YOU’RE TOO YOUNG!

YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND! OH, YOU COULDN’T POSSIBLY UNDERSTAND!

OH YOUNG, TOO YOUNG!

YOU DON’T KNOW WHAT LIFE IS LIKE, YOU WON’T KNOW, YOU CAN’T KNOW!

YOU HAVE NOTHING, REMEMBER THAT, YOU HAVE NOTHING!

yet it is I that knows you, loves you, tolerates you, knows you need me as much as I need you. Life was never easy, it will never be for both of us.

How can you be so blind? Why do you cover the sun with your thumb?

YOU CAN’T PROTECT YOURSELF, I HAVE TO BE IN CONTROL, GIVE ME CONTROL

PEOPLE WILL TRY TO MANIPULATE YOU, THEY ARE PREYING ON YOU, THEY WILL KEEP TRYING TO MANIPULATE YOU

I AM TRYING TO MANIPULATE YOU…

why would I trust you? why do I trust you? I am something. I refuse to be nothing.

Energy, it’s such a deadly force. It is because it cannot be created or destroyed that it sticks like the plague.

A connection is so hard to trust, to experience, to acknowledge. When you know the end will come before the beggining, it all feels like a dream, a fantasy.

He is patient and kind. He is passionate, compassionate, and emotive. He seeks truth in exchange for conviction, he argues for decency and respect. He stands by honesty and doesn’t lie.

The truth is all that they haven’t taken from him, so he fights for it

He understands what it is like to struggle, he lives it, breathes it.

He wakes up every morning to the sound of footsteps that press the canvas he sleeps on.

He looks down when the power of those above us beats down our tolerance. When we both asphyxiate from the bullshit of bureaucratic dominance. But I see his heart above his head, beating in resistance when his arms can’t hold up any longer.

He met me at a weird time in my life and I completely missed him. I didn’t notice. And now that I have, it ended before starting. Timing and distance, like all tragic heartbreak.

At the same time, this is nothing. It wasn’t created to be more than shared energy. Good energy. And while I’ll miss the feeling, I’m leaving it all behind me.

This is the end. Who is this ‘we’? who am I?

Implied Spaces

Raised, especially above the ground:

First of all it is not a discreet writer, but about the reality of numbers.

I will always drink Wednesday to sleep with you.

Life speaks.

Myth of a rabbit –

Look, there, beauty and fame seems to be in the news.

We are attached wines of society, the amount of wealth we are seeking.

We only have to pretend.

“From a fool, we crazy crazy”

– The existence of convenient lucky characters,… for many people raise towers.

Music Source:

Louis Jordan & His Tympany Five II

 

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Every morning, my mom routinely refuses to leave the house without coming up to my room and giving me a kiss on the forehead. 

While it is the sweetest and most constant thing that happens every day now, it is also the most sad. I know where the action stems from; she is afraid. She is afraid to not see me again before tomorrow’s forehead kiss.

She’s afraid of unfortunate events, she’s afraid of the things she can’t control, the things she can’t plan for, the things she wakes up in sweats about at dusk. 

I thought that my mom would stop fearing death after I beat it, but that’s the thing about death, it doesn’t sit there awaiting it’s occurrence, it haunts the weak in the name of uncertainty. 

I feel bad often, not caring or worrying about dying anymore. I can be reckless, unafraid, and even search for a reminder of what it felt like to be in danger. To remember the adrenaline that rushes through veins and capillaries when your heart hurts in desperation. 

Fight or flight. Always fighting, sometimes fleeing. 

But it’s all wrapped up in a forehead kiss. 

Funny how even a kiss is a force of resistance. 

Te amo Ma ❤