming and i sit next to them
and the time flies by and cries whilst in my hands
i can't remember the times where love seemed a viable foundation
now it's all i can dream of
of a silent home
a transgression of this self-imposed solitude; a miracle
where someone or something reaches through
and sees the softness deep within
which has been growing
while missing
while loving
while forgetting.
of being unable, inexplicably incapable of letting it all shatter
as if being strong is something i knew fondly of;
i have not been brought to this earth by the mosses and the lichens to tear apart my skin
to lie in a dark room next to those i do love
and pretend this is all just a coincidence and i wasn't invited in,
it's not a lie i'm living,
it's more like an alternate reality
because i see the wrong people coming and i sit next to them
and the time flies by and cries whilst in my hands
i can't remember the times where love seemed a viable foundation
now it's all i can dream of
of a silent home
a transgression of this self-imposed solitude; a miracle
where someone or something reaches through
and sees the softness deep within
which has been growing
while missing
while loving
while forgetting.
the green mountain state and ownership and value
how strange has the time become
i can see it moving through the windows at dusk
when the light outside suddenly turns yellow i think
i think of the yellowish undertone of the hairs in your bed
of the futile smell in the park
of rinsing and how thunderstorms come to wash us clean
but they never come;
afraid of death maybe, afraid of what could happen
maybe if you sat next to me long enough you would see
that i didn't come here to protect you or enslave you
i didn't come here to make you feel alive.
it was more of a way of introducing myself to softness,
learning how to care even when there's nothing to lose.
in some aspects this has been my life's achievement
but in others, i mumble incessantly, hoping not to fall deep into regret
i will continue to write these words
even when the winds lose them
when they are scorched to dust by the sun
then a soft murmur from the mountains
will bring you back to me.
i can see it moving through the windows at dusk
when the light outside suddenly turns yellow i think
i think of the yellowish undertone of the hairs in your bed
of the futile smell in the park
of rinsing and how thunderstorms come to wash us clean
but they never come;
afraid of death maybe, afraid of what could happen
maybe if you sat next to me long enough you would see
that i didn't come here to protect you or enslave you
i didn't come here to make you feel alive.
it was more of a way of introducing myself to softness,
learning how to care even when there's nothing to lose.
in some aspects this has been my life's achievement
but in others, i mumble incessantly, hoping not to fall deep into regret
i will continue to write these words
even when the winds lose them
when they are scorched to dust by the sun
then a soft murmur from the mountains
will bring you back to me.
a scenario; first screened on national tv during a thunderstorm
i know i’ll miss you but
what is there to keep from the worry?
has the sea seen my claws come out at night?
in the end i know i heard a whisper
and in that moment i let myself cry:
it was a call for a action,
a momumental complaint against
the rules of attraction.
the sun can be felt i know,
i hear the screams at night from the scorched souls
but are they?
or is it just a cry of laughter?
from the muffled sounds of queens i can’t place a voice
my vision is frantic,
a non-stop machine
a sinking ship,
disappearing into oblivion,
flooded lungs and ideals
some of our dreams aren’t coming back.
i wish the blue could help me mourn,
but instead it has helped me announce and realise that this time this life is nothing but the in-between,
dangling in front of everybody’s eyes
a conflict of interest between the bodies
who are hot and cold against my touch.
instead this dream keeps filling itself up with words,
but from the mouth nothing more rich
than silence can be expelled,
possibly derived from a lack of desire,
or a lack of living,
which in some eyes is an equal.
yes i’ll miss you and you’ll see me run away again,
you’re escaping what i always wanted to have,
and you’re denying whatever you get.
from safer shores one day i will greet you,
hopefully with the trophies i had earlier promised you,
a quieter mind and a taste for the genocide
that implies the quality of living;
giving up has never been so easy
since i learned how fast things
turn
back
into water.
what is there to keep from the worry?
has the sea seen my claws come out at night?
in the end i know i heard a whisper
and in that moment i let myself cry:
it was a call for a action,
a momumental complaint against
the rules of attraction.
the sun can be felt i know,
i hear the screams at night from the scorched souls
but are they?
or is it just a cry of laughter?
from the muffled sounds of queens i can’t place a voice
my vision is frantic,
a non-stop machine
a sinking ship,
disappearing into oblivion,
flooded lungs and ideals
some of our dreams aren’t coming back.
