Boob envy

Everyday people see any luck I have as a result of the male world's tendency to fill pretty girls with pleasantries. I wonder where so much boob envy comes from. Is it that hard for men to compete along side women that they have to find excuses for them being there? Or am I really here because I am not ugly nor pee standing? Should I frown at pleasantries and cry the weight of my unlucky days to deserve where I stand? Is my light spirit in any way confused with isotropic flirting and I should walk like a monkey, dress like a nun and smell like a horse to ensure I am not taking advantage of the nice driver that saw me wait for 4 cars before giving me passage out of the parking lot? Is the world that far gone that men don't believe that women could be having different opportunities than men such as different men do, not more, not less, just not the same? Or do all the men in my life feel the impulse to make me smile with an easy gesture and by assuming I receive those from all corners resent me for it instead? Would it be different if I were ugly? Would they petty me instead? Would it be different if I came to work provocative, would I at least get the special treatment and embrace my fast track? Will I ever feel like I deserve my place in the world when I like everyone else own it to my genetics and upbringing as the clay to shape my life and the freedom to hold so many options. I am thankful for my looks, my wit, my happy childhood, my expensive schooling and my challenges. I know I am not here on my own, there is a world behind me and it is called past. It holds each and everyone, mine may have been more fortune than average. And yet, if I can't deserve being here, can you deserve to judge me? You that only pay attention to the pleasantries you witness, you that question my worth based on...what? The assumption that I must have had an easier life? Are you sure you aren't being an unfair prick with a boob envy of the size of my pleasant life? At least I deserve to smile, because I am thankful for my life. You should be thankful too I am sure, and for every men that smiled back making me feel pretty there was another that whistled to me to make me feel uneasy. For every time I got something for free because I am a nice pretty girl, I was looked down by people such as you and considered as just that, just a pretty girl. I am not just a pretty girl, but I won't ever know how much of what I am is a pretty girl, I can tell you that it would be expensive to hire me as an engineer to decorate the room, that it would be pretty pointless to pass me in relativity and cosmology just because I was nice to look at during classes and it would be absolutely ridiculous to have 30 years of academic progress be defined by that. I am sure that if I was an aggressive looking dude I would on average loose on the human flexibility, but the extent of that has to be infamous, just enough to make me smile more often and make you a bitter old guy. So I am indeed a full package, undivisible and self-consistent as it is I have no idea of how much I am worth a side my pretty girl face, but I am surely worth more than you make me feel when you undermine me to such a part.

My heart cries

My heart cries!
I wish I could do the same but life just goes in such a pace it is hard to breath. I know that if I could just start my heart would feel lighter and no longer drown in its own tears.
My heart cries and for as many good things I leave as many good times I had I can't blame it, for these are weary tears for the love I hold dear.

My heart cries!
It sobs at the thought of having hurt you, at having hurt us, at having driven yet another nail to our tears.
My heart cries and will for many years for it doesn't want to let go of what it holds most dear, your love and our life together.

My heart cries!
... silent unseen tears.
It cries for help, it cries for forgiveness, it cries for the hope that we find a way to fix this distance.
My heart cries, yours does too and in the middle of all this a tinnier one fears.
My heart cries with wishes and urgency, for a way to fix before the hole is too deep, before the structure is damaged, before the language is so different our attempts will be lost in its length.

My heart cries!
Because it cares too much to let life stumble on in my hands fast as they go to catch up with the moving sands.
My heart cries because it misses beating at yours speed and feeling it close to mine.
My heart cries because we had something so precious and something as mundane as life is tearing it apart to make up for the constant run to the shop, to work, to the laundry basket, to the dishes, to breath... But what good is air without a heart beat? And hence the crie of my heart, your heart, the one I gave for you to have and you've been parting slowly since.

My heart cries! And yours too!
And in that they find the sync nothing else seems to get and while there are tears shared deeper than our eyes we can fix us and it is not too deep, too broad, too torn, too broken. While mine and your heart long for each other in silence we can mend the spoken words and speak the missing ones and bring forth the healing tears.

Dark side of love

Yesterday my son cried of fear,
it might have been the first time,
and it was fear of his mommy.
How to handle the ugly inside?

I can't seem to control frustration.
Not by the lack of exposure,
god knows I had my dose.
But by my caring too much.

I care too much that you refuse,
everything that I can ask of you.
I am anxious to keep you clean.
I dread of you being unsafe.

Hence my being too harsh,
too demanding of you,
too critical of home and me,
too ungrateful to daddy.

And you have a strong will,
maybe stronger than mine.
And I nag, scream or yell instead
of empowering you with love.

