in chicago: notions 17-18.

notion 17.

my love,
what if i don’t wake up
one day?
i hope you’ll recall
the nights,
which we got lost,
sleeping under a tent,
and in the church
we used to pray
to our agnostic god.
my love,
i’ve run out of room on this page,
but my heart
goes on





notion 18.

peel me open,
and tear me apart,
then let me know
what did you find?
i’m so ready.
i’m so ready
to just let go-
this whole world,
this whole world,
it can’t sustain me.
i need, i need,
i need. i need
so much more-
not just money,
but bigger hearts
to love again,
to love myself
w/ out pretending.


in chicago: notions 15-16.

notion 15.

so blue, we think of time,
but every moment’s been mistaken
for shadows of reality (like plato),
but now is not no more,
so i bid farewell
to whatever happens.
once it’s passed,
there is no future
just things that happen.
it’s not destiny
just a bunch of accidents,
and it’s not human nature
or personal will
just the planet revolving.
so blue, we think of time.
saying goodbye.





notion 16.

now my memories are shaking,
and i’m not sure what
i could have become
if there’d been more time,
but the waves came on
crashing and bones have
no choice, but to float.
so then drift with the
current, and eventually
there’ll be shore on my
island to keep my memories
before they become state property.


in chicago: notion 14.

notion 14.

lay there.
i’ve got secrets
to whisper,
so please,
just rest there now,
and listen
to the dreams
i’ve got to share
w/ you
because i need
them to become real.
and won’t you please,
help me,
make them real.
and we don’t have to remind
each other of everything
that may have happened,
and gone wrong.
we will make it disappear
if you’re hearing
what i’m saying.


in chicago: notions 12-13.

notion 12.

what did you mean?-
that the sunset was beautiful.
what did you mean?-
that it was the greatest morning,
waking up next to me.
and could you have meant?-
what i was thinking
as i opened
me eyes, awakened
to your cheek on my arm,
and my heart on display.
what did you mean?





notion 13.

do we just pretend?,
or do we really mean?
are we the islands?
we retreat to
when the world
gets too difficult,
when the words
get too complicated
to explain and work it through.
and i don’t know about you.
just pretend?-
that things are fine
when really they’re
so amazing.
so amazing! so amazing!
my soul waiting naked
to open up, to unravel
all of its secret desires
that you’ve inspired,
or do we just?-


in chicago: notions 9-11.

notion 9.

people watching.
our fears are hunters.
and then came the storm
to divide the sea
like ancient times
before past was memory,
and the future forgot.





notion 10.

she’s had my heart, and feels so heart shaped,
fit me in a box, then lock it so i,
can’t escape the hate we surround
everything we’ve created. forgive
the uninspired. forgive.





notion 11.

we’ve gotten so sad.
we have grown so sad,
and it’s hard letting go
of how i remember
that it was.
how the world used to be.
how it was.
you may not have
the time to explain,
but i’ve all the time,
all the time in the world for you,
as long as you promise
to come closer to me
because, because,
because i miss you so much.


in chicago: notions 7-8.

notion 7.

take me off the list. i am not
registering my i.d. or name
on a certificate that will detail
the broken memory of the humans
we are supposed to be, supposed to
be like the ancient memories of
the heart we used to be from
w/in the dreams we see when
we sleep. keep mine in a box
that’s locked w/ a key lying
hidden in another box. so many layers
that get set up to set you up before
the sun dries out the sea w/ an acid
no one saw coming but everyone
had a feeling.





notion 8.

let’s get spiritual, so i can be
something much more than what
we can see past a state
so high, we’re flying. wave
goodbye to the ghosts we
used to fear as children.
you’ll hold my hand
and i’ll hold yours,
so we can dream of the sea
till we escape from drowning,
till we understand what reality
means, and if sunshine is
new so we can pretend
to figure out.


in chicago: notions 5-6.

notion 5.

i am the blues
i have when my breath
starts to choke on the memories.
sometimes, i don’t have time
to say everything i’m thinking.
and is every thought even worth
mentioning? who am i
deceiving? everyone, but me.
nobody, but me
sees the colors i breathe
when i speak of dreams
created while traveling
on other dimensions,
planes of existence
until we’ve become pure.





notion 6.

wash away my heart. it holds too many secrets.
i am the island of regret. so far off,
can’t get back what i lack. the sun just
went black. there’s no way back. no
way back. i need my memories to
return to me from my eyes. i used to
see until i understood everything.
my heart is a broken piece of my
memory and how can i disappear
completely. if only we were wishing
of the dreams one used to be.


in chicago: notion 4.

notion 4.

we revolted against the time
in order to find what remains
when the bones are bare.
not that the universe
really cares, eventually
another big bang,
and a different life form
roaming the earth
after the centuries of
our memories.
is there recorded history for everything?
and if so, who’s recording it?
are we willing to admit
that at a certain point
the world was crashing?
galaxies eventually became
a song of lost memory.
no one remembers me,
or is it that everyone’s
constantly staring. i am a being,
quietly, breathing me heart.
all feeling, but conscious
can’t see everything.
can’t give up on thinking
the feelings, we emit.
i must admit. i must admit.


in chicago: notions 1-3.

notion 1.

ayer salio el sol y me pidió
que por favor le cantáramos
al amor.





notion 2.

return to childhood dreams,
which for so long i’ve missed.
we’ll fly off paradise
for some guidance
through the emptiness,
through the haze and the mist-
make sense out of all of this.
we’ll fly off paradise-
return to childhood dreams,
which for so long i’ve missed.

and we can pretend to say anything.
oh, we could even try being everything.
and should we keep things like this
or we could keep this a secret
when we disappear into the walls.
forget what winter’s like
when wrapped around your arms.





notion 3.

she’s not the little box
i like to keep her in.
she’s not the pretty hair
i like to pull to me.
can we be as perfect
as we imagined to be?