stories to tell

Your silhouette flies, soars, and the wind warms up around you. It’s a mere shadow of you, strutting and flexing your body upon Plato’s cave. As you move and dance a nearby flame flickers green with envy. You snap your fingers and suddenly out of shadow you appear. Fully in the colorful flesh. Your hair, brown and golden, rests at your shoulders ready to grow and in long curls entrap your prey. While your emerald green eyes flash around your cave shining bright upon your diamond goblet filled with orange wine. A small rabbit hops next to you with a tray of cookies, freshly baked by the smell of it, you kneel gently and take one. In a swift motion you twirl and get up. The wind from your black and orange vestments sends the rabbit flying. You make way to your seeing orb sensing something was awry. As you walk the ground sprouts little flowers. You hold your hand over your orb and see…a man, in a laboratory coat, pouring over a Petri dish with glowing little specks. “You fool” you whispe...

 in a darkened basement a simple plant; a pretty pretty leaf perched on a chair. sight unseen nor sounds heard yet i simply can't help but dream of your face beautiful and fair.

  I bought this card. Wrote a heartfelt apology. Then I didn’t deliver it. Not because I didn’t want to apologize anymore but because I believe I didn’t need to anymore. I think the awkwardness of the apology would be a worse offense to them than not apologizing. So I left it at that. Still, the card was pretty and I liked it so here it is.  I am definitely an overdramatic person. 

 She stood with her back to the ocean, her toes slowly sinking in the sand. Her sun dyed hair danced all around her, seemingly transitioning from wavy to curly. Sometimes little wisps would stick to her cheeks and she would remove them with care as she was already feeling the pain of a little sunburn. Her mind wandered to her youth, when she waited for her dad to pick her up from summer camp. The day had been hot, too hot. It was hard to distinguish between sweat and the salty ocean that lingered in her skin still. She knew the day was ending but felt comfortably paralyzed, in a place between the ocean and the earth. Embraced in a worldly blanket.  She smiled as the satisfaction of the lazy day rumbled through her body. Her mind was moving slowly and lazily. Her shoulders were relaxed and heavy, tanned and firm from all the early morning swims. Her hands soft from playing with the sand, making silly castles and moats. Her belly was patterned with tan lines from different swims...

 Why am I in love with you? Because you’re intelligent. You are smart and witty and in the chaos that I portray you seem to understand me. Reflecting on myself, I think I create that conversational chaos to keep people at a distance. A friendly way to keep to myself. But for those that easily see through my silliness (which to be honest is not that difficult), I end up admiring. The communication deepens and i feel at ease and relaxed and myself. I make friends this way.  But then I felt seen—deeper than I thought. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe I wanted it to be true. Regardless, I fell in love. The more I got to know you, the more your intelligence shone. I fell deeply for your brain, for your words, for your thoughts.  I wish I could tell you this, but life is weird and messy and this kind of admiration is left for those consumption riddled 18th century writers. And I don’t want to be weird.

What would my younger self think of my life? I gaslit myself into thinking what I do is somehow a creative outlet. It’s not. I am just another cog in the dumb machine. And I think I’m too exhausted or boring to do anything that makes my life worth it to me. In my head my friendships keep slipping away. As time passes I keep alienating my relationships. Even those that I thought were the most important. From a community to loneliness. That could be the title of my autobiography.  I miss what potential I once had. I’m in my twilight having made nothing. The sands of time have no edge to erode away. Who would want to be around me? I am old and tired. Makes me boring. I need to find other old people. 

 I don’t know how to distinguish love. I am a failure of a human. 

 Some days like today I feel I’m a broken puzzle piece. I think about where I belong and I find myself lacking any space. Everything seems forced and I feel bad about myself. It makes me want to leave. I feel or imagine all my friends are slowly retreating away from me. And I understand why. I don’t like me either. I am dumb, arrogant, stubborn, delusional; an idiot pretending to be likable. But people know. There’s just too much time or social pressure out just gentleness by those who know me to sever ties immediately with me. I am sorry to you all. I thought I could be good company but deep down I know I’m just a garbage human. I want to stop torturing you.  I don’t deserve friends or family. I have been daydreaming lately of never having existed at all. Everyday I just wish I could cease to be. But I hate myself so much that I don’t even make my wishes come true. I just continue in this world. Constantly knowing I do not contribute anything good. Anything unique. Any joy to...