i wish the blue could help me mourn,
but instead it has helped me announce and realise that this time this life is nothing but the in-between,
dangling in front of everybody’s eyes
a conflict of interest between the bodies
who are hot and cold against my touch.
instead this dream keeps filling itself up with words,
but from the mouth nothing more rich
than silence can be expelled,
possibly derived from a lack of desire,
or a lack of living,
which in some eyes is an equal.
yes i’ll miss you and you’ll see me run away again,
you’re escaping what i always wanted to have,
and you’re denying whatever you get.
from safer shores one day i will greet you,
hopefully with the trophies i had earlier promised you,
a quieter mind and a taste for the genocide
that implies the quality of living;
giving up has never been so easy
since i learned how fast things
turn
back
into water.
notepad scenarios
Kids drinking at the door of a church
Abandoned gas station where trucks stop
Warnes street
Traffic van with scintillanting picture of the virgin mary
The sea at night
Houses on guemes st
Empty supermarket at night
Abandoned houses by the sea in chapadmalal
a truth
listen to the sound that the bones make when they rattle the cage.
it's like we're trying to break free from nothing.
i feel like the air has condensed and collated my lungs.
i can't get it out, for certain; i can't burn the fire.
but one thing has been clearer now than ever: my shadow has been brightened.
someone, not to say a thing, really, has obliged me to.
i washed it clean with bleach.
hung it out to dry.
it worked, i guess.
now when people look at me they see the darkness underneath my feet.
now the truth has been given out
like pamphlets out the sunny streets
and we choose to let it fly in the wind
so as not to see the engulfing of someone else's rage
it's like we're trying to break free from nothing.
i feel like the air has condensed and collated my lungs.
i can't get it out, for certain; i can't burn the fire.
but one thing has been clearer now than ever: my shadow has been brightened.
someone, not to say a thing, really, has obliged me to.
i washed it clean with bleach.
hung it out to dry.
it worked, i guess.
now when people look at me they see the darkness underneath my feet.
now the truth has been given out
like pamphlets out the sunny streets
and we choose to let it fly in the wind
so as not to see the engulfing of someone else's rage
accidental ex lovers
i am losing my stripes
pinstripes and memories
i have worn the aces
and my eye liner as
so called home-decor
the situation has unbounded
itself from the meaning
now a scream can only be heard
reminiscent of what we called home
it has killed it self at night
at a loss for words
pinstripes and memories
i have worn the aces
and my eye liner as
so called home-decor
the situation has unbounded
itself from the meaning
now a scream can only be heard
reminiscent of what we called home
it has killed it self at night
at a loss for words
communication
when you divise the deity
do you frolic in passion?
is my will immaculate like my ancestors
have painted it so?
i have not heard the grass moving
this season
when will the fears be stronger than the will?
i suppose when the ship sinks
the air, instead of rising
it will choke us to death
ah boy i should know better
than to try surmount the wreckage
do you frolic in passion?
is my will immaculate like my ancestors
have painted it so?
i have not heard the grass moving
this season
when will the fears be stronger than the will?
i suppose when the ship sinks
the air, instead of rising
it will choke us to death
ah boy i should know better
than to try surmount the wreckage
haven’t i told you
the mirroring of existence
evokes my demons?
saviors are medicine;
is god defining the messiah
or am i?
the mirroring of existence
evokes my demons?
saviors are medicine;
is god defining the messiah
or am i?
past future mes
sometimes i think about what my 13 year old would think of me, you know? it's like, what did she expect to become at this age? i'm not sure. i don't think she ever fantazised about anything real, more than anything, she wanted stardom. and it's she i'm referring to, not i. no past selves are me, they're just connected. they die every once in a while. she wanted love, well, she's struggling still. i'm sorry. she never expected teaching. there's just too many things that weren't hip back in the day. two jobs? sleeping in random beds? pulling all-nighters every week? well it wears one out.
what am i expecting future me, though? that she graduates, mostly. that she's comfortable in her own body. i envision the bad weather won't stop her, nothing will. i think i'm destined to a few more years of solitude: i wanna come to terms with it so i stop pushing relationships out of nowhere. being alone is fine, i guess. i deal with it. but i hope the shadows can bear. and the lifestyle continues. i don't know. i don't wanna be angry and strange in this body forever.
