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The Fight 

I stare at my palms and at my broken skin. When did this happen? I didn’t see most of it. I didn’t feel any of it. I was so desensitized; I was breathing in rust and breathing out gold. I broke myself while fixing this. The process pauses as I suddenly watch the Reds Browns and greens scale off my knees and my elbows. I find that my hair has turned to rope, my eyes are made of glass. The world is loud, it is immense and psychotic. I am still and I am loveless. My limbs have rusted and nails are black. Somehow I stopped, my soul is awake and it is thunder; it is lightning and it is fearless beyond my fragile body. Shrieks turn to screams, and screams become prayers for redemption. The psychotic world grows even more hysterical but I am awake, and I am becoming. 

I spit out words and bones, I press my palms over my face and I smash the glass. I give my soul eyes, and suddenly I recognize myself. 

One more battle done with this world at war; I am not broken, I am not heavy. I am made of gold and rust; I have a stream of rain running through me. My soul is thunder and I am not not blind. I see you. Beyond anything, and after it all ends; I still see you. 

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Hero:Villain 

I frown upon my third attempt to write something without sounding ridiculous and completely off tune with the world. I reread my initial thoughts and think to myself:”God im full of myself.” I erase those lines in hopes of sounding more humble, a little less intense, and somehow more agreeable. 

It is unbelievably difficult to find my voice without any music playing while I write, it’s as though the silence muffles my thoughts; they cower and hide because they are not humble, they are eccentric and they are disappointing. So I push myself and I pick at my obscure attempt to reveal my true self to this page. I need to unravel somewhere, and this crest white glistening screen is enticing to say the least. 

I may be picking up the pace and finding my flow but I am letters away from shutting down completely. Too many layers keeping my fears dormant and not enough layers to keep my skin warm. This is how it goes, sometimes we gotta choose, lying to ourselves and staying comfortable in the chill, or revealing our insides to the eye and basking in the warmth of its fire.

I may be different, but I could just as well be similar. I do feel like an outlier almost every day, but maybe everybody does too. I do have explosions of emotion occurring just beneath the surface, but I just as well, may not be the only one getting burned. I may be the only me, and the rest are a bunch of you. But I could just as well be another you to somone just as odd as me. Go figure! 

I make believe and I pretend to live in a world just for me. I pick it’s heroes and I love it’s villains. Perhaps the time has come for me to realize,that I am part hero and part villain with little control over both. 

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No More

What do i say to you when your eyes are flooded with tears? How can you ever be this beautiful and this horrific looking back at me? What eases your mind if i cant understand your words? Give me anything other than this face.
I thought i caught you when you fell and now i see you broken. I thought i stopped the pain last time yet you still moan. When will i ever be enough to keep you afloat?
You said you knew me and you would let me in. Now i look around and you are nowhere but behind closed doors. You peek at me from in between your fears and you pretend that you’ve seen all of me. You lie and you cry and punch me out any time i reach for you. You always win and you scare me.
You make me quiver when you smile because i know there is nothing there.
I want you to laugh and to breathe as though i live inside you. I want you to crash right into my core and believe the agony of falling through me. I want you to scream when you feel rage and crash into me again. I lay by your side and i wait for you. Yet you never look close enough.
You torture me and you weep. You search and search until you ultimately repeat yourself and the pursuit is never ending and unyielding. You spin into your mess and you break within yourself as though you exist by yourself. Audiences applaude your findings when your eloquence fools them. Yet i know you hide behind every word and you will never allow yourself to be found. Your absence makes you and your truth breaks you.
This is the first time you look me straight in the eyes, yet your mind is absent. You are a fugitive in your own world and i am tired of trying to guide you.
I am home, i am love and i will no longer serve you.

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Unmasked at Night

“Ah! realize your youth while you have it. Don’t squander the gold of your days, listening to the tedious, trying to improve the hopeless failure, or giving away your life to the ignorant, the common, and the vulgar. These are the sickly aims, the false ideals, of our age. Live! Live the wonderful life that is in you! Let nothing be lost upon you. Be always searching for new sensations. Be afraid of nothing. . . . A new Hedonism — that is what our century wants. You might be its visible symbol.” (2.16)” The Picture of Dorian Gray- Oscar Wilde

I stare at the world from a distance and i wonder about what it is to exist, to live and to be me. Beauty all around; it is almost inexcusable, undeniable and inspirational. I knew beauty was common, but it never gets old, it never gets boring. That is the wonder of beauty, even the word has a rhyme so flawless that it has you picturing the brightest truth to ever exist. The thought of beauty compels my mind and my emotions into a peek of pursuit that i have not calculated or organized. An aimless pursuit that has me eager yet still and balanced. Except i find myself shying away from my own reflection in other people’s eyes, maybe i just  love letting them find their own in mine. I love showing them the way inside their own truths, their own beauty and their own forsaken peace. I do not worry about myself, i always seem to land anyway. I express myself to myself, i don’t need portals or tools. I have not found myself anywhere else but deep inside my troubles and my joys, so i am teaching myself to no longer look out.

