Hint of an Image

"Hint of an Image"

Barely a silky trace

of a shape,

   I can almost see the glimmer

   in your eyes

        --whoever you are,

I can see just the faintest image.

How did you get here,

so far in,

deep

inside my mind,

in my most secret and private of places,

     Where did you come from,

There's something about you though

that has enchanted me

and I can't stop thinking about you,

     If only I knew that you knew

that I have you on my mind.

I find the traces of you

left behind, 

among the walls and hallways

of my mind,

just the hints of your essence,

I don't even know who you are

but some kind of percieved astral touch

has been imprinted on me

that makes it feel you aren't far,

The physical distance that exists

seems to be the illusion

we as corporeal beings 

understand for separation,

But something feels more mysterious

just beyond 

the edges of comprehension

     that tells me some kind of connection

can manifest without form,

     Outside of the physical,

on a plane without time and space

but instead,

with intertwining essences

creating connecions felt through energies

that,

with the right alignment

perhaps drip through

with wonderous droplets of emotion

that we can't fully understand,

     but can 

     only know the feeling,

And Can Only 

see 

the hint of an image.

-Armando Torres

The Demon in Me

"The Demon in Me" Can I keep it secret? Can I keep it hidden? Keep it on the fringes of my life... I forget to remind myself of the temptations that linger on the edges of depression, I walk around with my head hung down hoping I won't catch a glimpse of the demon that follows me in every reflection smiling its fiendish grin; waiting to be seen. I tell myself I don't want it, it's the lie I force myself to believe until I realize I can't find some deep sense of meaning, So I'd rather distract myself with iniquitous pleasures. Rather salivate on my sweet taste of melancholy, and relish my regret drenched insomnia, I'd rather lick the flavor than feel the pain. I remind myself of the temptations and the demons that lurk just beyond, right at the limits of my perception, I let myself be taken. It synchs its existence with my own and stands inside me smiling, with its eyes right behind mine. My hedonistic sins are where I find meaning. I want to feel everything and be within my lustful lies and feel you from the inside. This demon calls for nothing less. I remind myself of the temptations just to forget again. But if you look close enough in my eyes, you'll see where I end and the demon begins.

-Armando Torres

Erosion

"Erosion" My blood stained eyes hold weary the wear of the day and gaze out to the blur in between my face and the space my eyes are aimed, All the while line after line snorting obscurity straight to my brain hiding amongst despondency hoping the sounds of my muted screams reach somewhere beyond these constructs of mine, I've come to perceive that being and feeling alone is as dark and desperate as six feet below the ground, All that matters seems to fade leaving only irrelevance in the end, So I hang my head back and try to find the little slice of time again where even my pain eventually erodes away.

-Armando Torres

A Splay of Affection

"A Splay of Affection" A thick syrupy darkness fills my room leaving me able to glance into the void, to relive certain memories, it's a rare deep shade of gloom that allows my madness of a broken person to flicker with just enough life to know it's real, it's in my nature to carry the residue of moments of anguish, to let it define a portion of my life, whether by choice or by its damage. I always see the same door though, I blink and it appears right in the middle of the room. An innocuous looking door on its own but I can still hear the muffled moans and the soft movements of naked skin coming from within the other side. I wouldn't change a thing about what happened, it put me on a path I see necessary now. There isn't much left from that moment, just the occasional stabbing pain of anger and hatred, Nothing much more but a splay of affection.

-Armando Torres

Refraction of Memory

 

"Refraction of Memory"

I see it at the edges of my eyes sometimes, a ghostly shade floating gently from space to space, Perhaps it's an echo of an existence, And every time I look its way it dissipates into the reality it was surrounded by, just substantial enough like a silky mist dissolving into the air fading into the fabric of the invisible Questioning if it was ever really there, Does it see me? Is it sentient? Or somehow just a memory? My quick glimpses of this apparition happen when my mind seems to wander into remembrance and my eyes gloss over and fade out of focus, then somewhere it begins to manifest within the stillness of the room I'm in, A shade coming to form with elegant sways of movement right at the edge of perception full of some kind of feeling or echo of recollection. It moves just like you, feels just like you, but it can't be you. Then I catch a glimpse of another shape, moving in harmony with you, it fees like me, moves like me. But it can't be me. Then I realize as the swell of possibilities builds behind my eyes and the pain finally drips its absolution down my cheeks and through the contours of my humanity; it's an echo of us, A refraction of memory, Of what could have been us.

-Armando Torres

Never Even There.

"Never Even There."

