Was matter always so complicated like this? Why can’t it just be that one unified law of physics? You know like: to every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. But no! It’s more or less along the lines of: to every action there is an opposite and equal Hadron reverberating to the moving mass – then the Higgs Boson, a particle that permeates all of existence. Does God reside within these finite yet infinite strings? Forever suspended between bubbles of multiverses sequencing in endless events, some repetitive – some not so much; be it a bullet train, my grip around the coffee mug, the soft touch of a baby’s head or the very breath I take. Is that ‘space’ the Matrix in its natural format per-se? Those dark spaces between the Hawking radiation and the very foundation of thermodynamics, are those occasional hiding spots for God? Until science comes along after epochs to try and find the puppeteer only for him to be gone, again? Won’t that take a million years and many civilizations to flourish and crush? Assuming we don’t encounter extinction like this one. Continue reading
It’s quite often that I pluck the burning cigarette onto the curtain cloth, it’s a bad old habit. But you know what they say: “old habits die hard” or something of the sort. Pease, leave me a receipt after I check out and I’ll have your curtain replaced.
You know what… I have been on a bit of a bender as of late; in and out of motels and moving state to state. Sometimes I’m not sure if I am entrapped in a fight with time dimensions. I can almost see my past when I exhale the smokey hallucinations. I could feel the joints in my wrist, twist and bend and flex to the paperweight of my Marlboro. Continue reading
I can feel my whole bodyweight on my 10-ounce gloves, the blood… the blood feels cold, little cherry-red drops mixed with sweat authenticate on the wrist wraps. I find my bearings and barely grab a hold of my fallen mouth piece.
“Get up… get your ass up, champ!” I turn and, as if time had slowed down, make out the blurring figures of my uncle and coach yelling and slamming their arms on the canvas.
The crowd, thousands of them, their chants and screams no longer audible in my ringing eardrum – I could barely feel my legs. The fingers in my gloves tighten into a fist and I assume a fighting pose almost instinctively. Like a wounded bull, I take a few drunken steps closer towards my defeat… Continue reading
I love it when both streaks of your hairs fall over your shoulders almost involuntarily. We’re drunk dancing on a sidewalk with probably the same record of The Cranberries playing over and over again. I’d take my shirt off and do handstands on a frozen lake, just to see your smile with a warm steam fuming this winter. Help one another climb up a bark tree, then I’d hold you in my arms wrapping you into me and dive back first onto a bed of autumn leaves. Slide down the vert ramp at a skate park and when we’re bored of that we break into a water park at night and get chased out by angry security. Kiss you in the back of that “open late hours” pizzeria. I like it when a strand of your hair gets caught between our lips. Continue reading
Your nail polish bent light
at satisfactory fractions,
at will – playing into the night,
refracting alcoholic photons
distorting colors in a strange way;
complimenting the dying Winehouse
in an elaborate estrogen-fueled fumes,
the melodic haze fogging your aura.
I thought it was a chemical imbalance
in my mind, eyes and taste buds…
It’s believing my lie; the simulacra,
or it could be another illusion – Continue reading
Spanish-style dwellings flanking the tile flooring, horseshoes echoing perfectly under the attic as steroids-infused steads walk so gracefully while bleeding from the nose – it’s my lucky day at the track. They, inside sources connected to powerful cartel jefes, claimed number 7 and 3 are juiced to the gills and I’m putting down a good ten grand on each because to hell with my probation officer, ex-wife and prison councilor they were all wrong. The cold corona seems to facilitate the sweat across the flower-patterned shirt but it’s my khaki shorts that took the most beating. Apparently, one of the golfer’s escorts had the evil eye. That or the devil got poor number 7 he tripped face-first at the initial turn, Jesus… The number 3 horse, on the other hand, came in second – looks like I’m drinking myself to sleep in the afternoon again. Continue reading
Many people know me, but it still gets kinda lonely. Not the stars that shoot my name or the camera flashes that authenticate the lines on my forehead. Or that perfect area where I rest my hand as we slow dance with my co-starlet at the ball to a film premiere ever gave me a seldom feeling of belonging. Sometimes, I’d wander into a room and just like that – I’m the life of a party. The cheers, the laughter, the powder and the selfies. Valley girls doing body shots and popping mollies; oh it got pretty crazy. Over the smog and the mirage of North Irvine hills it got me all hazy.Continue reading
There was that single playing on the Homepod you said it was a hit in the eighties even though we are both children of the nineties. You spent a hundred-dollars of our money, most of it is my hard-earned, on a ‘best hits’ record of 80s various artists. You grew out a ‘fuck off’ handlebar moustache and dressed in hot pink shirts, it made me laugh if anything… The hairspray mullet, thick Ray-Bans, skinny Levis jeans and your lanky physique; let’s just say it stood out very, very well. Then you sold your old KIA for a 1980 Trans Am. You surprised me on my birthday pulling up in the muscle car while blasting Bon Jovi – here, I knew you lost it! And it was all because of that one time I might have said: “I find the eighties interesting…” Continue reading
Lazarus is asleep,
no awakening – no weep.
