Solamente me quedan memorias de un anochezer amenazador en el que tu y yo fuimos amigos mas amigables. En ese entonces, mientras mientras la luna caia y alumbraba tu rostro, eramos filosofos de un tiempo moderno. Encontrabamos respuestas inutoles a preguntas igual de locas. Mientras sosteniamos una conversacion, soltabamos el miedo al humano cotidiano, al el humano normal, y creabamos nuestras propias identidades. Ahora que sigue corriendo la luna atraves del cielo, busco las sombras que ya no me pertenecen. Que ya son amigas, como tu, del pasado. Esos mundos externos se fueron contigo, mi sonrisa, unica para ti, no vuelve a sonreir y el imitarla sera un fracaso. Ahora en el brillo de la noch cae mi conciencia, impura, que se sigue transtornado en fe. Por cuales espacios te encuentras? Acaso las sombras regresaran?

Take A Few Puffs Under the Rain

Take a few puffs under the rain
Have you smoked under the rain?
It makes you stupid
Pretentious, poetic?
Rain as it comes down
Splashing you with talent, or talent that’s hidden and suddenly a release of
A release of emotions and feelings
I sat on the bench in our dorms and I thought
Blocked everything for a moment, tried to see what came out
Pouring
Pun
Ha-ha
Rain sounds like water
Water in the showers which reminds me, like other things of him,
A shower which elevates thoughts
I’ve seen him
In showers
He takes some and I try not to think of seduction
Gay, fuck it, I did
Rain is still here, I’m still on the bench, wisps of murmurs encapsulate me in theme parks water parks
Another release of smoke, reminds me of cascading fog in the morning, or that one time I saw it as fog
In the night, steam, and I’m back to imagining
She would wait for me, an hour or so
Having antiquated conversations with my grandmother
I loved her for that, I love her for that
I loved my control over her
Her will was inducted to my spirit
Sex, magic or lovemaking
She would wait for me
I took another exhale as an exhale of my smoky American spirit
Nausea
Heartburn, upset stomach
Diarrhea
Another fake exhale of cigarette smoke
What is my American Spirit?
I’m smoking, or was smoking blacks
No American spirit
What is my American Spirit?
Am I dead emotionless?
Splash and I’m back to reality
Those murmurs become faint sounds
Those faint sounds, conversations
I love you
Open the door to the dorms
I love you
I’m here
stumbled to my friends dorm
Open this laptop and take a fake release of pondering fog.

A Natural Identity, Slowly Identified by Science’s Development

What is my identity? Alas! I have found it! It is the interpretation of scientific similarities between us all our hair, the color of our eyes, height, all those colliding with the natural identity of life. We are a Scientist’s Rose Slowly wilting, it is weird. We are all dying as we grow. Our leaves get bigger, brighter, the longest swan song there is.

Who am I? I am the seed of the past generations. I traveled across regions and lay my roots here. I am also a form of dandelion and multiply to travel across the land. Others see this as a regular course, but myself, with my colorful leaves represent a unique migration , still retaining the hues of my past.

To some I am a male, brown eyes, curly hair, a hyphened American. Yes I am, but I am also nature’s product , uniquely blossoming according to my environment and my emotions. The mitochondria in me is endowed by my good friends and family giving me energy to grow stronger.

It is warm sometimes, warm until the point that some of my leaves begin to crisp. Here comes the rain! A cool mist that lets me remain alive longer, I look up at the sky and see life! Life, in the form of heavenly droplets, one by one, transforming into small rainbow bodies against the sun.

Scientific Definition and Natural Magic tie into one. Photosynthesis of me. I embrace everything with open arms, stems and roots grow out to try new things. Sure, at times I may be a weed. It is caused by my mind’s reactions, human embodiments of negativity that are explained neurologically as well. I am not a perfect creation, I am wilting an example of my vulnerability.

I am wilting, but I like this. I am wiser, I know not to be Icarus and fly to close to the sun. To be like Persephone and fight to remain atop with this beautiful land.

My Mundane life is amazing, look at my colorful leaves! They are growing! I wonder what other colors may be born next. I also wonder what handprint I am going to leave. What genes will my seeds inherit? Nevertheless they will be both good and bad, helping my children become stronger.

I am Ivan five foot eight, eighteen years old, and starting life with the fertilizer of grandiose accomplishments, and the colors of my past. Science and art have identified me and I have identified myself.

It is the night, I should go to sleep. These travels have made me stronger.

The Human plant which I have become is nestled across the world’s foliage.

I am wilting, but I like this.

Speak

26 years ago Sebastian Acevedo of Chile was in complete inner destruction. His children had been taken by the CNI, CHile's secret police who murdered leftists. Acevedofelt like many people of that decade as well as today. Political suppresssion of one's feelings is always negative. There is never discourse always destruction. Why are people so into politics? I read Angels in America and Louis the man for whom politics speak through is utterly the most disturbing character, abandoning his lover and overall never knowing what he wants. Why are politics so important? I don't see it, I just don't. SHould we all set ourselves on fire to stop what destroys us? WHat ails you? SPeak of it. I'm tired of neverminds and forget it's. SPEAK YOUR MIND!!

JOG?

The gaze of the moon is upon me and as I run I see the glimmering welcomes of the city’s night life, arising from yet another day of diligence. How far is it to the moon? Can I get there with these shoes? I don’t know but my feet are starting to ache and the sound of my pace is making a melodious rhythm. One, Two, Three… another group of beats and I begin to make up a song. I do that sometimes; make up weird songs when I am in the moment. I guess it is just my impertinence to be creative. I believe that eighty percent of the time, my creativity is stifled by an unknown source and I want to compensate that problem but am unable to, resulting in word or drawing mush. I loathe mush. As I run today I tell myself “six laps stay on six laps non-stop”. I walk at lap five. Well I run and walk, but I still walk. Is self-discipline not able to compute within me? Ah, I have problem with staying on task. Lap five is my “fuck it!” lap, and this angers me! However there is a silver lining to all of this, as I contemplate why I can’t continue running, I am running lap six. Lap six is the enigma of my inner art. Lap six is my subconscious magnum opus. Why did I start talking about this? There goes that beat again, one, two, three. How far is it to the moon?

Quedate Luna

The boy sits in his desk, his dorm is messy.
His toy frog is sleeping with it's eyes open.
He wants to be aware of the kid's reactions.
The kid is confused.
Why is he feeling like this?
I dunno why I'm feeling like this.
I like her.
I like him.
i like them.
I hate them all, but I love them.
"He's pretentious" she says.
"i'm sorry. I'm sorry I am not as experienced with you smoking that joint."
"I'ts okay, I forgive you"
Shut up you are being fucken loud.
She's just an attetion whore.
Me Me Me me me me
her her her her
neither but both
headaches
maybe its the stupid conversations around people smarter than me
ridiculous and pathetic
Where's L.A when I need it?
My world is being run by unnecessary people.
Doesn't hurt to try and be nice, bitch
Sarcasm never caught nor captured, that net was too big.
That net is always big.
I'm gonna sleep with my eyes open tonight.

First Five Days Of Santa Cruz

Overall this school is amazing. You get the HELLA nice people that greet you everytime and they are always wanting to be your friend. The teachers aren't teaching at a pay limit. They exceed any stereotypes. However can they fix a broken heart?