Yeah,
it’s one of those
evenings
when reality
just doesn’t want to
cooperate

When you’ve given it
your all
and feel like there’s
nothing left but
to mourn

the pages lay
scattered about
like autumn leaves, only
with less value

At least the leaves
serve a purpose, don’t they?

while the pages you’ve
written…

The beer also tastes
like vomited sulfur 

You even forgot to
drag from the cigarette
you’ve just lit
and the ashes fall on your chest
and gift you with a small
burn mark

You curse a
little

Not knowing whom you’re
cursing

But then it hits you

You suddenly remember
that reality
is nothing more than
your own reflection on the
surface of life’s water

You give a little
laugh
followed by a sigh

Yeah,
there’s nothing left do
be done

It is time to
give up

Only,
not in a defeatist manner

Give up
the struggle to control

take a break

and let life
straighten itself out

You don’t have to
actually believe

Just to it
and be amazed at the
results

You’ll see

Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "it is time to give up"!

Check it out HERE!

Thank you!

Something wasn’t right
about him

I mean,
the guy was way too rich
and privileged
to have missing teeth

yet his mouth
opened like some rusty dungeon
gate

Every time they tried
to fix his teeth
he’d break them again

intentionally

with the claw of
a hammer
or with a rock when a hammer
wasn’t available

What a lad

He kept all those
rotten vegetables and fruits
and meats under his bed
and in drawers
just to feel the smell of
death
about him

Death was everything
to him

His god

His world

So it’s small wonder that
he eventually
met his idol
or rather
gave himself to it

at age 22
he weighed no more
than a 12 year old
but had the wisdom of
a 62 year old who’d made it
in life

and that’s apparently where
the problem lies

when the mind knows too
much about too many things
it grows interested only
in the supreme thing

Death

and eventually the
body follows

“Dying in a dream is
always followed by
waking up,” he used to say. “For the
mind doesn’t know
what to render in the dream
afterwards and crashes. The dream
ends. Whether it’s a dream or
a nightmare.
Death is the way out.”

He got out, alright.

First out the window
and then

as his body hit the pavement
below

out of this dream

In this moment
he is all over the place

in my writings
first
and in the reader’s mind
second

But it should be fine
since I did not
share his name, right?

Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "he’s all over the place"!

Check it out HERE!

Thank you!

"I was raised in a strict
Christian home," he said
as he poured
another glass of whiskey.
"That's why I turned atheist
right after
I left to be
on my own."

"At 18?" I asked

"Nope. At 24."

I liked the guy. He was somewhere in
his late fifties
looking forward to pensioning

worked as janitor
in an office building

and the reason they all
called him crazy was that
he swore
he saw someone in the
women's bathroom
right after closing time
as he went to clean

A female figure standing by
the mirror

she must've been real, he said,
because her presence activated
the sensor lights
in the room

It was a story I've heard
dozens of times

And I don't care how real it is

I believe him
because I want to

I want the story to be
real

Had he not
had a story like that to share
we wouldn't have been
friends today

"Wanna hear my advice?" I
asked him.
And without him saying anything
I went on. "Don't quit.
This job... is perfect. Trust me."

"I don't have much of an
alternative," he said

"Me neither," I said

Many thanks to LatinosUSA —English edition for featuring my poem, "don’t have much of an alternative"!

Check it out HERE!

Thank you!