it’s in these late night walks by my lonesome that i feel heavily, be it elation or misery. last night was a three-piece ensemble: warmth in my chest and through my limbs, a cool electric on my flesh, a carpet of wind beneath my feet. up ahead a faint red glow spilled over the asphalt and i couldn’t help but admire it for a minute. it was 1:35am on a Monday, and in front of me were the undertones to my racing thoughts. you see, lush red is the color of desire. and there is this woman… she’s out there, and i’m here. there is such great distance. ah, but one day… one day, here and there will be the same place finally.



i made the decision to walk along the length of A. Lopez Street at early dawn as the sky above me went from black to a pretty kind of blue, a stupid grin plastered on my face as i was thinking thoughts of you, feet treading along with ease… and inside my chest was a reflection of the aqua blue morning and its lofty serenity

Ahh, I shouldn’t be so scared; after all, the purpose I assigned to my life was to see all there is to see, and feel all there is to feel.

i mistook the clouds for mountains. what with their light blue silhouette against an even lighter shade of blue, sliding softly into hues of pink. there is a line of green lights cut straight across them, and i had initially pegged them as houses. but when the clouds started fading into the rest of the atmosphere i realized it was a crane from somewhere nearby. what am i doing here staring at something so distant? the storefront lights and the harsh glare from the streetlamp didn’t even bother me. from where i stand, the pink and blue palette only shared a slice of the vista. regardless, it was all i saw and its inconsequential presence gave me a momentary peace of mind. then there was little light left and i am left with nothing to gaze at and wonder about. the sounds from the bickering passersby and grumbling engines on the street started to crowd my mind and so i retreated back into my limbo room.

now i am at the fringes of that monster of an ocean responsible for stripping everything but my name from me, my back is towards it, i am smelling an all-too familiar breeze, though i am not quite ready yet. been filling up any hint of vacancy with booze and company. i am only just slowly getting into it. i have never been one to make abrupt changes, but i keep it all inside my wormy little brain and so everybody sees it as volatility. i protest the only way i know how – silently – world weary eyes brushing to the side, wishing my mouth could be as eloquent as the words dribbling through my mind. i’ve taught myself not to try so hard to be understood, i don’t always have to be understood, i used to wish somebody’d try to understand, but it doesn’t really matter does it.