POETRY
Tango
Sarah Deunay
Sarah Deunay
kiss me, hold me
soften me up
inject yourself into my veins
my heart pounding you
through my body
then cut me from the inside out
amarte duele
soften me up
inject yourself into my veins
my heart pounding you
through my body
then cut me from the inside out
amarte duele
he kissed you, held you,
his sweat, not mine
slid across your skin,
the knowledge infected
my head like fever,
making me sick,
you were already gone.
his sweat, not mine
slid across your skin,
the knowledge infected
my head like fever,
making me sick,
you were already gone.
your hands upon my skin
red fingertip trails left
beneath my jeans,
my tattoos, a banner that
I'm your doll to position,
pose me, use me, bring me bitter
to life
amarte duele.
red fingertip trails left
beneath my jeans,
my tattoos, a banner that
I'm your doll to position,
pose me, use me, bring me bitter
to life
amarte duele.
your bruises match mine
your hand closed your heart
hard in a fist
struck at me
in anger or apathy
that you never voiced
you have already gone.
your hand closed your heart
hard in a fist
struck at me
in anger or apathy
that you never voiced
you have already gone.
punish me for my love
you are always the executioner,
and not for the first time
I told you,
Then Went to sleep, cold in the heat,
but I will be here and the morning and
still,
amarte duele.
you are always the executioner,
and not for the first time
I told you,
Then Went to sleep, cold in the heat,
but I will be here and the morning and
still,
amarte duele.
your body is here,
desire in your smile
but not in your eyes
blowing away with the wind,
the harder I grasp
the less I can grip
you are already gone.
desire in your smile
but not in your eyes
blowing away with the wind,
the harder I grasp
the less I can grip
you are already gone.
but you haven't left yet.
amarte duele
amarte duele
PROSE
Cigarette
Frank Benitez
Frank Benitez
Up until I stepped out of the house, I thought I was going to die. My head was spinning and my lungs felt as if they were hard bricks being squeezed dry. Life was pure hell, and the house was loud as f---, and when I stepped outside it was like an escape from my hot, sweaty house filled with lust and artificial smiles which were all a result from a night of smoking amazing pot.
I stood outside, the cold air drying my moist face, with a cigarette and a beautiful woman.
As soon as I lit the cigarette and we began to converse, I was in love. Not love with the girl, nor my Camel light, but in love with the moment. It was a love for not life, but for reality. I was in love with the warm smoke going into my lungs, the cold air hitting my clammy face, the occasional roars of laughter coming from my house. I was in love with how sh---y I looked, which if I remember correctly, could be described as a train wreck. But I loved it, and I loved it all, because it was reality.
It was the realization that no matter how terribly unattractive I was, not matter what deep sh-- I could fall into at any moment, that no matter anything, I was alive, and I was living life. And I owe it all to a cigarette and a little bit of soothing, gentle conversation.
Life is not about living from point A to point B. The night should not just have a beginning, and it should not just culminate at once. We shouldn't work for these single moments of pleasure, grandeur, they should come to us. I want to live from moment to moment, because when we guide ourselves towards living life, we ignore these little moments where everything is just so perfect, and we end up missing the greatest part about life. There is so much more to life than to just living until we accomplish something. We will never get those moments back, ever. They're done. You'll never have that one second to look at the city and breathe, to feel the the the night, to look up upon the moon and feel like you're alive in this world as you step out of the car to swap seats. It's all so quick and easy, but we choose to ignore it because we have something to do. I'll never have that time back, that time around ten thirty Saturday night, but I'm glad I spent them in the perfect way.
It's not about the chicks, the pot, the cars, the money, what the transcript says, what the acceptance letters say, what financial aid is received, the fit of a pair of jeans, a brand on a shirt, the music that is being listened to, because all of that distracts us from living, from feeling. This is reality. It's not glamorous, no; it's far from it. There's nothing glamorous about smoking a cigarette while you're way too f---ed up fro your own good. Smoking anything is terribly disgusting, but it's one life, and concentrate on life.
Life shouldn't be a movie. It shouldn't be some great, amazing experience we all share and go through. Life should be a collection of still frames, every frame with its own unique composition; its own unique beauty. I want my life to always be beautiful, whether it be in breakdown, in ecstasy, in love or in death. I want my life to be dictated by a single moment, not by life.
I stood outside, the cold air drying my moist face, with a cigarette and a beautiful woman.
As soon as I lit the cigarette and we began to converse, I was in love. Not love with the girl, nor my Camel light, but in love with the moment. It was a love for not life, but for reality. I was in love with the warm smoke going into my lungs, the cold air hitting my clammy face, the occasional roars of laughter coming from my house. I was in love with how sh---y I looked, which if I remember correctly, could be described as a train wreck. But I loved it, and I loved it all, because it was reality.
It was the realization that no matter how terribly unattractive I was, not matter what deep sh-- I could fall into at any moment, that no matter anything, I was alive, and I was living life. And I owe it all to a cigarette and a little bit of soothing, gentle conversation.
Life is not about living from point A to point B. The night should not just have a beginning, and it should not just culminate at once. We shouldn't work for these single moments of pleasure, grandeur, they should come to us. I want to live from moment to moment, because when we guide ourselves towards living life, we ignore these little moments where everything is just so perfect, and we end up missing the greatest part about life. There is so much more to life than to just living until we accomplish something. We will never get those moments back, ever. They're done. You'll never have that one second to look at the city and breathe, to feel the the the night, to look up upon the moon and feel like you're alive in this world as you step out of the car to swap seats. It's all so quick and easy, but we choose to ignore it because we have something to do. I'll never have that time back, that time around ten thirty Saturday night, but I'm glad I spent them in the perfect way.
It's not about the chicks, the pot, the cars, the money, what the transcript says, what the acceptance letters say, what financial aid is received, the fit of a pair of jeans, a brand on a shirt, the music that is being listened to, because all of that distracts us from living, from feeling. This is reality. It's not glamorous, no; it's far from it. There's nothing glamorous about smoking a cigarette while you're way too f---ed up fro your own good. Smoking anything is terribly disgusting, but it's one life, and concentrate on life.
Life shouldn't be a movie. It shouldn't be some great, amazing experience we all share and go through. Life should be a collection of still frames, every frame with its own unique composition; its own unique beauty. I want my life to always be beautiful, whether it be in breakdown, in ecstasy, in love or in death. I want my life to be dictated by a single moment, not by life.