Almond Vision

Daydreaming

 

When the sun hits my face on days like these,

I feel you more

Recollection of how I got here, turns to a held flame

Only to be burned

I know what I’ve found on days like these

The envy of all the light, with you

 

Meet me in my head

Where our daydreams never fade and your smile does the same

Time neither starts, nor begins

Self-delusional fool will echo on the grains

 

It’s getting harder to leave you be

Insanity will be a swift relief, yet

Nothing else matters

And I run towards sleep

 

Could it be, that you need me

As much as I need you?

Should it be, that you want me

As much as I want you?

 

Meet me in my head

Where our daydreams never fade and your smile does the same

Time neither starts, nor begins

Self-delusional fool will echo on the grains

Dig into my hand

With a beat that traces our skin to skin away from,

Logic and past ticking clocks

Self-brave human, lower your walls, and release the sand

 

No accident for this path, I finally admit who I am

Can’t you see where you walk, listen to who you are

And you finally hear me,

There’s no echo?

There’s no echo

I see where you stand, and the shadow your light casts

I finally see you

I see you

Standard
about a boy...

Twenty-five. Twenty-six.

I am going to be twenty-six years old and once again got dumped. I’m not sure what’s the point of telling someone that you love them. Not entirely sure what’s the point of telling a person all of your secrets. We seem to invest so much of ourselves into a person at the risk that any moment this individual may leave, and not only with your pieces, but with a far greater trophy; one’s heart.

It seems to be as time goes by humans want someone to spend the rest of their life with into old age. The future scares me, as it does for many people. What is the guarantee that you will be with a person forever? What is the guarantee of anything? There isn’t.

What’s so hard of enjoying someone in the present? More. Enough. What is enough?

Life is a choice. Everyday you choose something. You choose to have a good day. You choose to press the snooze button. You choose to go back on your phone and look at old photos, cough. Life is what you make it.

As I was being dumped, which by the way was a mess due to my OCD of needing ‘closure,’ which also wasn’t granted,  I saw a change in his tone. During the midst of my tears he told me “This is life. You don’t get what you want.” How could someone say that? That’s not life. That’s survival. I was brought up with the notion if you want something you go out and get it; you give it your all. I was under the simple thought that if you want someone, be with them, why was it so hard? Contradictory statements were all that I got. “I love you, and I want to be with you, but I don’t want to work it out anymore.” This is what I got. This is what I was left with. Confusion. Obviously, he didn’t want it hard enough.

This was a person who loved me more than I ever knew. I knew he loved me, I absolutely knew he loved me. Yet, in that moment, I couldn’t convince myself that he did. The glass was shattered. He no longer felt and thought with his heart, his actions and words were sharp, cold, and analytical. Being in love blinds us from logic, while simply loving a person is enough to see what the world sees; for the person to back away and think with logic. This is how I knew it was done.

I am going to be twenty-six and had an interesting twenty-five. I got to spend it with a person that I truly loved. I wasn’t settling, I wasn’t looking. This guy just came to me. Sparks flew and I fell in love. It didn’t happen over night, but once I let the past go I was ready to take this person’s hand. Maybe I dropped the past too late? Maybe fear was the beast to blame? I won’t know. I didn’t want to be another lesson, or learn anything. I don’t even want to figure out what went wrong. Twenty-five pushed myself in this world than most years. Twenty-five gave me someone who I’ll always remember. Someone who actually got me. Didn’t turn me away while I went crazy, and who I found more than comfort in his arms. We were the same height. He had a tortoise. And we were two years and one day apart. Within that year I felt love a second time around, felt a person crawl under my skin, had him in my mind, and he stepped inside my heart. People stay as long as they need to be, if that’s what you believe. People stay as long as they want to be, what I believe.

As long as you fight for anything with your heart, you will not hold regrets.

I fought.

I lost the battle.

Yet not the war.

Twenty-six, I await you with welcoming arms.

 

Standard
Word Vomit

Memory Serves

Memory serves nothing good.

an escape, that’s what is left behind.

but it’s all you

left in me

that he sees.

what angle can I use,

what line should I cross,

to look the other way?

time weaves us all

in the basket that can’t hold my tears.

what is left?

memory serves liars.

Sadistic, masochistic, pathetic, perfectionists that hate the reflection of themselves in others.

who to hate?

I want to create something

more than a fleeting orgasm

it’ll last till the next

and I’ll do it again to get that high

one thing I can control

and I can’t anymore

and nothing is left but the thoughts.

my eyes leave his

pray for blindness.

let me feel.

memory serves the damned.

 

 

Standard
LIfe Journey

Salt…

There’s an adoration

that’s waiting to be born

I’m killing time, while we draw our lines

and hypocrisy and jealously consumes my present being

I laugh it off in his arms

and remind myself that this is good for me

and I over think all the possibilities

and reasons for his charm

I lay awake in his bed with words I wrote for you

my quiet preconceived thoughts of you

the highly anticipated, deceitful screw

and the lines get wider as time pushes them apart

I’m holding on to memories, oh I wish I was at the start

and I dial for your voice but hear her questioning mine

hypocrisy and jealously now lead me to spite

and I’ll run, and I’ll run again

my adoration already lost her moon

and I’ll run, and I’ll run

…to forget you

and we keep hiding the inevitable with old, “I love you’s”

and we keep hurting to erase one another

I scratch at every pore to scrape my imperfections

I try to seek the new

dirty fingernails hold our secrets,

hush salty lips impressed in time

if you stay, if you stay, don’t go away, if I stay, it will pay off soon

Standard
about a boy...