I find myself writing on my own, no feedback and no criticism, no applause and no rejection. Positively alone and without a trace, my words flow out of my mind and onto this screen. I open my heart to definitions and i try to watch beauty unfold. At times disappointment hurts me when its all i can spill out, and at others, like now, i find myself in a state of release, my mind afloat and not drowning screaming for life.

The hardest part is always beginning that new line, finding the words to introduce your thoughts in the most adequate way. Just as well, the hardest part is taking new steps in foreign grounds, ones you haven’t trodden before, ones that have you confused and uncertain, ones that hold mystery and chances of defeat or triumph. Guardedly, you look for the right and firm steps, only to save yourself the inadequacy of falling right in the beginning. You try to make a way that will introduce you to the best possibilities, a way that you can find every time you get lost. And so you pound your feet and you insert your full potential into every strike you take, hoping you are making the right decision and taking the accurate turns. Then when it rains you will find your way back, you will have your print and your truth engraved on every corner.

I smile when i come to the end of this because beauty is outside my window, in bright city lights and in every raindrop softly enhancing and reflecting my shy thoughts. Beauty lay in the mystic waters and in the freezing winds, it colors itself whichever shade we want it to. Beauty is generous and it is available, it is pure and it needs no reason. Beauty calms my mind into a soothing song of quiet and melodic homesickness, topped with gratitude for where i am now.

Every soul is a wonder in its own troubles, its own aches, its genuine desires and its wounded longings. We become what we allow ourselves to feel, and we grow as much as we allow our minds to wander off. Every soul is an imagination and a truth. Every soul is a beauty unmasked at night.

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Encountering a Dream

I sat down where he ordered me to and I looked at the floor. My hands were twitching so I clasped them closer and locked my thumbs together. My stomach was churning and I couldn’t catch my breath. I had no idea what was going on outside my body, beyond myself. My inhibitions chained my insight and they drowned my mind. I looked at my feet and I noticed the absurdity of my entire position, except I couldn’t get up, I couldn’t stand. My mind flew and then crashed, my heart pounded and I could feel my chest getting heavy. My hair gently surrounded my face and it kept my eyes from wandering. I kept my head still and tried to listen to him speak.

I waited, almost impatiently to hear his voice, but he kept to himself. The silence began pushing my mind to places I was terrified of; the silence was powerful; until he spoke. I closed my eyes and heard him. It was so strong, his voice, his tone, his peace, it was immense. My heart twisted in its place, as if struggling to get out of its routine, my breath was organized, and my limitations closed in. He suddenly raised his voice: “Get out!” … It hit me almost shuffled my hair with its ringing resonance. So I looked up from the floor, and I couldn’t but stare. The beauty that was so striking stared back. His sharpness, his edges and his flaws all attacked my sight; he was so overwhelming I almost smiled.

He held my gaze and whispered “please”. I only found myself retracting into my chair almost wanting to fade. His face, his posture, and his hands everything shook me to the core. He crushed my every cell with hopeless infatuation, he simmered my thoughts on such peaceful flames; it was almost pleasurable. He examined my face and my evading eyes, he looked at me with presumptuous skill, and he was winning me over without even knowing it.

“Look at yourself, enjoy the sight of such gorgeous reflection, love this body and caress this mind. You have no idea, no clue, not even a trace of evidence of what you’re missing. Let me guide you, let me unfold you and crash your walls; I want to, I’m desperate to. I want to show you what reality is, I want to feed you the truth and shower you with moments, I want to sneak into your dreams and find you there too. I need to find you somewhere, because you hide so well, you love so hard but you destroy even better. You lurk behind those nonthreatening eyes and you wait. Give me what you fear most and I shall love you beyond it, crumble into me and I will make you whole. Lay out your plans and let it be, lay out your heart and let it be, lay out your body and let it be. Release yourself and I will not leave your side. Choke me with your doubts and I will not fall, pound your fists unto my soul yet I will always be. Do not deny me yourself, do not cry for tomorrow. I want to, I want to, I shamelessly need to have you.”

He had no idea, did he? I have seen him in my dreams, he practically lived there. Every night he waited for my head to fall unto pillows and my eyes to close. He entered my dreams without permission, he found me there so bare and unprotected. He touched my heart and I surrendered my being to his love. I laughed in my dreams, no inhibitions. Over every wall he stood tall and got to me. He had no idea that I fell to my knees every night needing him, praying for him and searching for him. I felt with him, and I lived, I grew with him and I thrived. He does not know.

