The Astronomer


They never taught her the prospects of feeling what was. Seemingly infinite, she was young. A far away star; unreachable. Even as toes slighlty began to press into pavement, leaving markings far more immense than the scars that faded with time, She spent peeking at night’s sky, hoping to discover…

Not one telescope could locate what was longed for…

And they couldnt see what she wanted, for herself…

Not an utter of sound shifted within them that spoke amoung this necessity. 

…Being one that fed tongue, mind, and hip, while weaking the valves ability to whisper messages of desire to one’s heart.

 Yet she’d embrace.

While they looked beyond  the frames she called dilated circles, a vulnerable peice of heart remained stranded above the cheek.

Downsized and neglected, two characteristics no one wanted.

Insides wimped as she stood under hungry circles surrounding dry lips, orbiting heated breath, and no interest in the amount of stars she knew by name.

Broken yolk was bonded, like bible said.

 What was left to reveal, sat beneath sweaty temples, and bushy brows. Glass like reflections shot empty visions, in a location they had not bothered to question or even checked to see whether the image staring back was feeling anything.

Between her full lips, brown like mocha, Grew mistakes. Outing every star that shone the differences in  good intentions and ugly desires.

I hope this is good, I was  a bit hesitant to post but, after taking these pictures. This was what my mind blew on me so… I hope you guys like it:) if not love it!!





If I told you I was fine.  The line managed to obtain the slient spine would scream.  Sulking. a serenade of the worst possible posture one could think, I’d be… discovered. Which wouldn’t be a bad thing considering the support needed would be much appreciated to an unfittting body, I’d be stooping in. A bit shorter than most, on days… just days.  Listening to the silence that slices meat lying between the crevices he cannot see without the aid of short cut fabric and lips like magic …

If I told you I’m alright. Prancing between the curtains, you’d see me low like no other. Piercing the thighs she screams, “what if I’d had none to give”. So now I’m giving them for the simple fact that others have none to relinquish. Gifts I call them.

And here the air exalting out of ribcages who claim an empty space, lie next to each other. Hand in hand, We’re an indecisive bunch of oddballs and limbo like no other, when will the next time be for us to go under…

If I told you I miss you, the  thin line remaining would shread to pieces before my alright turns into tears that never ran down, cheeks to be considered, a stream of consciousness from imported memories…only pondering fables she seeked in eyes, blowing through hypothetical tissue paper, disappointments ball themselves. As if bowing to the unbothered keeper of wellness in snot. I sniff in agreeance to apologies that tend to go unheard.

  STILL having yet to tell you how sorry I was for not living in bullshit…

Though I’m good. No the phrase doesn’t sound as convincing.  whose to say its been uttered from my lips , looking back on the thick skin and straight posture that holds up a body just long enough to fit the lines in my eyes. that draw  drowsy shrugs, imitating how many fucks are left to give….

trying to not be filled with happiness

when they decipher I’m healthy enough to lead my life the exact opposite

of low…


Bitter words seem more amusing with charmer…

Eyes that of glass to see through be so vague, concluding in each sentence said sweet and confusing to the mind of youth.  Once boredom is no longer needed to embrace with big hugs, naive girls stand in pathways of pure hopefulness and open arms.

Ones that cannot follow suit with a simple giggle at the sight of you singing her up a riddle she couldn’t define, nor guess as a spat of past lines bounced around again and again. Ending in revelations unnoticed.  Though not before grasping air left of lived desire…whereas desire now lies in her eyes for the fool who blew up, phone lines singing past times of riddles she couldn’t say with her own mind in the right way to be called his. Still rapping sentences she sits in her school chair holding a dictionary, realizing the probability to reap benefits of words with no action and reaasuance is to only help the habit and give into slurred tunes spoken through a dry tongue and inconsiderate heart.


Body then becomes sadness like mealancholia in summer heat sucking every inch and leaving an inaudible voice with a mass of daydreams incorporate of idealment on what could’ve been versus what remains…


Crazed days

On days like this I think back to the challenges of wrinkles in  your eyes that would send upon a severe sufferning of width in my lip, And eyes gazing following phrases tumbling out one by one,to replay the lines over and over.


 Only wishing to go back to the clueless girl I was…The one who stands today with little to less knowledge of the girl then calling herself clueless now again,  not knowing what to do with the emotions bottled within, written…and suppressed. 
Here, standing motionless waiting for someone she can’t depict to come and embrace the void she attempts sew up with images of her remembrances. 

