What day is it? I can’t remember it . This post will need a title when I’m done. Something simple like the date because this new year, 2017, I am promising myself to write more. I’m leaving it out there in the World Wide Web. In hopes it reaches someone. Similar to life where we as the general humans we are, wish to be heard or read . We wish to be attended to, generals of a spot eyes flock to , yes sir, we wish we commanded what we wished. I write for me and generalize about everyone else. Happy new year world. I am unhappy in the current position I am in. In life I am 27 years old still living a child’s life with my parents. In death I am forever 15 living the greatest passion 3 of my lifetimes have ever known with a beautifully arranged school uniform wearing big tits having skinny Puerto Rican named Yasmin Rodriguez. Rodriguez being my last name as well I thought it meant to be. No she’s not my cousin or sister or any stereotypical hot story on porn sites and theatre plays. We were secrets to each others family which only added to the forbidden fruit we eventually gave to each other. I think about my past at times like a sad soul tortured by knowledge of knowing his own past death in the next life. Here I am again reborn in 2017. Yet kept with me are the memories of all the gardens I’ve been in and all the trees I’ve climbed and all the branches I’ve swung from. And what you must understand is that for an ape like me all I have are those beautiful jungles I called home but many times and only once.
It was a morning parallel to the similarity no one wanted in life. Afternoon arrived pregnant in disappointment . Actions slept the whole day. I am a filthy boy. Wish I could do things to you that make you yell in pleasure. I don’t have the courage to write you and say hello I need you to know I go insane without talking to you. You are as much part of my days as my clothes. To be vulnerable with you scares me. But I’d do it to the rhythms of my heartbeats. If life wasn’t in the way. So I choose this solitude for hope in meeting you in the future as a better me. One that can give things that you deserve to have or at least continue the things you are used to. Fiction would love our story if we were characters in a book I’ll write you well. I’ll write you in love I’d write you happy with all your dreams come true. In reality All my intellect can’t stop losing you. But in fiction, I would write you as royalty. You’d be a princess looking for a charmer man to put your shoes on. You’d have every gentleman after you of course because you’d be the most beautiful woman in all the world. But you wouldn’t choose them you’d choose me a farmer’s son . Because we met by chance in the rain by the town. The rest was a feeling in our hearts that never let go. And we would sneak out of our lives to be together. Under the shadow of a banyan tree the same we carved our names in. We’d be together under a waterfall let the fish watch us kiss. We’d be next to a lake with lily pads in full display. Surrounded by rocks. Inside a barnyard in a bed of hay. We would whisper at each other be with me forever.
Music suffers imprisoned within skin. Confined to my body. Felt like dancing to shame the outward pain speaking to my insides. Intruders can’t seem to strategize my demise fast enough. I wish a blanket would come and fake my stay. Mother I worry how much you worry for me.lets Stop transforming my worries into 3rd person points of views. Life should be lived with the best seat in the house not with the view of one. Death beds are real, my entire life has been a preparation for one. Silence is the passion the world needs. New York City has never been more passionate than in the dark. It hugs all it holds within the night. Through the truth of life , one could never find, I wish to experience all things in moderation. By my sexual nature to smell the air the juice of the streets the wetness of the trees, excited by the sun and change of weather. We wish we were wilder . Wind on water present in the woods. Disturbing the wax welcome the wealthy weak invited. The fear it spoke of, wasted the charm of the whispered vows we wowed ourselves believing. Although love graced us once the funk of it stung future attempts to connect. Contributed corruptible actions attracted to turbulent language loved by benevolent ideas idolized for their handmade heroic nature to sacrifice. Be brave not languid voiced the hypocrite covered in cotton. The mouth of the mind well rehearsed in practice. Bed made for a corpulent child far from maturing. Maturity is getting over the need for approval. Maturity was the age of blood, hair and height and baritone lungs.and all this was nothing more than the mathematics of life.
There were five people in a movie theatre dressed in black David, Margaret, Chanell, Qwintashia, and I Trying to find the best ways to waste time Tetris failed at a game of boredom human bodies stacked impatience in their minds and watched it fly. Uniformity causes the pain of talking the bastard English language on a Thursday afternoon, Thursday Afternoon went by like the trite slow walking animal with a weight on its back failing at forward progress I was born on a Thursday Afternoon randomly I hold on to this like a lover Oh you Thursday Afternoon. You Trite lover! thoughts of you helps me get through this trite life I chose to vulgar in. Fuck! Pussy! Cock! I read beautiful straightforward words when I said “what are you going to be when you grow up” he replied tritely contritely “I don’t know” when I said, something I can’t remember, he answered, “I write poems” When I said, “let me read them” When he said, “wordpress” when he wrote on my iPhone 6s, forgetmywordsornot.wordpress.com i read beautiful straightforward words ironically not in a situation that felt the exciting speedy progression of forward. I read beautifully straight forward words. from a man I thought was gay I read beautiful straightforward words and I thought tritely contritely “why not me” I think I’m gay sometimes the sight of penis makes me salivate sometimes. am I david? did I make him up? is this that scene from the movie Fight Club? how exciting! oh yes spoiler alert, to the entertainers of fiction. co-worker inspiration mentioned to be a man of Jesus, David, I am david but not the bible kind. I gave up such pursuits when Satan came and became my friend at the edge of fire and brimstone and said like a well spoken monk, “son be quite, be silent, be still”. Boom! Television blasted my tomb, I was in She’s All That! I was Freddy Prince Jr. and a Hacky Sack. I am now a liar feeling like I have been caught! I think I got the reference wrong! the memory of that film is strapped trapped at the prefrontal cortex of my wrap of sights and secrets.shh. ready to shoot at any moment because it is my second amendment right to carry a gun and be safe at all times! I am safe all the time,desperately desperately safe all the time! I am so desperate to hate myself at the drop of a Facebook post or any random commercial that yells ” you need this, you want this,” and I do! somewhere in the past I failed to know myself! like right there just now just when I said that. I do need all the things I do not have! David you are a commercial! Commerical you inspire me! yes! why not me! why not my dreams my fantasies! Why not everything but this reality! I am bored! are you my hero, save me from this wretched comfortability David! david! I need you! to save me! how will I do anything without you! Friend!