Bottled

I did something today.
I made today different.
'I moved the furniture,' I say.
I pushed that heavy bed to vent.

Streaked across my tile floor
Wet drops of much fervor
Made sliding the desk up to the door
I little less of a chore.

I did something today.
I made it different.
Even though like a child I wanted to flay,
I sucked it up and with a smile I said the opposite of what I meant.

Drie

Did you know I laugh compulsively?
That I can't stop a single smirk, or smile from surfacing?
That my smiles split my face painfully wide?

I think I said it...
Perhaps I mumbled it...
Or meant to say it...

Did you know I once cried daily?
That I was easily hurt?
And that one day I just woke up not knowing how to cry?

I've though about that day a lot.
Silently musing and biding my time,
Waiting for the morning I wake up, unable to smile.

From the Chans

Unlikely it is
When first time or e'er to have
Fantasy porn sex

-Anon


[I found on a Chan board and I thought it was awesome]

El Techo - The Ceiling

Me dicen que debo de ser mejor
Que debo de ser mas
Debo de ser humano
Ser hombre.

Sucede que me canco de ser hombre
Me canso de ser el que vas mas aya
El que sube pasando lo que no debo ser

Solo puedo subir tanto antes que tope con el Techo.

----

I'm told that I should be better
That I should be more
I should be human
Be a man.

It would happen to be that I tire of being a man.
I tire of being the one that goes beyond
The one rises above what I should not be.

I can only rise so much before I hit the ceiling




I decided anything I write in Spanish I'm going to translate because I've been thinking in Spanish more often than not.

Dire

Los acontecimeintos me rechazan.

Los hechos me cazan.

Sucede que me canso de ser hombre

En una exsistencia fria,
sombria.
Una exsistencia que no es mia.

Aye

I stand in the center of coincidence .
I am the epitome of chance.
I exist as pair of ill-fated dice.

We deal with men and mice.
Most of the time we choose not to slice,
Because just letting it go will suffice.

Unfortunately now I sit on a pillar of ice,
My feet dangling in the air heavy with spice.
The taste of recent happenings have been anything but nice.
My very self, my only self has suffered a splice-

Di-ced-
Ser-ved wit-h rice-
Sweet smells only en-ti-ce
The W-e without ey-es

Later

There is a Post-it on my desk.

It's been sitting there for quite some time now.

I can't throw it away.

I can't remove it.

I can't hide it behind a book.

I can't lose it.

Better said,

I won't do any of the mentioned.

I want to burn it.

Tear it in half.

Shred the vile sight.

That yellow slip must go

Before I begin to Tear.

There is a Post-it on my desk.

It's not staying there for long.