1.25

They sit at the bus stop and they wait with their bags.

Three bags.

Five bags.

Bags with wheels, dusty wheels, rolled miles down the dirty LA streets.

Tired bags that slump out their fat sides, lazily protruding out the contents.

He sits there waiting, bags surrounded by flies. Shoes broken at the sole, torn. Toes shamelessly sticking out, thick with callouses.

The bus comes, headed to Pasadena.
The bus comes headed to Santa Monica.
San Fernando. Van Nuys. Topenga.
                    Torrance.
                              Long Beach.
                                         Burbank.

 He stays, counting aloud the the sweaty coins in his sweaty hands. Using his blackened index finger to scoot each coin from his palm.
He has that 1.25.

He has it in his hands.

He counts

Ninety five.
            One oh five.
                          One twenty five.  

Can get him out of Hollywood. Away from the piss-stained stars.

Escape for a moment.

But he only looks up from his busy face, bites his inner lips at a pulsing speed, and breathes out.

The bus flutters away without hesitation, exhaust steaming his chilled face.

Only to wait for the next bus,

And the next.

And the next.

Until the rodents peek their pink noses.

Until LAPD pass out their final DUI.
Until sirens cease their urgent squeals.

Until the sun glares over the Hollywood hills.

Holding still to the 1.25.

Picture taken in Los Angeles, CA

Tonight

Tonight let's fly
Dance and float under a wailing sky
Tonight we'll hide in a barren cave
And passionately sweat our woes away
Tonight plant a lasting kiss,
against my trembling lips
Whispering love on a crowded porch,
holding my hips
Tonight let's plan a romantic scene
A Shakespearean stage where our hearts can dream
And your thirst for me can no longer wait
You gallantly halt me at the airport gate
Let's forget of tomorrow's rising light
And focus on this never ending tonight

Picture taken in Los Angeles, CA

repression of a perpetual dream

I dream of ferris wheels and roller coasters. powdered sugar over deep fried treats. i walk along with a happy song stuck.
stuck.
in my head.
life is comfortably recognizable. but the sky is so foreign.
the strawberry
plum
banana
swirl above my head flickers with a battle of shooting stars.
i snap a picture. jot it down.
i need.
need
more than a blurring memory to take home to reality. and i run quickly,
in hopes of a perpetual dream.
but then i fall.
incapacitated.
the moment fades. i awake to a realistic dimension.
without pictures. without sketches. another dream permanently repressed.
forgotten.

Picture taken Irvine, CA

Praise be to the morning glories
who unfurl and bloom each day
rain or shine they rise their heads
to the sky,
above
and above

and above this withered land.

Picture taken in North Hollywood, CA

Mumbles of Desire

His words drift through the phone
goodbyes spoken out of mere habit
a voice once so much with life now
an eager ambition,
a tireless hope.
She hears a lack of smile. A nervous, pleading laugh,
fading.
A vacant list of words streaming through her receiver, an unconvincing tone. She holds the phone closer,
warmth running down her cheek,
silence vibrating through her ears, her brain, her nerves.
Holding on to that last syllable before ending the call, she breathes out a goodbye.
Is there more? she thinks.
There is an infinite amount of MORE, his sigh replies.
She listens carefully to his mumbles of desire.
Listening. Listening.
A restless pause, her cue to click off. Loss of connection. She senses the silent plea for normalcy. For a goodbye to be a goodbye rather than a question,
a hesitant stutter.
For the change to revert as quickly as it hit.
A simple snap.
A rapid crack.
But she knows pleasant goodbyes are non-existent.
She smiles for him.

Picture taken in Tucson, AZ

Sprinklers on at 2am, cool chill breezes into my room.

And he laughed a ridiculous laugh from two doors away.
Noisily opening each window, giggling at a rapid speed
alone in the dark
And in a sudden second the laughter snapped to a gasp,
still silence.
a dreadful pause.
footsteps pounded into my room
Heavy and loud, each quick stomp pained my sleeping body.
I winced.
He ran to my bedside, breathing heavily. I could feel his heat, his fear, his heartbeat.
The agonizing realization,
The dreaded moment was here.
something was coming
quick.
unprepared, cornered.
we sat and waited, for there was nothing else we could do
but let it come.

withering garden by 2pm,
hot air suffocating an open highway.
nightmares seep into reality.

Picture taken at Ronald McDonald House in Tucson, AZ

Ode to A Silent Serenade - Ten Years of Fallen Love

Ready to shut the door to my heart and focus on myself. But may I close with a letter to ten years of love and loss.

Dear V,

I hope you're still alive. Careless adolescence, our deciduous love never to survive. Overly dramatic we were. Dark and depressed.

Dear K,

Laying on the floor, completely oblivious to the spinning world. You. Fell asleep swimming into the deepest depths of your eyes. Forever to regret not holding tighter, not clenching on to your soul with all my strength. You slipped away by morning. In the midst of my mourning. I opened my fist to find mere beads of perspiration. Empty.