 I don’t like you anymore. But every time I think of you my mind blanks out on everything else.  I always think of you.  I like you still. But whenever I hear you the hairs on the back of my neck stand up like soldiers after reverie.  I hear you sing  even in my dreams.  You never liked me. But the laughter and camaraderie were warmth for those lonely days.  You were always a little by yourself.  You liked me. But only on ways that meant we could always keep a distance.  You are now so far away that oceans drown our voices. 

 hay alguien que verderamente me extrañaria? si mi corazon dejara de latir, que alma sentiria tristeza por el silencio? si no existiera un mas respiro en mis pulmones, habria un corazon esperando mi oxigeno? [el silencio es enorme en esta habitacion, oscura y callada]

 I will miss this place. In this corner by the pine tree I feel secluded from the passersby. The lake breeze feels like a cozy blanket, not hot or cold but just right. The rustling of the nearby bushes lead me to ponder whether it’s birds or bunnies or just the wind dancing with the leaves.  Dancing how I dreamt of dancing with you. With out bodies close and moving filled with whimsy and fun. A smile on both of our faces as we step a little off beat.  But it was a dream I had while sitting in this spot. A dream that was just as dumb as hoping for world peace. As I sit here I keep thinking I will miss this place. It brings me peace and joy still. The people canoeing exist in a bubble floating away with what I can only imagine is effervescent happiness. Or pure zen.  But I feel the tug of the next space. I am finished here and all my dreams are vanishing as I wake up to my depleted existence. I’ve done it all I feel. I’ve been happy, sad, in love, heartbroken. I’ve lea...

 i see the wavelengths radiating off your body get redder and redder. what cosmic explosion set us to drift apart? was it new, or were we never destined to be together, forever running away from each other since the big bang? I see the look in your eyes as you accelerate into pure energy. time stops and the laws of physics break just to see you fly free. is there an astronomical attraction pulling you away? some dark matter pulling at your heart strings that i can't see? or does gravity not work between us? Oh comet! how many eons until i see your face again! I'll sit here, burning with desire until your icy self visits once more.

 La primera vez que quedé boquiabierto por ti fue aquel día que viniste ver una película en mi casa y tu camiseta que te quedaba muy corta se la pasaba subiendo exhibiendo al mundo tus caderas.  En ese momento, que fue solo un segundo, quedó grabado en mi corazón cada curva, cada músculo, cada peca, cada ángulo de tus huesos que se sobresalen y marcan tu vientre.  Ese segundo fue una eternidad en la cual te besé mil veces sobre cada cosa que vi. Ese espacio de 5 centímetros entre tu camiseta y tu cinturón se convirtió en un templo de mi nueva religión. Ese día te di mi alma sin esperar a la salvación.  Cómo rezo estos días? “Amor, no soy digno que me dejes acariciarte, pero una cachetada tuya es suficiente para enamorarme”. Idolatrar es un pecado que ahora entiendo.  Nunca jamás volviste a mi casa. El espacio que ocupaste ha sido ocupado por muchas otras. Pero ninguna me ha dejado boquiabierto como tú. 

 Eres una estrella fugaz. Pasas por mi vida y desde lejos quedo encarcelado en un amor que duele y da placer cómo una tortura agridulce llena de besos y cachetadas.  Eres brillante. De piel y cerebro. Con una sonrisa coqueta que adoro e ilusiono con saborear tu saliva. Resplandeciente es tu aura en la vida de los que te conocen, y en los que enamoras dejas ciegos.  Eres reservada. Cómo el río en los páramos, a veces no se ven, a veces no se escuchan, pero para aquellos afortunados de conocerte das vida y alegría donde solo había neblina y frío   Eres un fuego. Una llama que baila con caderas que te dan forma de un infinito lleno de pasión y locura. Bajo tu calma se ve un ardor que se desliza entre mis dedos y mis suspiros. Aquí estoy. Devórame, golpéame, quémame, déjame ciego. Lo que sea para estar cerca de ti y oler tus entrañas. Un roce tuyo con mi piel es una colisión de átomos que dura una eternidad. El tiempo nos deshace en millones de pedazos y cada uno anhela ...