Here I am on crazed days like this, with not much to say and pain that radiates from my abdomen to my chest, trailing from my eyes up to my imagination, that’s scarred in sacred happenings I wanted to happen that would’ve happened if nothing was screwed up. To the mess I call “the mess I cannot label” for there’s no label for that love. 

To my giggles buried deep waiting to shovel themselves out, on these crazed days where I am one way and you, not far from me.



Letter to a stranger

His cheeks rosy from exhaustion and sweat, heart pumping, knees knocking. He’s running. What for? 

I don’t know.

 A letter to the male I met for a split second in my head while he was rushing, i assume away from somthing…

Dear Boy

A pack is on your back, and converse dress your toes. You looked scared and I can’t tell what for, but weary as you are…keep running till you get to where you’ve got to go.
what lies ahead in life remains unknown unless you go for it,wherever  you’re rushing to I hope it has purpose… something we need that contains passion and motivation to keep on.

Have you ever stared into someone’s eyes and assumed that they’d always be there no matter what? I have a habit of doing so imaging the words once we seperate be..

“The space that lies between us two living no matter how many oceans deep, my prescence be the face glued to a phone cord or pen and paper awaiting the many adventures we have yet to discover.”…And if you remember me I will never forget you.”

I wish the me imaging these words would wake up…sometimes And  its crazy, that I’m simply scribbling everything that has nothing to do with whom I’ve directed them to.

You. Whom I not able to recognize from the lanky legs to the red hair…to the unordinary position while hunched over ,with a worried look and no sense of direction … to the cheeks rosy from exhaustion, knees knocking, and heart pumping.

To the invisible breaths I know for sure you’re heaving in and out because no one is ever in shape now adays…to my brain that doesn’t always appreciate the thoughts roaming about…to this letter I’ve written to a stranger who knew nothing about…


Double post today sorry I was out:))

Warm winter…

The beaming rays are sure to project the brightness displayed underneath the cafeteria doors. Her smile fades as coaxed friends  turn sour and by breaking away the conflict. A peice of her heart flies away to mend the problems, unfalted. At least not the falt in herself did she see , as the blame lies on the person least affected by the issue.  Walking down the stair case. memories start to burn her fingertips through the hot rails of old times she begins to track back  faces of her past. .tripping on the orange peel left from months ago though not an orange peel at all…but an image of the day he spoke phrases she’d love, which is a lot to think about since, Bitterness visits the silence that passes by between the two and time can only tell when change will take place…so this is it… 

Its all behind us though the secrects of what was assumed to be love left..uncharted. Aimlessly mistaken as something that wasn’t.

when has this not happened? natural this action is called so,natural though the message you sent stays true to my mending heart…love is in the eyes not the heart, in the voice not the speech, in the effort not the results…. 

but now.

its warm outside and January and its freaking beaming like srping and All I wanted was cold, for the air to pass my pores with very  strong currents taking me farther than my mind is able to reach in heat. Although the mud points out the evident… warm winters turn hearts weak…as weak as the patient with no medicine who sits in the hospital bed waiting for care to make their souls match the pasty smile created with jello and hopes of feeling as alive as the people who play outisde the window. The locked window trapping so much light that can’t help but shine through this warm winter that cries poetry with every sunrise… except…this time the setting doesn’t match the emotion, and the emotion is inevitable no matter how many years the winter remains warm, the memories are in tact andthe naked   leaves on the trees of time yell the exact opposite of what is desired…

THANK YOU GUYS FOR READING I HOPE YOU ENJOY…I also enjoy reading your comments so if you do just a big thanks you guys for support, im trying my hardest to create enjoyable content, nit only for myself but my audience…but i appreciate all the support:))) write you next time;)

Baby steps….

Head up

Mouth open

Chin tilt

Mind free and accepting to anything swimming in the sea of swarming masterpeices not yet recognized…

Baby steps I told myself. Mouth open, water drips to the tile floor, I stare at myself. Tabla rosa my conscious screams, when’s my blank slate to start! Or am I just  deceiving  myself into believeing that a fresh start is what I need…

Nothing is easy, nor is recognizing that changing your atmosphere is what you need in life to gain happiness…or to just gain a since of self, or where you want to go.

“You’re mine…” 

I remember the suttle yet corrupt phrase like yesterday with rain, a mixture of must, and hot cheetos. The bus was yellow, he was yellow, my mind was mellow, and my heart was at the time. I didn’t know what I wanted in life…still don’t but the beat it carries now is less faint than it was back then…

Again mine…i smile and remember… we held hands, it was sweet but… mine.