what am i expecting future me, though? that she graduates, mostly. that she's comfortable in her own body. i envision the bad weather won't stop her, nothing will. i think i'm destined to a few more years of solitude: i wanna come to terms with it so i stop pushing relationships out of nowhere. being alone is fine, i guess. i deal with it. but i hope the shadows can bear. and the lifestyle continues. i don't know. i don't wanna be angry and strange in this body forever.
moon quiz (pisces, sixth house)
answer this post with your moon sign and house + your answer to these questions:
1. when upset, do you tend to confide in others or to isolate yourself?
i usually confide in others. if i don't, i usually get sick. i've been trying to control who i tell my secrets to, though. who i open up with and why.
2. when you have a problem, do you try to fix it yourself and avoid telling people, or do you tell them before trying to solve things alone?
i always try to fix it myself first but i am pretty good at knowing where my skills end and i'm not too proud to ask for help. it's impossible to know everything. if it's out of honesty, asking for help is always nourishing.
3. when things in your life are going fine/alright, are you anxious that it won’t last and keep wondering what will be the next bad thing to happen?
i know a bad thing will happen, but it doesn't keep me from being happy. i can't risk happiness, since it doesn't happen very often. i usually find myself submerged in other parts of my life that i don't really like.
4. do you have gut feelings? do you trust and listen to them?
i do. and of course, i swear by my own instincts. i'm ultra perceptive, and i know when things will happen. psychic, in some sort of way: i can see things coming. i have visions. i can meditate and visualize the future.
5. if you had to treat someone you really don’t like in the most friendly and polite way, could you do it, or would it be impossible to you?
it's nearly borderline impossible. my body can't even stand it.
6. from 1 to 10, how easy it is to make you laugh?
5. you gotta be real funny or have a special sense of humor i connect to.
7. if someone is talking very incorrectly about a subject you know a lot about, do you correct them or do you let them have their fun?
i let them have their fun but suffer in between. i learnt that people do not like to be corrected. i only do it when i don't like the other person, honestly
8. imagine you really have to tell a lie to someone you care about. are you more likely to freak out and blow the whole thing or to just tell the lie?
i am a great liar.
9. do you feel uncomfortable hearing other people tell self deprecative jokes? do you make self deprecative jokes?
i get kind of uncomfortable if it happens to often. i do it too, mostly to hide my own discomfort.
10. if you mispronounce a word in a group of people, do you tend to actually laugh at your own mistake or to be really embarrassed?
i am embarrassed. i tend to mask it up. sometimes i do laugh, if i feel comfortable enough.
awaiting
all of my efforts are now centered
to one pivoting force which resonates
as the words you say when you are over.
the world is propelling me to move on,
towards the future, towards the present.
it is reserving its divinities for who i want to become;
for when the blossoming seems proper.
i couldn't see it at first, i had covered my eyes with dirt
i had eaten it, had digested it poorly.
with the times buried deep underground i understood how well
i can reinforce my sense of belonging,
not into a community, not into a place,
but inside myself.
this is self-proclaimed victory.
i can only win for myself.
whoever that may be.
to one pivoting force which resonates
as the words you say when you are over.
the world is propelling me to move on,
towards the future, towards the present.
it is reserving its divinities for who i want to become;
for when the blossoming seems proper.
i couldn't see it at first, i had covered my eyes with dirt
i had eaten it, had digested it poorly.
with the times buried deep underground i understood how well
i can reinforce my sense of belonging,
not into a community, not into a place,
but inside myself.
this is self-proclaimed victory.
i can only win for myself.
whoever that may be.
monster
i know who you are
you are the beast
of whom they have spoken about
and this is our truth
the one we chose to live by
engraved in your white teeth
scattered, belongs to the dead man
can channel anything
and will tear anyone apart
that ever tries to pull him
away from what he wants
he has been seen
shone into daylight
has been missing
missing fear, fear of missing,
falling apart and wishing, for once,
he was truly dead –
can that happen to you?
will you ever die
or will my memory be a lifeline?
you are the beast
of whom they have spoken about
and this is our truth
the one we chose to live by
engraved in your white teeth
scattered, belongs to the dead man
can channel anything
and will tear anyone apart
that ever tries to pull him
away from what he wants
he has been seen
shone into daylight
has been missing
missing fear, fear of missing,
falling apart and wishing, for once,
he was truly dead –
can that happen to you?
