Sunday, December 21, 2008

I died again...

"I died again..."
I'm a hollow shell of what I used to be. Long nights is how I live with bloodshot eyes and empty rooms. Empty nights and full moons. I died and didn't even notice. I died and didn't even feel it. I'm somewhere between what is and was while will be is only something for those who haven't died. And there I forget where I am and become dead everytime I remember again.
-Armando Torres

Friday, December 19, 2008

Cigarette Tip

"Cigarette Tip"
Steam rises from his lips like a cigarette tip amidst winter breeze. His eyes frozen solid inside cold hardness and his nose seized in icy chills that slice across his face. And yet he stands there like a burning tip amidst a winter breeze, like a red glow burning hot embers, a red slowly withering away as the silky lines of gray rise into the icy air and still he stands there. Somewhere hidden behind the falling white flakes lies what his eyes have found and thus have died a death frozen not in time but there where everything dies. The winter's knife edge pierces the very fabric of his reality as it slowly slides past cutting with icy precision that which he looks out to. Like a cigarette tip, burning not red embers but for today, just this December away.
-Armando Torres

Monday, December 15, 2008

Snowflake Splendor

"Snowflake Splendor"
Sitting inside as it snows with windows closed outside, the cool breaths of winter hit the edges of her pane and there the soft fog forms. And somewhere in that December white she sits in silence shedding tears for something that feels so far away. The soft yellow glow of her bed side lamp glitters off her diamond-like teardrops as they roll to the curves of her face. Alone feels so alone this time of year when your face is all she sees. Pain feels so painful when she feels only the echo of touches. The sky slowly falls outside and settles softly on the cold icy ground. Crystals of infinite shapes crack the monotony of her window and the forever gray paints a somber white picture of her December winter. The bare trees back drop the falling scenery as her eyes look out to the dying light and she sits in darkness to shed tears of snowflake splendor.
-Armando Torres