Dear downtown shadowed light,

My mentor, my teacher, my gallant knight. You lifted, mended my gutted soul. Graceful and temperate. With patience and consistent smiles. Thank you for waiting. listening. guiding. You helped me fly.

Dear S,

My comfort, my energy, my wall. Reconstructed the topography of this ruptured heart. My Tylenol. You held tight as I kicked and screamed. Banged and smashed. Allowed me to breathe, grow. Such a tactful revenge as your ardor dimmed. Uncompromising, unwilling. Shut off.

Dear H,

I apologise for the rejection. Lack of love, my disconnection. I apologise for crushing our future to run deep into a dream. Still, I read every letter. Every poem.

Dear W,

Precarious and sure, I foolishly followed your chivalrous lure. A perfect match as our bodies dissolved into one. Surreal. But this mystical and staggering dream backlashed into the foreshadowed nightmare. Dissolution. Woke up from a nonsensical state of mind, facing the heartbreaking reality. Deceptive love.

Picture taken in Cartagena, Colombia

Listen, believe. Conform and Follow. Devote each day to faith alone - reality is non-negotiable. Painful and ruthless. Unforgivable.
Hold on! Injustice will blow the soul away.
Bow down! To an intangible sense of security.
Listen. Listen and hear a sweet nothing in your ear.
Believe. Silent whispers.

Picture taken on Hollywood Blvd in California

"Long has paled that sunny sky:

Echoes fade and memories die:

Autumn frosts have slain July.

In a Wonderland they lie,

Dreaming as the days go by,

Dreaming as the summers die:

Ever drifting down the stream --

Lingering in the golden gleam --

Life what is it but a dream?" -Lewis Carroll

Picture taken in Parque Tyrona, Colombia

Welcome to my state of mind. A vivid encounter with my conscience self.
Where dreams and reality mesh together in a confusing swirl,
Where thoughts, memories, and future aspirations collide.
Truthful and confused, yet simple with a complexity that not even I can comprehend.
Where extremities of a bi-polar-like sense of brain destruction
and a sweet stillness of delightful meditation
interlock and chat over a cup of tea.
Such a lushful and lustful waste of a mind
swimming through the unknown,
and swirling deeper into a drain of despair.
Welcome.

Picture taken in Disneyland, California

it's the end of the world, and so they say. it's about that time
for insanity and swine, for planets to align.
waves and quakes, we are deliriously doomed. for heavens, for gods, for all of humanity sakes!
oh, but how we love to fear. of leaning on the brink of death. to stand so viciously near.
and when it's all over and we are still around, we can proclaim, without such shame,
in a pathetic smirk, "we survived. thank you, jesus,
we survived."
how mechanical we are.
how utterly deprived.

Picture taken downtown Los Angles, California

flight

Within the darkened bedroom, he lay there asleep. Rain fell outside the window. Rain fell inside her soul. The storm hummed loudly, pounding against the walls of her mind. The lighting stung the tangled nerves beneath her fragile skin. His breathing became heavier, his sleeping deeper.
She watched wide-eyed at the tall, grey ceiling, alone in the cold room.
Alone near his cold body.
Dampness overwhelmed the covers. She watched the storm come inside, unwelcomed. Bursting through the windows, swirling above the bed, pouring out every bit of it's sorrow, her face numbing with every accumulative drop. Still, her eyes never blinked.
And so, it wept and wept above her, screaming, pleading, wailing. His breathing became unbearably louder. The rain nearly drowning, suffocating her.
Water flowed below the bed and across the room. She stepped onto the concrete floor, her feet soaking in the chilled water. Slowly, heavily, she moved herself through the water now to her knees, and walked out of the room, into warm winds. Where the clouds began to part.
And she breathed new air.
Where are you going, he asked, hardly wakening, eyes closed. His back to her now.
To the sun, she said. And she flew away.

-inspired by a dream the week prior to leaving london, mirroring my life at that moment in time.

Picture taken in Gibraltar, UK

summer magic

05 jan 2009
we were driving, my dad and i. it was dark, nothing around, and suddenly he stopped at a gas pump. all was black and dark except the gas pump. i was outside with him, and he stopped and asked me if i was okay. are you alright? yes, i said unsure. no, are you alright? is everything okay? and i woke up
i can see clearly, it wasn't worth the tears. we held on to something that was only a summer long gleam of light. because magic happens in the summer. when the wind comes, the cold rushes in, the suntan fades and the sandals are pushed far away into the closet...the spell is broken. the moment fades, the magic is lost. poof. and all that is left is the cold and momentary whispers of memories. the sparkles of his eyes that gleamed into mine dimmed, as did our love, as did the beating heart for each other. if life was but an "endless summer" then we wouldn't have the winter, the fall, the spring, to think and rejuvenate our souls. to ready ourselves for more magic to appear. better, more extravagant powers to come our way. new. but we also wouldn't have that time to mourn over the summer past. the magic that set beneath the ocean, never to rise again.

Picture taken in Canoa, Ecuador