I was cuddled up in a sheet that day,
watching the raindrops trace on my reflection,
on the dusty window.
A sound of a drop reverberated more
than the ghastly silence.
In a few minutes, the dust melted away.
The sky wasn’t bright, neither was it dark.
It was an essential gray, promising of a tempting void
that smelled of a fresh petrichor
and a floor made of broken glasses
that has forgotten to bleed the flesh.

I fed my everlasting reflections
to these broken mirrors
till the floor smelled of my debauchery
of selling facades of appeasement

I made a tryst with myself,
to be brutally honest
to my purpose on this planet.

And so, here am I,
abiding the tryst,
It’s the mellow beginning.
A warm end awaits, I believe.

It happens sometimes
between winter and the sultry summer,
my words and visions refuse to mate,
no amount of alcohol urges them
to this universal transfixion
on a piece of a patient paper

I have no choice left,
I visit the dusted mirror
in my inhospitable washroom again
the vortex of time swallows me inherently,
as I fall through the voiceless oceans
and painstaking cheap bars
that are out of beer.

I walk through the autumnal rains
where the birds have learned to hide
and the leaves refuse to be touched.
The maidens are no longer beautiful,
Houses full of Japanese crockery
and European paintings
are half submerged in filthy ponds
to be admired by filthy fishes
with filthy brains.

The kids are running and laughing
on the roads but I can’t see their faces.
The dogs no longer bark, but they have
tears of joy and my hands have forgotten to
pet these loyal creatures. Their tails don’t wag now.
They refuse to acknowledge my existence.

I see my twin somewhere.
The only one who smiles back at me.
Contented but not happy,
his eyes are his stories,
his soft hands; devoid of typing
are his unwritten poems.
I have to **** him.

Before he swims out of this vortex.
Before he swims into me.
Before he falls in love with himself.

Let us wake up someday
in the shadow of the dreams
where your lips are the only light
and I am inured to blindness.

Guide me to them
but not by touch
for this heart
shall memorize the curves
and you will be lost forever.

A smell shall suffice,
transverse me through your body slowly.
Till it is the light only that I can smell.
The light only, I can feel.

Let me be the mirage
in the deserts of your loneliness.
You will be the river that flows within me.
We will forget the thirst at least.

Till these dreams are sublimated
and the shadows vanish,
Come, walk on the dark side
of these fragile dreams
where the music fades
as the dark green leaves
welcome our toes.

I shall teach you someday
to seek darkness in the fire
and we shall make a home out of it.
I promise.

I don't know who she is,
but I can make
believe the truth.

She’s a princess
Of an island
Somewhere right outside Peru.

She’s the daughter
Of a grand king
And a lovely queen too.

I imagine
A long line
Of men who’d want to pursue

The fair maiden
the heiress
Of a throne she’ll soon assume.

She’ll rule with power and grace,
A smile on her face,
Kindness in her heart,
She’ll give the kingdom a new start.

Though some may doubt,
I know that's who she'll be.
Even if she's not,
She'll always be a princess to me.

I have to let him go
and accept his loss
My loss
of what could have been
But would never have

I can imagine my life in a lot of ways.
I’m an artist.
I’m a social worker.
I’m a traveler with a backpack and a ukulele that walks the borders of people’s lives stopping by for their capital moments and leaving to a port, passing to my next adventure.
The honest truth is I am overwhelmed by the trauma in the world.
Should I illuminate it in scenes that make you question your own morality?
Shall I work, and callus my hands in the rough of the this reality or should I run? Run through and learn and question and return only to realize I can’t live like this anymore. I can’t live in a society of things that hold value, rather than life. In a place where people’s problems are too small when I know that all you need to be happy is clean water, warmth and enough food so you can sit and share, and laugh and love.
But that love is important too. And in whatever life I imagine I want that. A love that stretches past my vast valleys of imperfections and who will share theirs with me. A love that can withstand and give strength in the bends of life. And as we take those tight corners, whatever we imagine, will be together.

Close your eyes and Imagine this

Morning dawns and ready to wake
Darkness
It’s all you see
You think you’re dreaming
You’re not
somehow your colorful world
turned black
with a blink of an eye
you call for anyone
no one responds
remembering all are at work
you try and remember
your room
your reflection
everything


Having to rely on your senses
Feeling
Hearing
Taste
Smell
All growing stronger
As sight was taken
Everything you knew how to do
Drive
Read
Cook
Etc.
You can no longer do or have to relearn a new way or
Not be able to do it again

Your heart pounding
your mind and body in panic mode
you struggle trying to find your phone
to call for help
takes minutes on minutes
everyone thinks it’s a joke
for it is April 1st
to stumble from one room to another
slowly remembering where,
what everything looks like
breaking down to cry
for it is all you can do

Making your way to the kitchen for some food
The easiest is cereal
For fewest things are required
The day passes and
All you can do is sit and think
On anything and everything

It’s close to bedtime
You know
For your eyes are getting heavy
You close your eyeys
When the whole day it already felt
As if you never opened them

Morning comes and afraid to open
But do so admitting you’re now blind
And will begin to adjust
You open

Color?
your room?
Your reflection?

What if for one day you were blind?