My memory, his hand…

 Again, I couldn’t even figure what real intention lie behind what was said though , an 8th grade boy… really how much motive could there be? Seriously not even a real question but…

I look back  now and don’t want to believe I ever thought being called someone else’s was a good thing, especially when you don’t know who you are…at that age.

Where I’m going with this…I still don’t know…but, baby steps I thought to myself.  This is what came to me. 

Self don’t be stuck on stupid. There will be times where lonliness becomes your home to live in on endless days of nothing to do.And though Tis tempting, sleep is not your best friend. In some cases maybe but, a trap of leaving the real world instead of solving all your problems is a possibility not worth risking. You can not let sleep cave you into a tiny space of overthinking. Pursuit is wanting for you to work on yourself for once…to stop rehashing the past  becoming nothing more than dust bites and giftcards under the bathroom sink…



Cheeks aching

Aching for a sensation that never comes…Seven i was…seven

Soul shaking standing in the room listening to the word participating in what I know my faith lies in…you... I was three three four and five. I was all of them.

Breath taken I stood as profanity came out the mouth of those my age, what would cause such words of unappreciative meanings to dwindle in the wind to be whispered into an ear of innocence I was ten..

Heart wreching I sat waiting on a response from my best friend I told him my true feelings which he already had a clue, lets start over he said  the words nearly making my mouth tremor with fear,and there I sat having nothing to say or do…I was 11

From 12-14 the struggles are unmentionable, lies are slim but still evident as I discovered how puffy my cheeks had become over the years and the aches in my head would they ever stop and the slumber keeping me from falling into mood swings I felt wouldn’t stop…the smoke piling up to fill my lungs only to be washed out by the cool rain from which my lord pours down..I know he was listening to the prayers we spoke in undertones of needy cries…


I’m just fine. The problems have been resolved but the issues I’ve faced doesn’t make me feel any better when he tells me…” I don’t think me talking to you would make a difference.” 

Push out! push out! push out!

All I ever wanted was to silencethe lies that sliver between the teeth of what I felt was worth more than just a personality. But a soul, a living soul that has postive and negative attributes only trying to build and make life lighterfor those around to feel…But, I guess that was just me.

I’m not really affected by these things they just happened, most…im pretty sure all are true and have shaped me into how I think of others today, where my hesitiation lies and my personal views of life, im sure im a hypocrite about something in particular but am not willing to share which, I also don’t feel comfortable wih sharing translations so  plz no questions.

..thank you 

Her fingers flush from all the flinging in the air, palms piercing with sweat from all the contact with other skins like her, the glows coming from the globes of light projecting an illusion of hallucinations only one would daydream about, were left for citizens of sin to be drawn onto the floor. Where all the artist of movement, and talented street bums bump to the beats provided by the man who moves his hands in ways one would could only dream of. Sending the crowd into oblivion with such class he sits in the corner to wait until song dies down out of touch with what atmosphere he was living in. Due to the blazing passion eating him up inside starting with her. Eyeing the back to back shots until her cheeks rise with heat, he watches the destruction that occurs within her body starting with the way she moves, tripping on a stranger who took this incident as an invitation to his lips. One she didn’t refuse. Looking into the eyes of the lover whose burned a hole of emptiness down her throat. One would say she’s enjoying herself…she’s not. Hurting, there he stood in the little corner of 6 months. With all the rushes of nostalgia came beats from his mixes, and with every track she sang the lyrics that matched the tempo to her heart. They were both hurting inside only watching the other die away from afar.


All her desires are ones that hang far from touch. Oh but the embracful touch of his hand is oh so close and the temptation of clutch even closer. Leaving distance as the only obsatcle stopping either party from acting out on anything. No one knows her feeling..not even him but, the jewlery flashes ostentacious gems to be reflected back at the beasts who said she’d never be able to complete the tasks created just for her sake of lush and enjoyment. And the fools cry… the fools crynow  for  they’ve realized what a bright jewel they overlooked, what a bright person they never sought to seek anything in. 

“We fell for the ostentacious temptations that sit in the storefront waiting to be grappled like grapes on a vine and we show off what we have beacuse having what you once thought unaffordable is the best feeling ever.” 

But once you look back at all the buys you realize the actual factual beauty you saw in plastic dyed in “Amarillo”  the shade the sun takes on was just a lie into believing the exotic rush, the feeling you once felt was authentic.