In the end I know it irrelevant,
but in the moment I only react.
I just love you so much I end up
being the fear in your eyes.

I wish you could comprehend,
that I could explain or make sense,
that you didn't have to understand,
that you didn't need to cry.

mommy smash

It happened again,
and will for certain.
I am not in control of
monsters under my skin.

I give up on excuses.
The more I think of why
the clearer it is there are none.
How will I manage?

I am sorry, I truly am.
Please forgive me and
if you can be you patient.

Mommy too needs you,
mommy is scary scared too
mommy loves you though.

Nonsense spiral

It sounds nonsensical that you should surround yourself by the spirit you harbor inside.
It looks unreasonable to shield from the forces that could carry you back from your depths.
It sickens as ironically moronic to search for perpetuating circumscribing circumstances.
It is absolutely irrational that you dig a deeper hole when you find darkness crawling at you.

And yet, after all and thereafter, here we are, drowning willingly in our own misery,
gorging ourselves in our own ecstasy, finding our paint for life's editing.
All because we are and want to keep being who we chose to become.
When the moment calls for it, you honor it, by clinging to the feeling you should fill.

So you seek for rain or you seek for sun shine,
you seek to fill the day with pain or pride,
removing the plain paint of life.

You find the power to live life to the fullest,
by deepening into your primary sensation,
thus vulnerable to the spiral of emotions.

Some days you just rain inside.

Some days you can't feel fun.
No matter how funny something is, no matter how much you can remember that is was, you can't feel fun.
These days you are numb to mostly anything, wandering around the house like a zombie attacking the fridge for nibbles and floating to life wishing to wish to feel.
You can't even lie to yourself long enough to pretend you wanted to feel, you can't even start searching for why you don't. What you are blocking outside your skin.
Some days you can feel the building of pain across your chest, crushing it out of air... and you know that if you could only let a tear drop.
If only you could feel the tiniest connection to this world, the pull of its gravity to uncertain fall, the iciness of the wind's breath, the burning heat of the beaming sun, the cut of your feet soles walking heavily through the shattered glass of your existence.
If only you could release some of this rage, of this suffering, of this transparency, of this unexistency. of this meaningless thought... you could just breathe.
And like awaken from a drowning experience your lungs would spit the sharp cold water out cutting their way through your throat and frizzing air would rage in descending with fierce and brutality to the core of your being and you could be ripped from undeath with such violence you wouldn't stop leaking until the last drop of water in you had converted to blood or tear.
But it isn't easy to find this razor of souls, it isn't easy to want to feel, not when you know that so much devastation awaits on the other side of this thick glass.
And then a bird lifts off, you watch its wings beating gently in the breeze, not knowing what let your guard down or whether you wanted this little  ray of sunshine to pierce but it is done. You are shattered into a million pieces and the healing begins. It will hurt so much more before it gets better, but you can feel and that shows you are alive and therefore capable of finding again that brief ray of sunshine, that slick moment of pure beauty that creeps at the corner of your eye all the time.

Friend don't despair

I have been fighting for the words to say, anything that could push you the right way.
And I am disappointed to say I didn't get that far anyway.
Here goes:
This sucks! - This isn't fair, nor reasonable and you have the right to hate everything!... now.
Life's a devious bitch! - When you get a little air to breath it punches you right in the nuts and knocks you down!
Love hurts! - Love is as hurtful as leaving is deadly! We weren't build to be treated this way, our fragile existence is torn to pieces with the wimps of this treacherous adventure!

Please, please... don't forget how much yesterday felt worth it all. Sit on your fingers for a while, gorge on chocolates and as many endulgements you can get your hands on... but remember life will still be here waiting for you. You have many people on your corner, I know you can count on me, when you decide to fight back. Remember, for every present there was a past and there will be a future, and the laws of physics dictate that better days will come.

How little can you do?

What do you do, when a close friend loses his light?
When the person that daily greats you with a smile,
before which the sun refuses to rise,
loses his life long love in a swipe?