will you ever die
or will my memory be a lifeline?
three character studies: the king
when i first met him i thought i was dreaming. lucid enough the building guided me, empty and walls white as sheets, while behind my rubber soles i left a dirt stain on immaculate white floors. he was one of the first persons i met upon my arrival: i was absolutely mortified, in a state of cold sweat and hot flashes. i was scared. but he never scared me.
there was the boss. i suppose you would consider him to be the king, but i don't. he said he needed to get somebody else. this new somebody sat directly by my side. and i knew he would rule.
he has never pressured me or ever made me feel the pressure of my own will, but i have struggled to keep his hopes intact. there's this implicit design and need for me to commit, something that has been weighing upon my morale for a while now. i didn't put much thought into his self until he started to remind me of somebody i knew. it wasn't bad, it was simply uncomfortable. i grew interested in his childish sense of humor, in his carelessness, in his calloused hands. the first physical feature that strongly struck me were the arms. he seemed to fragile in my eyes and then there were his arms, strong as steel. then came the squared jaw, then came the deep brown eyes; it was magnetic, i couldn't dare to say no. i then scanned slowly, over time, the remaining features. i came to the overwhelming conclusion that i always found him very attractive. there's a mixture of sweetness and vitality in his stoic personality. when we sit and chat and he adds too much sugar to his drinks i know he is watching through me. i try to relax but i can't. he doesn't let me. it seems like a fencing game. he's trying me, in order to get me to understand. he can see more in me than i thought. i always wondered why they would ever pick me, why they would want me there, occupying space, resources, time. why i was fit for the job. there's something he, and only he has seen. that's how he rules over me. he has timed my actions in his lazy way of scolding me for missing class. he has relentlessly built up a scaffolding for my making, but hasn't seen me in action. i have been working so hard to impress him. i have been working so had to understand why. my conclusion only adds to knowing that he sees himself in me. he supports this project even more than i might ever do because he knows how it feels. i think he could make anybody cry without raising his tone of voice. i think he has seen me cry. he has made it clear that he knows i isolate myself and hesitate. insistent, he claims that i need to listen to these ever re-ocurring casual coffee conversations. there's a watching eye, a predator, that has got its claim on us, ruling from the palace right at the end of the hallway.
two years
oh my god i was so in love with you what happened to us? i was over the moon, i could have done anything, anything for you. since day one. always. i loved you deeply. cared, tried. bled. what did you do to me? thank god i don't feel that way anymore and i can comfort myself in knowing i am not in there again
myself
i feel like myself.
no no i didn't feel like this before. i felt like something was missing,like poorly framed, about to fall off
dead skin, peeled off my arm, something like that. you get the picture.
today i laughed with frank ocean in the background and talked to myself in the car.
i had good conversations with the roads.
i have good times with myself.
i wanna go back to museums
to escaping people and
what they know of me.
what they think i am.
i am back to being me. the me i always wanted to be.
the one that sits deep within and with a fragile mind meditates
on such issues like art
or how deep the universe could be.
the one who appreciates the effort and the romanticism of solitude.
i just told somebody
this is gonna be a lonely time
but it's gonna be so good for me
carrasco drive (blood excerpt)
i was on a taxi back home
and me and my friend we were angry drunk
we spoke english
i barely remember the conversation
but i was so, so pissed
and frustrated
but i couldn’t cry in front of her
i was making fun of somebody’s girlfriend
and she was complaining about her job (surely)
and we both felt so alone
i dropped her off and the driver took me home
he parked at the door and said
“i heard you both talk,
are you americans?”
i said i wasn’t.
“i grew up in miami”, he said
and then he turned to english. he said
he had lived in new york
and had a strong al pacino-like accent.
he asked why i was angry.
i told him i was very lonely.
and very sad. i had mistakenly had my heart broken that night.
he said i looked like i was smart, and i was gonna figure it out.
i cried. he said it was okay. we are all lonely some times
and we move on.
he held my hand. he said i was gonna figure it out.
i got off the car and i felt a little bit better.
why did he throw himself into that?
sometimes i find that meaningful conversations take place
when i’m drunk
and with strangers.
and me and my friend we were angry drunk
we spoke english
i barely remember the conversation
but i was so, so pissed
and frustrated
but i couldn’t cry in front of her
i was making fun of somebody’s girlfriend
and she was complaining about her job (surely)
and we both felt so alone
i dropped her off and the driver took me home
he parked at the door and said
“i heard you both talk,
are you americans?”
i said i wasn’t.
