spazteca

Donde vamos mi amor
cuando desaparece el amor

este continente
se siente
tan solo
pero el ehecatl
del dentro dios sale
como un mal sudado
de una fiebre de dudas
suelta la lengua
que desempenia
tu luz

Cuando la tierra te llama
el viento te salva
en profecia de alma
con continentes de sangre
sin duda de pecado
hemos hecho algo
y adentro
los vientos...
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I have learned: the frailty of one's ego is only surpassed by the endurance of their hope.

Remember friend, just like you have to sin to be saved so to must you have something latent within you waiting to be inspired...

a sky and a moment
a cloud made of beauty
soaked in mystery
will leave those walking
in it's living dream

each bud it's...
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slivers slip silently under eyelids
burnt glass framing grass and me
burning, dischordant,
I mean synchopated
the rythm shuffles
sheetless music
shot out of my chest
despite my best
eternal rest.

Sing I there is no death
continuance is illusory
time is unruly and it kills me
kills me terribly
like gazelles cracked in tiger jaws.
[Crack + blood(broken) = food]
eat, that is, think....
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End age of abandon.

this and that things have never been as clearly un-concise as this moments revenge. Those particles which I have previously thought to be spiritually bound to an effervescent nature or pure political or otherwise knowledge-abley saturat-edly expositional writing is all divulged into something seemingly less tangible by my current extremes. In other words... I have been outsmarted. Not by anyone that is beyond my capabilities......
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a femenist piece
(no, I'm not afraid to call myself a femenist)

turn preconceived notions upside down,
my identity is not to function within set paramaters,
I choose to refute stereotypes and fuck up amateurs,
now that's not to say I don't have my own paradigms,
theories I believe relate to this day and time,
for example; now if you knew anything about feminism,
you'd...
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Blossoms burning from cigarette cherries
glimmering lights of branch bouqeuts
essence eternal of fistful hairs
dredging roots, spines, arms
peace of turmoil
seeking despair in longheld embraces
from sand a whisper of age erodes
decay of beautiful days

Knowing what I am
is as worth of
what I plan is feeling
where I have come
tonight; stars explode
with no lack of being
it is...
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Entry deleted 2/21/06 God I used to be drunk a lot.

what words have danced through lips of fire with icy tinge so delicately deliberate and so meaninglessly ascribed to epiphany.
murky waters lie as others have behind eyes open as wounds bearing likeness to obsidian. their frame a fragile structure of truth and deception; voice a mirror unparallel and cracked with the disdain of self, of pre-existing knowledge. all that is left is impossible. predictably...
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