weaving a
tangled
web of
truths
in the shape of
a poem
if feelings were visible on the inside as well as out
what do you think the pain would look like?
a cut so deep no tools can mend it.
permanent scar tissue and discolored raised skin.
what do you think anger would look like?
a pool of blood congealing and browned
lingering stains on everything the ooze touched
and what do you think a broken heart looks like
a heart ripped and shredded into pieces by your selfishness and blindness
tears red cheeks and gasping sobs
uncontrollable spasms of coughing
as the mucus white and sticky
collects in my lungs
and tissues wet and wrinkled like laundry
collect by my bed
i beat my brain to tell me why i cry
why i hurt
why i scream
at night when there is no one there to hold me close
your presence comes creeping
crawling
slithering
sliding
through every crack of my weathered body
the scent of you is everywhere
strangling the words from my throat
just as if you were squeezing an orange
and smiling sadistically as the juice runs down your hands.
words
put to paper
already lost
barely remembered
you told me it would help
to get a letter
then you would know
more
i could write it down
sealed stamped
sent
and delivered
postmarked
one thousand miles
from the past
my words
pressed on
bent
by machines
and hands
tossed
and
torn
to arrive
at your door
filled with
the unspoken
at once
out in
the open
empty
naked pages
only lines
i take life too seriously
while it slips out of control
i keep on shoveling
while digging my way out of this hole
i feel the cracks and creases
running their fingers up my spine
i hear injury and diseases
stealing what is mine
i feel homesick
but i'm sick to death
and everything sticks
when there's nothing left
i don't know what to do
but i have a new place to turn
i am turning now to you
so show me what to learn
di me tus palabras bonitas
da me su alma puro
di me como me amas
da me in besitio
yo los cuidado
pero no voy a volvera
Translation:
tell me your pretty words
give me your pure soul
tell me how you love me
give me a little kiss
i will watch over them
but i will not return.
the sweat, the salt, the smell of nicotine and sweet cologne
the song, playing over and over, barely heard above the pulsing
the motion harshly tender, violating the pain with pleasure
your half spoken words of ecstasy, your desperate grasps for more
the stud against the curves, running with moisture
the hot liquid oozing between us like glue
your eyes rolled back like you are in another world with yourself
the bruises and scrapes, not visible now, but surely they will be in the morning
the sheets, a protective cocoon of cloth, holds us immobile and safe.