“i grew up in miami”, he said
and then he turned to english. he said
he had lived in new york
and had a strong al pacino-like accent.
he asked why i was angry.
i told him i was very lonely.
and very sad. i had mistakenly had my heart broken that night.
he said i looked like i was smart, and i was gonna figure it out.
i cried. he said it was okay. we are all lonely some times
and we move on.
he held my hand. he said i was gonna figure it out.
i got off the car and i felt a little bit better.
why did he throw himself into that?
sometimes i find that meaningful conversations take place
when i’m drunk
and with strangers.
mists
every time i feel like i could be a creature of habit
someone or something kicks me in the gut
and leaves me breathless.
the night has fallen upon us but this time
it's my take to make it count.
and even if in a poorly-lit room
i found myself in strangers,
even if your voices are out of tune
i can hear myself breathing in the background.
people ask but all i can really say is-
this time i am moving with the patterns of the waves,
the tides that never follow me,
and whoever chooses to come along should be ready
because i won't be staying much longer in the sand
where my feet hold me down and i begin to drown
someone or something kicks me in the gut
and leaves me breathless.
the night has fallen upon us but this time
it's my take to make it count.
and even if in a poorly-lit room
i found myself in strangers,
even if your voices are out of tune
i can hear myself breathing in the background.
people ask but all i can really say is-
this time i am moving with the patterns of the waves,
the tides that never follow me,
and whoever chooses to come along should be ready
because i won't be staying much longer in the sand
where my feet hold me down and i begin to drown
flashlights
he said i'm the only one left
i wondered if he meant it and it he really wanted it but
there he was, i have no idea
how it all amounted to us hushing and shushing all over again
and i had a dream of you standing there
just like i had seen you before
i get paranoid but it happens often
i know it when i see you
blue t-shirt
dark jeans
and that look that creeps the fuck out of me
the dark, cold look, prevailing in a motionless figure that lives in your body
like a hologram, you are
nothing but a remaining bitter taste in the consciousness
of whomever i wanted to be before
i panicked in diagonal streets
then i panicked in the crowds
and now is the enemy sleeping in my bed or
is it just the demons you forgot to take home?
i wondered if he meant it and it he really wanted it but
there he was, i have no idea
how it all amounted to us hushing and shushing all over again
and i had a dream of you standing there
just like i had seen you before
i get paranoid but it happens often
i know it when i see you
blue t-shirt
dark jeans
and that look that creeps the fuck out of me
the dark, cold look, prevailing in a motionless figure that lives in your body
like a hologram, you are
nothing but a remaining bitter taste in the consciousness
of whomever i wanted to be before
i panicked in diagonal streets
then i panicked in the crowds
and now is the enemy sleeping in my bed or
is it just the demons you forgot to take home?
impatient
i'm sorry about the long long voicemail, it was unintentional
maybe last week i could have said i was drunk but who am i kidding? i wasn't
the dirt was stuck on my boots
and then the hail drilled over my head
half of this city's trees are now naked and wet
and what's this roaring sensation?
wind?
pain?
maybe i'm excited for the outcome?
well i told my mom about it, i said (and i wasn't lying)
i can't sit on the floor, is wet and cold
tried to run to the train station but it was muddy and i couldn't see far ahead
were where you to hold my hand?
oh wait, you never were.
cosmology
what? you think i'm scared? well, no, i guess i'm not scared i guess it's just moving-
that suddenly life works like the railways and goes back and forth
carrying everyone i had sworn to leave behind
except for the two times i though i had seen the doors close...
no, i don't think i'd call it fear,
fear doesn't keep you moving this long
without killing something out of you:
what has died and lost its cause?
they have been saying
i should ask for forgiveness
for advice (and take it)
well the universe... it's wise
believe me i know what i am saying
i have seen infinity beyond my eyes
that suddenly life works like the railways and goes back and forth
carrying everyone i had sworn to leave behind
except for the two times i though i had seen the doors close...
no, i don't think i'd call it fear,
fear doesn't keep you moving this long
without killing something out of you:
what has died and lost its cause?
they have been saying
i should ask for forgiveness
for advice (and take it)
well the universe... it's wise
believe me i know what i am saying
i have seen infinity beyond my eyes
records to listen to at three am without killing yourself in between
- fonso - zugzwang
- the black keys - brothers
- king krule - the ooz
- modest mouse - the lonesome crowded west
- thundercat - drunk
- pyramides - vacíos y variables
- luca bocci - ahora
- soda stereo - signos
- blood orange - coastal grooves
- frank ocean - nostalgia, ultra.