About a boy…

mom: “Which is easier, falling in love or falling out of love?”

me: “falling in love.”

mom: “why?”

me:”…because when you fall in love, you only know what you see and what you feel. It hits you fast or slow but that’s all you know. Falling out is hard, but not impossible. you’ll always have memories and more than what you see or feel. that’s when you think. you don’t think when you fall in love.”

This is how it started, how a simple question triggered me to write this.

I’ve been in a block, a horrible disease cursed on writers. this passion in every word I use to write about had a start. It was always about a boy. This muse and inspiration that believes in me more and more as the years go by. An ex-lover by society’s titles. A boy, who is now a man, that continues to this day to be there for me. Even at the end of the day, a boy who gives me the emotion I need to write. The courage to face my past, more strength to realize what I’ve accomplished, and the sense of a bigger purpose for myself in this universe.

I wish I could tell him the truth, this horrible tangle of secrets.

Because regardless of technicalities, he told me the truth about her and killed me worse than imagined.

Because of technicalities, I never told him about them. There was no title in my situations, no one died.

I want to start from the beginning, when I first laid eyes on him 6 years ago when we were just strangers, to lovers, to friends, to a love that expired the use of labels.

how I used guys, and how I may have mentioned names but he never knew it all. Never knew who I slept with, who I kissed, who was there to help me forget him. It’s silly for this to even come up, it shouldn’t be an issue…yet it is.

I can’t fall out of love no matter how hard I try. No matter whose bed I wake up in.

I woke up in his bed this morning.
I woke up easily. no guilt. No dirt to be washed from my hands. I keep these little details hidden and tied the ends I needed and cut some along the way. That was easy for me. They were all there to help me forget. To replace. I wanted to feel, if I may be honest. I wanted to feel something new and took a piece from everyone I could.
…but in his bed. I felt new. A new feeling that evolved from the old. A new feeling that could only come from a previous one and no other replacement could get me that high.
Nothing else mattered on that mattress. I could count to you the problems that happened that day. The world fell apart, luck struck down…and there we were.
…because nothing else mattered.

The look I gave my mother, was a look she understood. She knew who I talked about when I looked down, replaying incidents in my head to produce those words. They all know who every word was written for, and the obvious battle in this war of love. When he showed up today, the murmurs and the assumptions that I felt from them couldn’t shake this smile that will carry me on to sleep.

She knows me well, my mother…she knew who I spoke about as my eyes looked down, desperately searching the back of my memories for a distraction. For reassurance…for him.

She knew it was about a boy…

Standard
Blogging, sad lesbian rants

Disneyland: A reminder how sucky ones life really is

I was supposed to go to Vegas this weekend and I’m glad I didn’t. Besides the fact of people I know from So. Cal going, Mr. Caramel ended up going. Now, this is just my luck but where ever I  am at, no matter how big the area is, I will always run into people. This is just how I was designed, I guess with a very receptive magnetic force.

To celebrate me avoiding this I ended up going to Disneyland with my friend.

I of course ran into two of my cousins from my dad’s side, their significant others, someones’ kid, and someone’s sister…twice. I never really got along with these cousins so it’s always an awkward visit. I try to keep these get together scarce, such as in someone’s wedding, funeral, or child-birth. It works better this way.

The thing that got me was when she looked around, and asked, “so it’s just you two?”

Yes, it’s just me and my friend.

What the hell!

After a fake smile the only thought in my head was yes, just because I didn’t get knocked up by the first guy I fucked.

That’s the bad part about Disneyland, if you go with certain people. It can either bring you up or down. You can either be a child or get like my friend who curses insanely more when at this theme park. It will also point out how alone you are, and how gay you are. We got gayer as the day progressed. We went on the merry-go-round, we took pictures by the castle, and we watched the fireworks. The whole time I thought, this is what my life has been reduced to? Underneath a romantic sky, with shooting stars, wishing bones, smiles, giggles, and hugs around me, with my friend of the same-sex? The whole thing sickened me.

On top of seeing them I ran into a girl that I hate. This is the girl I talked about how we work on “spite.” She of course was with her boyfriend. I didn’t want her to see me alone. It was Romy and Michele’s high school reunion all over again.

I know she saw me but was glad that our mutual spite led us to turn the other way around being only inches apart in line.

With all of my emotional crap Disneyland wasn’t the happiest place on earth.

I may have mentioned my fear of pregnancy before but at Disneyland it escalates. With all the strollers, all the crying children… it kills me.

Then deep, deep, like when the Grinch’s heart grows, I tell my friend how I eventually want children, eventually marriage. How I want the cliché proposal in front of the castle.

She gasps.

I blame it on me being sober and the children dressed up as princesses.

I’m not looking for a prince, but more of at least a solid stable feeling to get me through the week.

The highlight was meeting Mickey Mouse, the big cheese himself. I should’ve asked him out.

 

 

By the way, how come there isn’t a Prince at Disneyland that we can meet? ….I’d ride that.

 

 

Standard