Only a false prophet,
and the evening’s chef,
a performance upon a table
where we feast.
There is an awakening,
there is a beast,
not one of valor,
but one of wrath.
Havoc meets the eye;
flood and fire – worship you,
their names on your blood,
their frames on your walls;
it runs deep. Continue reading
The way your mascara tears ran down your breasts, the line it left behind of charcoal and coffee-black, dried in every pore and curve of your skin. The scent of your perfume mixed with the humid sweat, authenticated by the golden shadow of the sunset hitting the smog-filled window panes. Your Lady Marisol-like demeanor and aristocratic elegance in the ruin of a few rails. Colombia’s finest and bloodiest at the tips of your fingernails. The 2004 Yamazaki shot glass with your fingerprints still on it, it sits camouflaged with the sun’s dying light fighting what’s to come of the devil’s hours. Continue reading
“It was like a golden arch when the sun rise came knocking on the door hinges, the windows were dark but when I saw that residue of dust particles hitting the underside of the door – it was spotless yet profound when my eyes tried to follow each dust particle. They kept me awake somehow…” I slammed my fifth shot of moonshine on the counter and the bartender signaled closing time. He held both his arms across his chest while throwing a piece of cleaning cloth over his shoulder. I looked back at Mr. Paul Marrane and there he was examining my every move and the hysteria behind my impulsive heartbreak poetry. Continue reading
This one time my friend Anas and I were hanging out and we decided to try this new Pizzeria place that just opened. I remember ordering a mushroom and margarita, we had it and it was great – so great in fact that we ordered another pie and by the time we were done with that one we were full, stuffed! We then went to the arcade played some games and we both called it a night it was too late to do anything else anyways. But, I remember going home and feeling something funny in my tummy – it was a little bit of an ache followed by dizziness. I tried some herbal tea because I thought it might just be indigestion, but it didn’t do anything. But soon after the tummy pain subsided I felt the dizziness get stronger – and more “spinney”. My head was spinning in circles and I tried sitting on my bed, but I couldn’t find it because the whole floor was going around me in circles. My tongue got heavy couldn’t utter a thing and then I just passed out on my bed – everything went dark… Continue reading
in my white cup.
Residue of your sweat,
in my fingertips.
in my Beats pill.
in my fabric rug. Continue reading
at the edge
of my tongue.
in my lung.
Tiring is prior
to a limbo
as she drives me into Continue reading
Kids these days, they just hog their phones all day and can’t even spare a second to say “hello”. I can’t even make eye contact with my kids – bending their necks over their texts, Twitter timelines and pointless YouTube comments. It’s either their phones or their gaming consoles controlling lifeless characters performing auto thefts or murdering hookers. All while their pointless notification feeds load up so that they can check on it and get the dosage of ‘feel good’ Dopamine in their clogged little heads. I want to conversate and have an uninterrupted interaction with my kids again. Most importantly, I want to enjoy a warm meal with them. Which is why I recently introduced the ‘basket policy’, a simple fiber basket I bought on discount from Walmart. Continue reading
Hello sir, would you care for the red pill or the blue one?
Oh I’m sorry we’re all out of stock in social awareness,
we only have humor and yoga for choices.
or you know what…
(Ok I should probably drop this on them right here) Continue reading
When the sun sets upon the Obispo
orange hue reflecting from the saxo,
your arms falling on the playing piano
your jawlines cutting the tungsten dispersing the embers of your beauty Continue reading