Spilled Thoughts

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When my mind is trying to tell me something, and I don’t know what, I just start sketching and stuff spills out. And it just comes out. And it’s therapy. And I love it. And I want to share it with the world, even if no one gets it. Can you relate?

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I Think I’m Ready

I think I’m ready to live my life the way I wanted.

I think I’m ready to live my life and not look back.
I think I’m ready to see more than white and black;
to fly a little, to wake up late
no voices saying to face the day.

Sit in complete silence from dawn to dawn,
stay up ’til inspiration is gone.
In search of independence I’ve run away,
but the road is long, I’m halfway.

I miss sometimes the days I could write,
when I borrowed verses from the night;
the same old nights that made me ill,
but things seemed always a bit more chill.

Tranquil hibernation is what I long
in a chaotic world that’s gone so wrong.

I think I’m ready to let go of the past.
I think I’m ready to make my way out of the glass;
to mix the air with different waters, shake well,
barefoot walk on grass, break the spell.

I think I ought to live my life, I must.
Letting go would hurt less, at long last.

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Autumn Speaks

By the fire

To feel your flame fanning my feet. It’s these little moments for which I live. As long as I can do this, it is not so bad that the pages of my calendar have turned to October and the marble floors are a frozen sea. As long as I can do this, let that inevitable cycle go on again and again.

‘Long as I can turn on the heat.

Staring into a volcano; getting lost in my thoughts, wishing it didn’t burn to feel you so close. Like the rain, you make me find words in my head very deep. Our chemistry helps me breathe. Here, nothing matters. My Raynaud’s is forgotten. Just as pumpkin-cinnamon-apple-spice is a cliché, you are worth the repeat.

But I’ll run away. Unfortunately, sometimes, I’ll leave. Nothing’s perfect, you see. Though the moment equals infinity, your flame is short-lived. Promises should be eternal. I’ll be searching for the conditional warmth that your current brings across other unconditional seas.

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Broken Bonds

I parked my car by the blue line. The yellow line meant no parking, so I knew better to keep away. I was looking forward to seeing Aunt Marsala for the first time in forever. Before jumping out of the car, I double-checked that all the windows were up. Beep Beep. I locked the car. Aunt Marsala’s neighborhood looked dilapidated as ever. She had been a victim of life circumstances for far too long.

Once at the top of her doorsteps, I rang the bell and waited outside. Fiddling with my keys, rocking back and forth on my heels, moving my head from side to side in a watchful way… I couldn’t trust neighbors I never met. Besides, it was 95 degrees outside. Why am I wearing a long sleeve shirt precisely today? While I was reviewing my fashion choice, a tall bulky man opened up.

“Oh, hey!” I said. We made eye contact for roughly three seconds as he stuck his head out, as if to see who it was, but then his pupils wandered somewhere else in the distance.

“Um, hi,” he said in the coldest way. The only reason that I knew he was talking to me was because I was the only person standing before him. His voice couldn’t sound more apathetic. The man was my cousin Tito.

“Uh, is aunt Marsala home?”

“She’s somewhere inside.” he said, moving to his right side to let me inside. I walked in and went straight to the kitchen.

Not that I ever had a close familial relationship with Tito, but I remembered better times. Now, my presence annoyed him. Perhaps if I had stayed at the same illiterate level as him he would’ve shown me more attention, like he did to all my other cousins. But I guess I was too “refined” for his taste now. I brushed it off. After that awkward encounter, I couldn’t wait to see Aunt Marsala. I knew she would be glad to see me, unlike some people. I haven’t seen her in months!

Aunt Marsala always had some strange qualities to her that I could never figure out, but she was still more welcoming than other members in the family — and she always invited me to stay for lunch or dinner.

I sat at the kitchen table. Inches from me, was Tito, lying across the tan sofa watching TV. Thankfully, there was someone else in the room to make the air less tense, which moment didn’t last long, anyway, as Aunt Marsala appeared through the backdoor. She was holding a bucket and some scissors. Perhaps she was gardening. She looked strong and healthy, not bad for a 68-year-old.

“Amanda!” she said. She gave me a kiss on the cheek and then hugged me with much affection. “How have you been?” I used to visit her frequently in my teen years. As a grownup, I now have too much to do. I also moved out of town, which made visiting harder.

After giving aunt Marsala a big hug, she held me at arm’s length and studied me with palpable curiosity. My ear-to-ear genuine smile anticipated a joke from my favorite aunt, followed by endearing words. Instead, “Oh my god, your face looks like a balloon, you’ve gained weight, right?” she said. “Don’t let yourself go now!”

I could feel a burning sensation rushing from each side of my nose up to my tear duct. I looked away and blinked swiftly to stop myself before my eyes turned red. I was already battling insecurity issues, it was the last thing I needed to hear. It couldn’t have occurred to her that, maybe, the meds had caused my moon face. She knew I was ill.

Though shaky, my smile didn’t break, at least not on the outside. I stood there with no immediate response to her usual indiscretion, thinking of a hundred other things she could’ve said. I imagined she had a lot of better things to say. After all, she hadn’t seen me in two years.

Finally, I thought of something. “I have to go. I was just driving by and stopped to say hello.” She seemed surprised, but without further explanation I kissed her good-bye, and I left.

I could’ve sat down with her, laughing at the silliest things, like the old times. But that would’ve meant sitting through a potential hour of negative remarks because, when I revisited the memories I was holding on to, I realized that this was typical of her. She rarely ever had anything nice to say. I’d romanticized our past.

She was good to me, in her own ways; gratitude, that’s why I kept in touch. Memories of good times we used to spend and hopes that they could be repeated. Quite frankly, it was not the blood. It couldn’t be the blood anymore. We had grown old.

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Pretty Even

She remembers the times
he rubbed it all in her face.
Car payment, shopping sprees,
fancy meals, his fancy place.

Every argument led to one direction,
“I’ve done so much for you;
I’m the answer to your equation.”

Repetitive words
he said so often times,
made her question decisions
she made in her prime times.

Guilt, insecurity, loneliness, and misery,
She raced against life,
trying to change destiny.

Maybe he was right;
maybe she owed him a hundred.
He picked her up, after all,
when her days were thundered.

Pounding her head
with the hammer’s claws
until the impact
cut loose the gauze.

Countless years with no elation
were indeed grounds for cancellation.

Pretty even, she thought,
it had been paid off.

 

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Free Spirit

I wasn’t always free.
The spirit of freedom slowly made its way in,
year after year, removing the shame layer by layer,
until a bare soul and a mind in the open remained.
It made sense; carefree felt and looked better since.

 

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The Way You Work It

me quemas

No diggity! Actually, inspired by a different song that I hadn’t heard in forever and I’m addicted again. It’s called Me Haces Tanto Bien by Amistades Peligrosas (in Spanish, obviously). Here’s a bit of it:

Enséñame a bajar tu cremallera
ya sabes donde voy,
ya sabes que he pasado la frontera
arrancando algún botón,
que tú ya sabes que te pido más madera
y tú pides más nivel,
ya sabes como mantener la hoguera
ya sabes como sabe ya mi piel.

Tú me quemas con la punta de tus dedos
tus manos hacen llagas en mi piel
me abraso con tu lengua que es de fuego
la sangre hierve, o no lo ves?
que tú ya sabes que me tienes cuando quieras
ya sabes como soy
ya sabes que me entra la primera
ahora me sale algo mejor
me haces tanto bien…

Look it up if you like — it’s pretty freaking sexy!

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