- speedy ortiz - foil deer
- the shins - wincing the night away
- mac demarco - rock and roll night club
- blur - blur
- the velvet underground - loaded
- alabama shakes - sound & color
- placebo - sleeping with ghosts
- jeff buckley - grace
- the smiths - hatful of hollow
- wilco - yankee hotel foxtrot
- unknown mortal orchestra - multi-love
- angelo badalamenti - soundtrack from twin peaks
- the cure - the head on the door
- modest mouse - too many fiestas for rueben/cowboy dan (EP)
- el mató a un policía motorizado - el nuevo magnetismo
- bleachers - gone now
blood
don’t you feel that sometimes words pour out like wounds?
maybe i am, who knows.
maybe i am bleeding.
but this year this time has been particular
for a lack of blood
and the thirst for it
i can’t seem to bleed enough—
this might be fine.
i can’t be happy all the time.
i guess some day i will be fine.
maybe i am, who knows.
maybe i am bleeding.
but this year this time has been particular
for a lack of blood
and the thirst for it
i can’t seem to bleed enough—
this might be fine.
i can’t be happy all the time.
i guess some day i will be fine.
i shouldn't be telling you this but
if whatever other's think counts as pathetic then you should have seen
how she would lean into the table and holding a knife to eye level say
he acted in terribly pathetic ways
(i shouldn't be telling you this)
truth is i am amazed of how with the passing of time
i feel less and less
and less... less...
hope i'm not stripped down and lost like you are
if i let the doom fall upon me
then what's left?
am i giving up so fast?
nah
i'm not you
nor her
not anybody else i know
how she would lean into the table and holding a knife to eye level say
he acted in terribly pathetic ways
(i shouldn't be telling you this)
truth is i am amazed of how with the passing of time
i feel less and less
and less... less...
hope i'm not stripped down and lost like you are
if i let the doom fall upon me
then what's left?
am i giving up so fast?
nah
i'm not you
nor her
not anybody else i know
pay attention to me
some of my tricks never worked,
i guess some part of my brain must have failed?
lost its sparkle? i can't guess.
she said a lot of things, you know
even from the corner of your eye i knew you knew
i wonder how often now your windows are mine
i wonder often whose in control
whose fingers will break next?
yours, mine?
can she pull someone apart?
is my head breaking open,
is the fridge open,
or is it just the alarm clock?
lately i can't tell noises and people apart
i guess some part of my brain must have failed?
lost its sparkle? i can't guess.
she said a lot of things, you know
even from the corner of your eye i knew you knew
i wonder how often now your windows are mine
i wonder often whose in control
whose fingers will break next?
yours, mine?
can she pull someone apart?
is my head breaking open,
is the fridge open,
or is it just the alarm clock?
lately i can't tell noises and people apart
i saw the same road five times before i recognized it
i stopped telling my psychologist about how much sex i had. for starters i had a problem with how she pronounced the work fuck. or maybe even worse: i had a problem with her even swearing. she was the same age as my mom. it was pretty uncomfortable to discuss who i had fucked in a bathroom stall two weekends ago.
i had quite a lot of sex during the year, regardless of her or most people knowing. i didn’t really think it was worth showing off the fact that i chose to sleep with someone who was even more toxic than chain-smoking. she never knew how i broke it off, many pieces of the story are missing. she is probably clueless as of why i cried so much over him throughout the year when we were seemingly over.
she always asked, though. “anyone hanging around?” no, i’d say. it was a lie. the few times i had told her about somebody new she’d raise her eyebrows with clear disdain. it didn’t matter who, how, or where: a girl, a boy; at the club, on tinder, at work; through friends, on instagram. she regretted my choices of company more than i ever did. so i chose to keep what was mine the same way: mine.
