Tuesday, February 12, 2008

Feeding Energy

He healed me.
He healed me with those demanding hands of his.
He gave my skin the essence needed to survive,
He sensed the need, the flavor, the vapor.
He then controlled the missing parts that kept me far, high…
And then he lifted me up again, somewhere there where the only things I could hear
Were my voice and his linked together, singing and crying and moaning.
And my voice and his, and the light of his hands getting into me,
Satisfying me, filling me up to the peak.
And up there, somewhere unknown to my eyes,
He became the man in me, and I became the woman in him,
And we became our own healers,
Our own seduction,
Our own core.
And then, I understood.
I understood the movement of his lips that came from that place where I could feel it
I saw the pain that was already gone,
Gone with his own hands,
Healed by his own spirit,
Because at that moment,
His spirit was me.

Remembering a First Love...

I’ll lend you a piece of myself so that you can think of it,
I’ll tell my heart not to contract when you hurt it.
I’ll close my eyes and dream of you loving me,
I’ll stay alive only to be part of your life.
I’ll die in your presence so that I can reincarnate in your skin,
I’ll cut my hair, free it, oppress it, and hate it.
I could sing a happy song and paint the sky with bright colors,
I could look in your eyes and again think that I am in heaven.

Thursday, February 7, 2008

Pleasant Misery

While you anxiously glance at the time in your watch,
I’ll make sure I make you happy.
But then the look in your face,
The red, tiny, minute veins that extrangulate your eyes,
Maybe the whiteness in you artificial skin,
Or the misplaced hair in your beard.
Maybe, you don’t want happiness.
Now you take your corrupted eyes off your watch,
You glance at me,
I feel the desire, I feel the necessity,
And now you act as artificially and predictably as a robot,
You’ve fallen into the conventions of contentment.
My eyes turn against your presence,
They’re afraid of your actions, afraid of your repugnance.
But you still desire, ignoring the tear from my eye,
Ignoring the cry, turning it to a confused moan,
Criticizing my corpse, harming my lips, corrupting my aroma,
Consuming my soul.
Now the watch grabs your eyes once more,
But you’re not anxious anymore.
You glance at me,
You feel my pain, but not really.
You only pretend to feel my pain,
And while you get ready to destroy my life,
I want to make sure that I make you happy.

Her Dream


"When I grow up my dream is to become an actress and a pediatrician and become wealthy. I want to encourage others that they too can be successful in life. I also want the other people that if they believe that they can do something, the dream will be accomplished if they try really hard. My dream can come true if I stay in school and get an education. When I grow up I will be wise and educated."
-Lala