A Cigarette Tale.

Long ago, before you or I were born, there was a lady with a powerful gift,

she could interact with demons. She had the ability to see them and to talk to them.

Many townsfolk believed she was the daughter of The Devil.

God was bereft at how a common woman possessed such a "gift", and decided to unleash His wrath on her. The woman suffered every time she spoke with a demon. There came a point in which she actually prayed to the Being that was the cause of her suffering. The poor soul asked what she had done to deserve such anguish.

God told her that she was a human being. That she couldn't dwell with demons, beings of darkness, beings of Hell. In other words, she was asked to repent.

But how could she repent? After all, she was born with that gift; you can't get rid of something that's second nature... She found the answer.

Every time she approached a demon, she harnessed their energy and rolled it in a piece of paper. Afterwards, she lit the paper on fire and breathed. When she exhaled the smoke, that demon was sent to Heaven to receive its punishment.

That is an old tale about the origin of cigarettes.

A Moment of Peace (November 9, 2015)

Every time I smoke a cigarette,
it makes me think of you,
the times you told me to quit my bad habit,
and then joined, shared it with me too.

Every time I have a drink,
it makes me think of you,
it helped you numb the pain you felt,
it made it easier on me too.

Every time I write a poem,
it makes me think of you,
I remember how much you loved my words,
and how I loved making them for you.

Every time I meet someone new,
it makes me think of you<
I remember how you despised me at first,
like of my demons do.

Every time I think of me,
I also think of you,
'cause you're so deep in my bones,
and I'm also on yours,
and I sit to reflect,
on how to deal with a half of me,
that I barely know anymore...

I crave a moment of peace.

A Conversation (September 6, 2016)

There are times when we humans feel exhausted. Don't get me wrong, the word is not used in the physical sense only; my thoughts are exhausting, my brain is exhausted, romance is exhausting, therefore my heart is exhausted and so on...

That's why I was so glad to have a heartfelt conversation in a world that I find so exhausting. I had seen this girl a while back and I was oh-so-afraid to talk to her, yet, (by some strange miracle) I was able to muster the courage necessary. I introduced myself and to my upmost pleasure, she liked my name. Thinking myself clever, I worked up a far-fetched excuse to break the ice; but I soon found out that extraordinary measures wouldn't be necessary, because she was the greatest type of simple. We went to talk about different things, but mostly we talked about art.

I  w a s  b e r e f t .

As she rambled on, I began to notice that she was living, breathing art, to the point I had to thank God for this seemingly divine intervention because it lifted my spirits after my recurrent exhaustion. It made me pick up a pen and write about it (and in the slump I've been as of late, that's saying quite something). That simple exchange of ideas is now a memory I treasure fondly.

Now I'm  a believer in the power of a conversation.

Symbiosis (January 3, 2015)

It's half past midnight,
my favourite time lapse of the day,
where my sorrows and ideas take flight,
and I see my shadow, it wishes to stay.

I lay at the same spot I felt love's embrace,
as cold winds caressed my face,
now in this same spot I lay,
thinking about the things I should've said.

I look at the sky,
and see the Moon, alone as I,
we are some thousand miles away,
yet she knows I love her, so that's okay.

I sit in my chair and think of the past,
and the thoughts of relations not build to last,
it was not for lack of a try,
just that Fate decided for it to go awry.

This place brings me memories,
those that aren't cause for celebrity,
they have to do with Distance and TIme,
and the sudden demise of my shallow pride.

Alas, I feel at lasting peace,
smooth as the winter breeze,
I've had space to reflect,
to observe and detect,
I think I needed to feel lonely,
to reach this perfect, absolute symbiosis.

Crash (March 19, 2015)

It's been a month since we last spoke,
and ever since, well... Life goes on.

It hasn't been easy,
as I knew it wouldn't be,
but I've done my peace,
and you've done well to move on.

And since then I've taken a liking on driving,
it's the only thing that keeps me at ease,
and in my mind, fifty times I crash,
and life clings to me like a disease.

And when I wake I feel numb,
never seeming to hear a sound,
many may think of me as dumb,
but they don't understand what I carry around.

And so, my Momma told me to channel what I feel,
yet I can't do so without shedding a tear,
so instead of breathing air, I choke on ash,
waiting for the next time I decide to crash.

After Midnight (July 16, 2015)

It's already after midnight,
and in my mind I see you again.
'Cause all the fun we ever had,
happened around this time.

Now, since I lost you,
(or better said)
let go of you,
I see your face,
forevermore on my mirror.

Because you and I are the same,
and it just took me missing my other half,
for all of it to make sense.

What A Time To Be Alive.

From the moment your pupils start to examine your surroundings,
to the instant you close your eyes to rest,
one should think and say:
"What a time to be alive."

When one is on the brink,
of life, of death, or something in between,
one should think and say:
"What a time to be alive."

On those trying times,
where you face the meaning of yuxtaposition,
when you feel as though you will be split apart,
or when someone tries to mend you back together,
one should think and say:
"What a time to be alive."

When you talk to someone who understands you,
when, out of nowhere, they came to your aid,
when, by a lucky twist of fate, you were not alone anymore,
one must cherish that opportunity,
one must be grateful for the soul who complemented ours, one must make sure to repay them,
and, as always,
one should think and say:
"What a time to be alive."

When you sit to slow down your fast-paced routine,
and look at the clouds, the sun, the stars or the moon,
when you contemplate the meaning of your existence,
and you feel you could just drift into nothingness,
one should think and say:
"What a time to be alive."

On those moments that you hate,
as a result of a love that burst out of control,
on the times that you suffer,
as a result of life teaching you a lesson,
one should think and say:
"What a time to be alive."

When you dwell in those little pieces of Heaven,
of enjoying a good read, listening to your favourite song or watching the most incredible film,
one should think and say:
"What a time to be alive."

When you fall into the deepest circle of Hell,
when you're broken, you're hurting, you greet the darkness inside you,
one must cherish that anguish, for it will make you better,
and, as always,
one should think and say:
"What a time to be alive."

And what a time it is to be alive,
even though at times it doesn't seem like it,
even though we feel that the hardships will never cease,
when we think the bad outweighs the good,
or vice versa,
when we thoroughly enjoy our existence,
but we forget to remain humble and be grateful,
when the fire of a thousand suns burns inside us,
yet we try to extinguish someone else's flame,
we must re-evaluate the life we lead,
because it's almost certainly the only one we're going to get,
one must look at every day as a gift and an adventure,
and one should think and say:
"What a time to be alive."