What can you do for some one who lost so much so fast?
It would be heartless to ask him to remember the rest,
the family that stands with him in the pain of this day.
It would be cold to make him feel that he should feel lucky.
Telling someone they are lucky to have had such nice dads,
or to have had great friends is honestly the greatest way to look at life.
But your love, the one person that warms your bed if only with rage,
the one person that knows your insides and not only metaphorically,
the one person that molded you as you grew together into the people you couldn't have been apart,
the one person in the world that compensates and completes you in way that is no longer dependable but an arm and a leg and half a brain and all your heart.
You can't ask them to feel lucky to have had that!
No one feels lucky to have had it!
No gandi, jesus or buda could feel anything but betrayed by death and cheated by life.
No reason or higher purpose is there to cut someone in half this way.
To reap the beating heart from its chest without a warning and then ask him to leave on.
It is not a part of you that dies. People survive, he will get up and learn to walk again, strong as he is and above all altruistic as he is, because others need him to.
But he died and was revived for the sake of others.
No one can diminish that, no one can take away the size of the pain that he must feel, that he needs to feel because he owns that much to her. Because he owns his leaving, his children, his whole being to her. Because he owns her more tears than his eyes could ever muster. Because not feeling so would robe him of the so much she meant to him, the love she gave for so long in all its human forms.
Because to rob him of her nagging, of her shouting, of her complaint, of her requests, of her expectations, of her thoughts, of her reasoning, of her smile, of her warmth, of her life is inhuman and to ask him now to recognize that she was so much more than anyone could ever ask for is even more so.
No amount of love we all as friends could send his way could hold him to earth and catch him from this fall. I just hope in time we can help him collect all of his pieces and get back a fraction of who he has been.
But what do you say to someone at this moment?
What do you do?
 You quietly cry wishing there was something you could do.
And thank heaven that he is strong and will come out on the other side, just enough for us to grab and help carry the rest of the road.

The best way to go, just a thought

This night I dreamed of the best way to go!
It was not a depressive thought, or a cry for help.
Dreams are often a simulation of a hard situation,
when they aren't senseless fragments of memory processing,
to prepare your reasoning for "in case", or yet another case.

I dreamed I was homicidal and that I realized it.
In realizing it I dreamed I should end it.
You know, to save those closest to me!
 Amazing that in a reality you control
when you're given a horrible conundrum
you can still twisted making yourself the hero.

So I found that the most important is
the audience and hence the stage.
You don't want to be found by your loved ones.
You want them to be told and prepared.

You don't want to be seen by children.
You don't want it to make a mess.

You could jump of a bridge,
a classic if somewhat dramatic option.
But when and how would they get closure?

I have no exuberant expectations of leaving hearts broken,
but I have some trust in the addictiness of human heart in pain,
why else would I dream of ending?

I don't expect nothing else from those few loved ones.
Those I find everyday when I wake and when I go to sleep,
and those I remember fondly then and again.

So I am left with one dirty but simple solution,
poisoning myself in the bathroom of a hospital.

How anticlimactic, indeed!
But raw, and effective and clean and painless.

I apologize to medical staff that endure the worst
for the best of our society,
but they would endure it eventually,
might as well save them the trip
and with it save the others the pain.

Just don't forget to leave behind an apology:
You nameless angels of the hurt
will silently save the world from its own.
I'll ask you for one more.
To who I love the most, I did it for you.

Story of a grown child

Once upon a time,
a child looked to the sky.
She saw birds and clouds
and the infinite pool of light.

She asked why would it be
why should it have to be
as complicated as it seemed
for all those working bees?

She said no, not me!
That will never be!
I shall remain free!

And she worked to be free,
from all those must bes
choosing her own priorities.

Unknown depression

I don't know what is wrong with me,
and yet something definitely is.
I can't tell or point at the source,
I can't face or digest the consequence.

I can't understand the weight at my feet,
or the pain behind my smile.
I know not where the bursting originates,
or the angst and constant build up.

I know I would be crazy without you,
I know I would be nothing without him,
I know I am lost within us.

I fear the passage of time
and the continuity of it all.
I fear fear caused in his tiny eyes.

Overwelming tide of tired

Don't know how long it's been
since the latest release.
Just know not long enough!
Just know too long a stretch!

I had few instants to feast,
to gloat at the new conquest,
my body succumbed to the climb,
everywhere pain and sigh.

My mind is racing wild,
searching for its own cry,
filling mimicking the crust.

Then he cries out for milk,
and I'm filled with drive.
All else pushed by his smile!

My limit

Tell me not to carry on, but how!
Shout not at my despair, show me light!
Display no discontent, for mine
is the greatest disappointment.

Force me to soldier on,
with no guide nor map?
Empower my hike,
in deafness to my pain.

Shall I crumble, shall I break,
or shall I stretch once again
at the sound of your cheer?

I fear my limit is to find me,
before I find the unreachable goal,
will you find in it my demise?

Soldier on

I close my eyes for they win,
I breathe slowly, attempting to recover
time has passed leaving little less
than a list of all that should have been.

I regret not, nor ought I to,
but I fear the weight
of this eternal race
I dread the day that is then was.

Should the unsteady pace fail me,
and I could stand no more,
how to hide myself the sore?

I recognize the end of my strength,
I realize it lacking towards my fate,
but how to trudge on?