From April, 2013

Love Letter

I’m mostly mad at love right now cause it hurt my friend. Love made my friend hurt my friend. And it hurt me too, but that was a different story. Love hurt me for the best. Love made me choose. It made me choose between loving someone else and loving myself. I chose myself. I made the right choice. Thanks love. So I guess love saved me. I guess I shouldn’t be so mad at love. I guess I should be thankful. I am grateful love, but I am not indebted to you. I don’t owe you. I don’t owe…

Pleasure Is Measured In Presence

The bed and it’s room is no place for the computer to cast it’s shadow over your eyes My thighs and universe in between no place for carelessness, half truth, and lies Pleasure is measured in presence A place of vulnerable posture held by caress moved further to openness I let you in deeper through fear The stars of my inner night guide you The story of these constellations Passing expressions remain in memory long after the taste of your sweat has left my lips Alone now No light in the bed or it’s room Inside myself Closed eyes Thighs…

Borders borders

When I went through the border I heard a man speak his name, speak for his freedom and the freedom of those around him and I saw a soldier standing behind him who was there to kill, disappeared, repress, impoverish, murder, steal, lie, thieve, die sometimes too, everyday inside he died, that soldier, I saw it in his eyes soldier funded to stand there, given money, by a government that I “have” somehow to call “my own”.  … I Pledge Allegiance… But I can’t I can’t I cant I cant I cant I cant I cant I cant   When…

Hace mucho tiempo te quise

Hace mucho tiempo te quise. Fuiste la mujer de mi vida. El amor más grande de todos mis pinches 27 años. Tú me decías que era muy joven Y yo quería crecer y ser la mujer perfecta para ti. Quería que me gustaran las cosas que te gustaban. Quería alcanzarte y gustarte. Yo sé que te gustaba. Me decías que me querías. Sé que lo sentías… Que lo vivías. Te gustaba besarme. Me gustaba mirarte. A veces nos gustaban las mismas cosas. Pero nunca fue suficiente. Tú querías otra cosa. Otra vida. Tal vez otro cuerpo y no el mío.…