I dreamt of a stroll on the sun.
I was nothing but smoke
moved by the solar winds
to and fro,
above and below.
Earth seemed like a blur,
distant and torn.
On a shore of sulphur,
I took corporeal form,
lit up a cigarette
and smiled at your song.

'bout to...

So...There is a tad to say about the kind of subject matter which swells my brain at this precise & full of no ones moment. Fear is not what comes around since there is nothing to feel afraid of cause this readiness to live means no fear to depart. Obviously enough, yet there are songs to be sung, a woman to love, people to hold, places to go, letters to pop, orgasms to come, speech to be told, smiles to behold & bridges to burn.
Angst is not what I think of right now for the peace which shoes my feet take me on a glide into memories of what came & what shall come.
Stillness cannot be what's taken hold cause I can surely see my eyes rolling over these words.
It is so peculiar, I acknowledge, how unaware I can be of an object onto which my mind has focused. It ain't P or a song, faulty words or a story, thoughts of blue or this summer, a pure trip or red tulips. I can say I got within a tiny pebble which could in time be just a delusion or a mental occurrence, which could drive me somewhere or simply arise an odd story.
Yet I trust that as usual the thing will show up at the most unpredictable moment, which certainly is nothing else but the appropriate.




Once upon a time in 2006

The events about to be portraited here are entirely fictional. Therefore, they should be considered real.

I do not attempt to make you believe what I am about to tell you. Either way, you ought to avoid thinking of what you regard as impossible. There are things our parents, institutions & our Lord have pointed out as wicked thus forgettable thus unfeasible. Hence, I ask you to unlearn or at least cease the thoughts of what you have been taught, for they will become a greater impediment. I do not mean to act as a threat to the piece of truth carefully laid before your eyes. I just intend to get your understanding of my occurrence. There is only one reason as to why I do not dare to face you as I say what I cowardly write, you understand. Such reason is nothing but plain fear, fear of being tagged as mental. Pills or electroshock therapy could not undo that I went through. The pain of loss would go on after padded cells & tranquilizers. When I mention 'tagged as mental' I refer to 'considered mentally or inadequately ill by you." So then, I have got nothing else to say except what I must say: I sold my soul to the devil so I could see you once more.


My insides have happened to have been burning all morning long. And it ain't nothing about passion, you understand.
But, I will be alright...
The prospective sharing of time will infuse with a different kind of blaze.



Take a sunny day to hold hands with who has redefined a great deal of occurrences on this path I might not dare call life anymore since the definitions of reality &/or home are long gone due to the sinuosity of being. Take a starry night to take into your arms who is the sun, moon & stars. Take any given time to let go of the failures which have beset you before & sing a tune she enjoys to smile at the thought of her.


From: J. Rojas
To: Y. Gómez
7:00:46 PM 06/11/2009


Ps. You know, it feels so wonderful to be in love...



Crckd hrt..........


So there is not much to write but that I am tongue-tied. Why?
Is it the pre b-day down?
Is it that of not overcoming what I said I would?
Is it that of noticing what is & what is not?
Is it the precise discernment?
Is it the inaccurate one?
Is it the lack of knowledge?
Is it the excess of hope?
Is it tongue-tiedness itself?
Is it plain fear?
Is it a burst of reality?
Is it the end of the beginning of the end?
Is it the beginning of the end of the beginning?
Is it plain fear?
Is it the fear of flying?
Is it a smack in the face?
Is it trust?
Is it mistrust?
Is it ssenilenol?
Is it bad chemicals?
Is it the weather?
Is it?
Is it a bunch of misunderstood autumns?
Is it a misunderstanding?
Is it a bad dream?
Is it the rabbit in my headlights?
Is it the expansive unexpected bullets?
Is it the expected ones?
Is it that notes taste better?
Is it I?
Is it me?


Keep some.
Waste the rest.
Share none.
Please trust.
There is hope.
What about patience...
Perhaps unliked, you know?

In time...

"Things eventually fall by themselves. There has been lots of said things. I cannot believe all them no more. I got to get some proof. There could not be any. There is not will. I was promised different weather, sweet behaviour, peace of mind & what has not gone on. Now I find one asking, 'Is anything real?'
Does this matter?
Eleven times two & then..."