As I thought, I felt his breath closer, I smelled his aroma and it filled me. A train crash, an airplane crash, destruction, life, death, birth and hurricanes. Music, Symphonies, Lights and waves all crashed. My mind burned and my heart rebelled. My hands shivered and my eyes watered, every part of my conscious being transformed into divinity. He woke up my ego, my id and my libido; he started the fight and killed them all, then revived them. He jump-started the life in me, and did not know. I felt his hand sweep away my hair and my eyes wandered to find him leaning closer. It only existed in my dreams, this encounter, it was not real, he was not there, I could not believe, I had no faith. And then to the sweet surrender that has become my reaction he whispers “Believe me, this is real”. He grins and my face flushes with every degree and shade of red to have ever been. Peace and war, they made sense at that moment, because I was the victim and the heroin of both; I won, I rejoiced and I felt every bolt of life streaming through my blood. Under all the levels of awareness in me he found mysteries and he stayed, he lingered there so close to me but with no impact. He watched me suffer and revel in his storm; he found rain in my eyes and sweetness on my lips. He softened my edges and calmed my tricks.

It was me and him; and I could hardly move. I was so spell bounded and heartily amazed. I decided to never leave. The wonder of meeting home in the eyes of a stranger, the clarity of finding truth in the vast skies and believing you found the man of your dreams in an unlikely encounter. I collapsed into him and I gave him my words, I surrendered my discoveries and I hid perfection between his mystery and mine.

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Rebirth

 I’m shedding off my masks, I’m standing bare foot on charcoal grounds, and my hair smells of moist breezes and forgotten lands. I gaze the horizons for my home, my long lost haven, but the wonderland I’m in is of my own making. My skin is damp and my palms are sweaty, there is nothing left in this world for me.

I try to physically look back at the roads I’ve trodden, and I have made so many wrong turns my neck began to ache. My own footsteps wore me down. So I stand my ground and the burning sensation in the soles of my feet is proof of my long journey, and a sign that I should lay in the shade for a while.

Above me is sky and below me is over heated earth, I am life here and I am the movement, I am the variable and I am the catalyst. Whatever I do today will change this world I’m in.

Being the old person I am today, has never defined me, for my youth has been well taken care of. I gave my youth away to a child well deserving, a hopeful prospect for humanity. Yet, I am old today, and this land is as forgotten as I am, and my hair is as grey as the ashes my road has become. The books I have written, and the thoughts I have shared are the life I lived. I lived inside my books and through my words. The more complicated my journey got, the more exhilarating and expressive my phrases became. I existed in my characters, and in their choices. I loved what they loved and despised what they did. I have lived so many lives I can hardly keep count.

So today, I am shedding my masks and I am exposing the marks on my face, my eyes have a thousand stories to tell and my soul is an ancient one. This home I am searching for is taking form the faster I walk. I do want the shade and I definitely want to rest, but the home I’m looking for cannot wait. So I gain more pace and I look ahead, for nothing has ever slowed me down, and today neither age nor the world will as well.

As I push the gate open, I am out of breath, my knees feel weak and my head is light, yet my heart functions and beats like it has never before. But I can’t help but begin falling to the ground; out of the blue his hands reach for mine and he tells me I have done a good job. He pulls me up and leads me in. As I step inside, my hair regains its color, my hands become smooth again, and youth slams itself upon me. He whispers my story ends here, and now I can live on forever through my books. I nod with consent and close my eyes. A few seconds later I open a thousand pair of eyes all at once and through them, I never died.

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Normalcy moves in

You just know. When you look him in the eyes and they reflect your face. Normalcy.
A while back you fell into his eyes you saw all through him and beyond, every good feeling was captured in that moment and you smiled for the sake of the peace you felt.
Normalcy takes thAt away, it cools it off and justifies the fire as a phase. Normalcy breaks apart the peace you had into the illusion of it. Well, just because the peace you felt was due to being in utmost infatuation, attraction and self approval. Your truth was drowned by the emotion, by the idea of perfection. And nothing slaps you in the face and leaves a good mark as much as normalcy.
We dare not admit things like that to ourselves because no one wants to feel and see reality. Normalcy is a reality, it is plain and direct. No sugar coating or euphemism. Your passion becomes treatment, relativity and an excuse. You blame your passion for blinding you from the reality, when it was the ultimate surrender and joy.
When you find that intensity has packed up and is at the door, you grab it by its feet, you drag yourself after it, because normalcy is moving in instead.
Normalcy will set you straight it will have you clean up, and organize yourself, it will slap you for every hole you missed and you will blame intensity and passion.
Many people thrive on normalcy they need it to direct them and set them straight. Others rather few are terrorized by it they thrive on the intensity and the essences of it, they find ways to keep it and entertain its friends.
See, you just know. when you look back at her and see more than just a reflection of your face, you have something to fight for. And you declare war on normalcy.