My Path: Unseen

Sunshine and daises.

I will never see again.

Total dark for me.

Lost is my fate now.

No more light ahead of me.

Only black I see.

My choice: Surgery.

Will it work? I have no clue.

My path is unseen.



My heart is the –

Weeping river –

Traveling through rapids

And the harsh life –

Until it reaches –

The waterfall of death.

My love for you

Is the high tide

On a rocky beach

Which is not strong enough

To erode away the assuming –

And cold boulders surrounding

Your heart.

My life is not an open book,

But loose pages

Scattered across

The four corners of your world.

Some are near…

But others are out of grasp.


Hanging loosely on the wall.

Every day there for all.

Walk up to it for a peak.

Shining back, pale and meek.

See yourself in its rims.

Your reflection grins.

For this is not you,

But what is true.

Deep desires locked away.

All come out to play.

Reveal themselves to the world.

Nature of heart is swirled.

Molded to show

What you wish to not know.

Monstrosity and sin

Is what you have been.

Hide it all from your friends

Family and all that bends.

But you can’t deny what’s true

This is the real you.



As I walk down the hallway,

I notice there is many things to see.

If I look into the eyes of others

I will see what they wish no one else to see…

As I think back on my life,

I have heard evil.

I have seen evil.

I have done evil.

Spoke it; dreamed it;

Wished it; even more!

It is all around me…

… It is in me…

Some people like to share…

Some like to care…

Some like to experiment…

Some don’t even dare.

If you look at me, what do you see?

A shy smile; a modest form;

A soft voice; a pink blush…

Yet is it real?

Don’t ask me.

I won’t tell.

I can’t tell,

For I don’t know myself…

Am I so good at

Hiding my feelings that

No one will ever believe

That This is how I am?

Am I a sheep in

Wolf’s clothing,

Or is it the other

Way around?

I know how I can be…

It is so easy…

To let it all out,

And ruin it all.

If I do snap

And not turn back…

…Will I change


I am tied…

I am bound…

I’m on the floor…

…To lure you in.

You see me,

Helpless and scared.

Your hand reaches to help,

Then I smirk and chain you there.

It’s all a trick!

It’s all a lie!

I am sick!

I am deprived…

You are shocked.

You ask why.

I bound you more.

“You are mine.”

I have my way.

You have no choice.

You are my pet.

I am torn.

I don’t want to hurt you!

But I love to see blood…

I don’t want to hurt you!

But I love to see tears…

I am sick! I am sick!

How can I think that way?!

I will release you… but

… Will you stay?

I can be loving.

I can be caring.

I can be submissive.

Will you help me?

I have calmed.

I am at peace.

But I may snap again…

…Don’t leave, please.

I can be controlling.

I can be obedient.

I can be sadistic.

I can be healing.

I am two.

Not one.

I love it both!

I can’t choose at all.

If you like soft,

But not demanding.

If you like it rough,

But not sweet.

You are not for me.

You buy one

You get the other.

Like an Airheads Extreme.

Prayer for the Mute

I’m sorry I’m not perfect.

I’m sorry I can’t give you everything.

I’m sorry I can’t be there all of the time.

But most of all, I’m sorry I ever

Tried anything for you…

Crystalline drops of sorrow and rage

Forever flow until there is

The bitter and cold emptiness

Inside with nothing to

Replace what has been lost…

The pit is near and once one

Jumps there’s no turning back.

What awaits at the bottom?

Death or solitude?

Time to make a choice: face truth or run?

Fall Forever.

Won’t sing or breath is stolen.

All is calm as the wind caresses ones soul.

Can only wait for the soil

And listen to songs of everyone on the ledge watching.

If I Ruled the World…

“…Every man would be slaves and every woman would be belly dancers.” This is the line I pitched to my closest friend when we were in our first years of college. Both of us were stressed about our individual classes at UTPA as well as our immediate lives and situation. For years, we’ve calmed down and distracted each other with ideas for stories. Most fell down the drain, but not that day. “If we ruled the world, every man would be a slave and every woman would be a belly dancer.”


As our laughs mingled something stuck. What kind a world would it have to be in which almost every person was in one class below. We talked for month on end about the idea in between school and work. Created countries, characters, government structures, and the works. This wasn’t the only novel we developed together and it was far from single digits compared to those we made ourselves.


Stories can come from any inspiration, stress or everyday life. Sprouted in the minds that are willing to take a second look at a joke and go “Hey, yeah! Imagine a world where every man is a slave and every woman is a belly dancer. Why is that?”