my choices were never the best, but the best hoped for in those circumstances. i did tell her about the incident that made me shut down till this day (or at least i think i did). but a series of events took me to the furthest road down south. numb. clueless. i ain’t waiting for anybody to show up and save me. i have to save myself first, i tell myself.
i’m active, pro-active. i don’t listen because most times i already know what’s being said. i don’t care about others just as much as others don’t care about me, so i’m not strictly sure if i’m being selfish. but what i can account for is the fact that i might be cold, too cold to my loved ones. shutting down meant shutting everybody off. i barely even tell my mother i miss her, and i haven’t seen her in a while. i can spend months without talking to my father. imagine how i can get with people who could potentially hurt me.
i’m pretty sure my psychologist can’t hurt me, though. or at least that’s not her primal, upmost significant need in this world. she might have to slap me a few times across to get the messages through but hey, lately everyone has to do that. i still choose not to trust her. sometimes i wonder if it’s pointless, if i’m wasting my money. my mom is great but she doesn’t know how to support me in things i like to do but she doesn’t, like crossfit, learning russian, studying phylosophy or seeing a shrink. if it’s pointless to her, then it should also be for everyone else. “what’s the fun in reading sartre?” she would say to me in the evening train when we came back from work. then she’d feel guilty and buy an entire collector’s edition of camus’ works.
the cross over between my mother and my psychologist has kept me sleepless and on the verge many times. same sun sign. sometimes they sound the same. they say the same things. or remember the same details. i choose not to tell my mom about how much sex i have for a various and obviously fair amount of reasons: first off, she’s my mother. second, i probably have fucked more than three people in her bed. and many others in mine. aside from that i always lie about where i sleep at night.
if she can’t handle existencialism on my side, imagine knowing about one night stands with married men in the backseat of their cars.
some things are better left unsaid, i guess. or that’s what everyone tells me, especially the people i make most mistakes with. not everyone has to know. i wonder if they like the lives they live, filled with self-proclaimed mystery. i wonder if that air hangs around them like a cheap body mist they bought at the airport because they forgot their perfume. i wonder if they find themselves mysterious, and worth obsessing over.
everyone keeps telling me this, but i can’t. i have to let it out. though lately letting it out means writing it down instead of saying it aloud. takes more time for my brain to process it, so most of it just stays in my hippocampus, stored only for my recent memory neurons.
it feels better.
feels like i’m in control.
i had quite a lot of sex during the year, regardless of her or most people knowing. i didn’t really think it was worth showing off the fact that i chose to sleep with someone who was even more toxic than chain-smoking. she never knew how i broke it off, many pieces of the story are missing. she is probably clueless as of why i cried so much over him throughout the year when we were seemingly over.
she always asked, though. “anyone hanging around?” no, i’d say. it was a lie. the few times i had told her about somebody new she’d raise her eyebrows with clear disdain. it didn’t matter who, how, or where: a girl, a boy; at the club, on tinder, at work; through friends, on instagram. she regretted my choices of company more than i ever did. so i chose to keep what was mine the same way: mine.
my choices were never the best, but the best hoped for in those circumstances. i did tell her about the incident that made me shut down till this day (or at least i think i did). but a series of events took me to the furthest road down south. numb. clueless. i ain’t waiting for anybody to show up and save me. i have to save myself first, i tell myself.
i’m active, pro-active. i don’t listen because most times i already know what’s being said. i don’t care about others just as much as others don’t care about me, so i’m not strictly sure if i’m being selfish. but what i can account for is the fact that i might be cold, too cold to my loved ones. shutting down meant shutting everybody off. i barely even tell my mother i miss her, and i haven’t seen her in a while. i can spend months without talking to my father. imagine how i can get with people who could potentially hurt me.
i’m pretty sure my psychologist can’t hurt me, though. or at least that’s not her primal, upmost significant need in this world. she might have to slap me a few times across to get the messages through but hey, lately everyone has to do that. i still choose not to trust her. sometimes i wonder if it’s pointless, if i’m wasting my money. my mom is great but she doesn’t know how to support me in things i like to do but she doesn’t, like crossfit, learning russian, studying phylosophy or seeing a shrink. if it’s pointless to her, then it should also be for everyone else. “what’s the fun in reading sartre?” she would say to me in the evening train when we came back from work. then she’d feel guilty and buy an entire collector’s edition of camus’ works.
