Playing with pain

My thoughts seem to be running away today. I’m stretching my arm out and… let’s see… I got one.
It’s one of my thoughts. Sorry. You are going to stay with me for awhile longer.

Pain seems to sharpen with the passing of seconds.
Is it the time that hurts or just me?
I think it’s the most outer layer of me.
I’m good inside, I can still feel warm.

The pain returns and tries to penetrate deeper.
I stop it and throw it away. How rude!
It didn’t even ask if I’m willing to take it in.
Well, I’m not. Next time, it should ask.

I’m sending my heat on this trip. It’s a long journey,
but it will make it.
It needs to get to the outside and warm up my eyes.
Should be easy, I have faith in my heart.

Meanwhile, I’ll just sit here and wait…

Prayer

Give me strength from your hands.
Give me a breath of air from your eyes.
Please, give me everything you had at the beginnings.
Then, turn me into stone
Turn me into a green rock,
and into a green woman.
Turn me into your tree, and take my leaves.
Uproot me, and build me up into a wall.
Water me. Water me with heavy rain,
with water heavier then the emptiness within.
Reborn me from the crumbles of green rock,
and leaves, and roots.
Then, I will be. Re-give me to you,
and I will be… a soul in the sun.
I will always whisper:
Love, you… you…

Life

At the beginning there is pleasure,
and desire, love, passion and… two…
Then, there is a welcome scream
and curiosity, struggle, laugh and… one or … three…
Then, running, falling, rising, flying,
falling, running, searching, knowledge,
and… one…
It all becomes heart, love, knowledge again, pleasure,
and desire, love, and…two…
Then one… and another…
And another.
Slipping away and struggle, trying to hold on, and
Impossibility.
There is black or light. Pain or peace.
Who really knows what it is?
It could be passing on.
At the end, there is beginning.
At the beginning there is pleasure,
and desire, and…

Algebra

I used to like to graph functions.
I liked the surprise I felt with each touch of the pencil on paper.
Straight lines climbing towards infinity.
Curved lines approaching that asymptotic line which seemed to appear
all of the sudden in the middle of the page.
I was fascinated with that reaching without actually touching.
Never actually achieving. How did the lines really feel?
There was great sadness too in those graphs…

Riding the ride

I feel the tears of not being falling inside me.
I feel myself smashing against words and thoughts.
The vowels scratch me. They are so easy to say, but so difficult to caress…
Is it day or night? Is this light? Is it really me?
I turn around and I see myself looking at me.
I stretch my hand so I can get over memories.
I stop and realize that I am just a memory.
I am a forgotten page in a book with lots of pages.
People.

My thoughts hurt. My hidden thoughts, your unsaid thoughts,
buried in the deepness of other thoughts.
My mind embraces them, empties them of all meaning and feeling,
transforms them into black letters on a white wall and then,
into words more black and more empty.
I’m better, right? The words have passed…