This is not a collection of great work.
The Summer Boys
Two figures hover over me.
And sigh.
Only Fear
All the rats of days
If blindly, there’s fear
My Imaginary Lighter
I found the lighter when I was thirteen years old
Teatro
Later on, in the house of my daydream, we can perform this play. When the grass grows warm as well as the conversations we see play in the mouths of children. What do they all speak of? Is it pretend like the old days or have we been living in the real world? No, I don’t think so, no.
Summer Radio Love
We were driving with our blindfolds, driving 75 because we questioned whether faith would ever keep us alive. And later again in the parking lot; we watched the couples walk and we strolled with child-like thoughts. We made up stories of the girls in their top down cars playing summer music loud with their boys acting large. And I laughed with you, I laughed a lot until the sun went down but night was still summer hot. And we carried out that week playing in the parking lot. Singing favorite classic songs, sipping lemonade and cherry pop. Took a look around to see the world had changed a lot. The radio was nice; I’ve got that summer heart.
My Imaginary
This is my journal and my notes of guilt. These are my confessions, as vague as I want them. My attempts to translate my dreams into language. My wants of a good story told. My cries for attention and tales from my childhood. All of the love in my skin, the joy in my words. My word vomit. Me, burning my brains with an imaginary lighter. The fear in my tounge and paranoia in the walls. The hesitation in my fingertips. My mouthless living. My playing with combinations of sound. My restricted vocabulary. My thoughts, transparently naked. My skills of syntax. My frustration with the world and with myself. My love of games. My attempts to solve the problems of the universe. My dreams of the future.
Rose Vision tbc
He comes around the window to say that I should be happier. New York was a dream but everything looks better with rose goggles.
Treehousing
We fell in love in the apartment where poets fall in and out with the weather. Where the floorboards know wholly the soles of our feet. And the walls love the trace of my fingertips. We found life where the manuscripts were birthed in the underground presses of the building’s basement where we’d sleep. Where the mattress had no proper sheets. Where the radio screamed at the streets and the cats came and went as they pleased. And the summers kept up with the thirst of childhood.
We fell apart at the end of the summer and then you found me again in the spring when my hair was long and you relearned to smile.
In the Distance
Sometimes, when the world collapses, no one notices. But occasionally under a shroud of curiosity and illumination, we see. Suddenly, all of the features and all of the discrepancies are shown and form a field around us, a sort of wave of understanding. It is then that we know and can break the strings on our naked shoulders and walk freely.