 It was a long flight from Paris to Melbourne but the thought of a dive in the Australian waters had Anders giddy with joy. He was at the airport 3 hours early. Zero percent chance of missing his plane with the added benefit of airport people watching. A lost pastime he usually thought. He strutted to his gate while listening to the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack on his brand new sound canceling headphones. He had bought them just for this trip. Once he confirmed his gate existed he sauntered to a nearby airport bar that had out-facing little tables.  He was careful of a beverage choice. He’d really wanted an icy coke, something hard to find in Paris but easier in the airport, but thought that the carbonation would be risky with an upcomi ng flig ht. Anders was always trying to mitigate future failings. He was proud to be anal when it counted, like on vacation. He decided on a gimlet. This way he’d feel sophisticated and old world enough to fully immerse himself in the people...

Our fingers interlaced we formed a chain of pleasure.  Tied to each other we pulled into ourselves, with a frenzy to become one.  We feel each other entirely. We pulse synchronously, with a savage beat; passion and furor spark off of our skin as the air crackles with the lightning of our sex.  Kisses become a way to devour each other, interrupted only when we go so deep that my thickness and your tightness steal our breath.  As we fuck we become a tornado of everything we are. Our breath, our sweat, our muscles interchanged. We don’t know where one begins and the other ends. We whisper of love and honey and your nails dig into my body trying to find a way to express the inescapable desire for more and more.  As I thrust into your loveliness, I remember how you taste and I grin and lose myself into you. Body and soul.  As your hips push and take me in, you remember how it felt in your lips as you sucked me off. You lose yourself into me. Body and soul. ...

 No se como llegué a este punto de enamorarme de ti. Si cuando te conocí pensé que ni lograríamos ser amigos. Yo como siempre demasiado amistoso y acogedor y tu tranquila y poco emotiva. Después de esa tarde asoleada de otoño, pasé varias horas imaginando que fui muy aburrido para ti y que nunca te volvería a ver. Repetidamente me decía que era mejor así, ya que las diferencias entre nuestra forma de ser eran bastante amplias. Sin embargo sentí un punzón en el centro me di corazón. Había algo diferente en esa diferencia. No me podía explicar por qué me sentía tan melancólico de imaginar que no te tendría cerca. Que no volvería a invitarte a comer un helado en una tarde calurosa de otoño. Aunque fuiste poco emotiva la imagen de tu sonrisa quedó grabada en mi mente y pasó a mis sueños. Sin darme cuenta la semilla de mis sentimientos se sembró esa tarde.  (I don’t know where I want to take this narrative. Continue on the past and flesh out more the reasons why he loves her, or mo...

 Nieve en la flor,        La rosa encantada, abrazándote.

 A snowy temple,        a dream of a warming kiss, snow melts silently. 

 Para que escribirte un poema? Si no hay palabras capaces de ilustrar tu esencia? Tu piel de nieve, o de nube blanca y suave, de una leche alimenticia, de perla brillante; son solo metáforas mediocres en comparación con tu realidad resplandeciente (que me tiene loco por tocarte y acariciarte. Desnuda y bajo el sol para que me dejes ciego). Una mirada cómo la de Medusa. Convierte en piedra mármol al que se atreve a adorarte. Y aún así, hermosos son tus ojos que en un momento son azules cómo un zafiro sabio de esos de las profundidades de la tierra, y en otros cambian a una esmeralda, llena de vida, de tu naturaleza desafiante y apasionada. Tus ojos llevan a la locura y aunque nunca vuelva a respirar, sería una forma bella de morir (quiero verte sonreír con esos ojos, feliz de mi calor y de mis pensamientos, de un abrazo íntimo que dura horas en la cama, entrepiernados).  Y es que hasta tu caminar es indescriptible. Unos muslos largos y suaves, pero con cada paso se nota la silu...