the cross over between my mother and my psychologist has kept me sleepless and on the verge many times. same sun sign. sometimes they sound the same. they say the same things. or remember the same details. i choose not to tell my mom about how much sex i have for a various and obviously fair amount of reasons: first off, she’s my mother. second, i probably have fucked more than three people in her bed. and many others in mine. aside from that i always lie about where i sleep at night.
if she can’t handle existencialism on my side, imagine knowing about one night stands with married men in the backseat of their cars.
some things are better left unsaid, i guess. or that’s what everyone tells me, especially the people i make most mistakes with. not everyone has to know. i wonder if they like the lives they live, filled with self-proclaimed mystery. i wonder if that air hangs around them like a cheap body mist they bought at the airport because they forgot their perfume. i wonder if they find themselves mysterious, and worth obsessing over.
everyone keeps telling me this, but i can’t. i have to let it out. though lately letting it out means writing it down instead of saying it aloud. takes more time for my brain to process it, so most of it just stays in my hippocampus, stored only for my recent memory neurons.
it feels better.
feels like i’m in control.
new year's wishes
- how did you meet your best friend? What were your first impressions of each other? we met at school. i don't remember the first impressions, because we were too young. i do remember the first day of high school when she came up to me and said, "do you want to sit with me?"
- if you could give some advice to your younger self, what would you say? go to the gym, it's not your fault you're like this. people will like you, but you have to love yourself first. groom your eyebrows. wear make up. keep up your skin care routine. join a sports club. go out and be with people who are nothing like you. say thank you and count your blessings. love your sister.
- is there a hobby / skill that you’ve always wanted to try but never did? i always wanted to learn german and russian. i always wanted to play handball. there's also a part of me that always wished could learn how to sail properly and fearlessly, but it takes more dedication that i thought i had.
- if you had your dream wardrobe, what would it look like? wouldn't consist of too many items, all of them on the same shades of black-grey-white. probably very minimalistic. probably of very good quality, nothing cheap, but consciously and well bought.
- a food that you disliked as a child but now enjoy? does beer count?
- share an unpopular opinion that you may have. i used to enjoy mac demarco's work but now i really can't even stand him. his fans have ruined the whole thing. it's their fault of course, not mac's.
- how well do you think you’d do in a zombie apocalypse scenario? pretty well. i have pretty good surviving skills, good reflexes, and i am very thirsty for adventure. plus i'm not scared of death.
- if you could look like any celebrity, who would you choose? pretty cliché i guess, but i'd love to look like emily ratajkowski.
- have you ever encountered a house that you believed to be haunted? i still believe and kind of know that my dad's house is haunted.
- share one thing that you’d like to happen this autumn. lose enough weight. and good weather. and have a good birthday.
- which school subject do you wish you had an aptitude for? physics.
- describe your dream house. small loft apartment, filled with plants, on the last floor of a building in a big city. big windowpanes. nice creamy wallpaper. kitschy kitchens.
- if you had to live in a time period different than the present, which would you choose and where? i would choose the nineties because i liked their fashion, but honestly i like my generation. it's woke.
- (if you’ve graduated) do you miss high school? no.
- what’s one physical feature that you get complimented on? my face. and my butt apparently too. mostly my face and hair.
- share the weirdest encounter you’ve had with a stranger on the street. i talked to a guy on the subway because i thought he was cute and it was his first time on a subway. it was crowded, the power went out, and we were stranded for half and hour at a station before the next train came. he was very nice and cute. i never got his number. it may not be the weirdest but it was one of the most memorable.
- how do you take your tea (or coffee)? i drink my tea alone, no sugar, no milk. i drink my coffee with either skim milk, cinnamon powder (and a dash of chocolate powder if i'm feeling adventurous) or iced with skim milk.
- do you think that humans are inherently good or bad? no. depends on many things. there are no extremes of personality, only spectrums. we all have good and bad. i think sirius black said that once.
- are you a neat or messy person? Is your room / house orderly? i'm a neat person. sometimes my room is messy but it is just a reflection of how my mind is feeling. but order rules my life.
- have you ever gone on a bad date? god, yes. on a few.
- if you could have any type of hair, what colour and cut would you have? i'd like to have my hair a bit shorter than now and maybe black. but i really like my hair. i wouldn't change it, honestly.
- is there someone that you miss having in your life? i miss my sister and i miss a person i never had in my life in the first place.