As much as I am sorry for telling you those awful things, They're still true, I just regret having to be the one to tell you. You were at one time everything to me, the piece of me I never knew was missing. You were to me what I believed every choice I had ever made was meant for. But we weren't worth saving. You turned out to be a pivot point in my life, a fulcrum that allowed most of the negative things that would come to follow. Your crossing point in my life ends up being now so many regrets I have to swallow. You are not this missing piece of me, you were a mistake I made that led me to be taken advantage. You are now nothing to me, I don't care about the words you have to say. There's been nothing more powerful I have gained than indifference toward you. The importance you had has all but faded away leaving behind only hollow shapes of memory, times and places I remember being as your presence in them slowly fades into obscurity, leaving a different feeling almost like you were never even there. Never mentioned. Never remembered. Never. Even. There.

-Armando Torres

Morning Ritual

"Morning Ritual" My eyes slowly flicker open as the morning hues of soft light begin to streak across the sky, My morning ritual is set in motion as sun light pours through my bedroom windows, Just beyond the glass the blues and greens and the warm yellows stretch up and over the distant horizon, A roasted caramelly aroma of coffee gently glides into my senses, The majestic moonlight glow from the night before begins to give way for the golden radiance of the sun. The sky catches fire as its flames shoot upward spreading across the blue hues of the heavens, As the world rotates toward our celestial star, turning night into day, its golden rays begin to heat my face and I gently close my eyes and bask below its glimmering veil of orange embers and silky drips of sunshine. My eyes slowly open once again and with that my morning ritual ends.

-Armando Torres

Mending

"Mending" I've gone through most of my life trying to find value in myself through other people's filters, trying to be the solution in other people's riddles, The world just feels easier when I can look in the mirror with no tears and accept myself. There's parts of me I hate so much, parts I used to love, parts I thought defined me but ended up just weapons I used against myself. My ego won't be stripped away so easily, it'll claw and scrape and rip, roaring with angry survivalist's instincts, Scared beyond insecurity and surviving in my self destruction. I have to face the fact that I'm sorry to myself, for letting me believe all the wrong in me was what defined me. I need to find the sincere feeling so that when I say it in the mirror it means I won't ever do it again. I'm sorry.

-Armando Torres

A Mangled Mess

"A Mangled Mess"

My gnarled, mangled, mess of flesh is all that's left in the mirror. A coppery metallic taste of blood mixed with my liquor to wash away any regrets. What do I know about myself without some kind of destruction? I have to strip down, flay my skin, display my mangled face and stand broken and bare before I even catch a glimpse. Never had any good role models, Nor mentors, Never knew what I didn't know, Still don't. But I won't stand idly by watching my life pass me by though. I'll experience it even if it rips me open, twist and tears my mind and leaves me broken. I won't look back even if it means leaving me a mangled mess.

-Armando Torres

I don't Regret You

"I don't Regret You"

I still think about you

     -sometimes,

It's fascinating

how your memory 

isn't even an image anymore;

     but more like

     a ghostly, faint shape,

     far off in the distance,

          surviving on the smallest hints

of remembrance.

My mind won't let you die

and every so often 

you come up 

to the forefront 

of my memories

     with such terrifying vibrance

     reminding me

why I left.

I don't regret me leaving

     only that I invested so much.

I don't regret having to look 

     at an empty apartment,

I don't regret having to pack my things,

     pulling down pictures and leaving behind

          the ones that would bring memory,

I don't regret the evenings

     together on the couch,

          snug with our favorite blanket,

I don't regret our small moments

     or the nights we had

          where we bared our souls

     and we got to know

more

than anyone before,

more

intimately than anything 

     we had ever shared before.

I don't regret the pain 

     of having to move from our home,

     or living in the empty remains of a home ruined,

I regret only having invested so much

because 

somewhere 

my intent did not line up with my heart,

     And we both deserved better.

I hope you found the happiness

I could not find 

     to provide,

I knew then what I still know now...

I don't love you

but I also 

     Don't Regret You.

-Armando Torres

Everything Burns

"Everything Burns"

I...

...We feel so distant

     even though 

you... 

     are sitting right there

not a few feet away,

I can see you,

hear you,

almost touch you.

My tender skin

feels everything now 

beyond

just the physical touch,

     it's too much to endure

     most days

     to experience

     the textures of emotion

in every moment

     only to find sadness and anguish

sift through 

to form your day.

I don't think I can do this anymore,

I wish we could have had

     a more fulfilling role

in each other's lives

     but alas

we only 

     now have

rooms 

     full of susurrous sounds,

whispering doubts 

     and crowns of thorns.

At some point 

my skin 

turned

     so thin

it became diaphianous,

     and so came the demons,

     to claim 

     this silken sheer of skin,

translucent to anger and rage

so obvious to you

that it became your tool

to control all our interactions.

I became a puppet 

at the end of your strings,

     too scared to be vulnerable

     in front of you,

Never meant to find anything

beyond what was meant

by anything you said.

All those seconds, 

those minutes, 

those hours,

never feeling freedom

beyond the notion 

of what you allowed.

It's not that we feel distant

but more perhaps 

that we just don't agree on anything any longer,

     because how I feel now 

     is my tender skin 

     has been flayed and scarred.

I'll never be the same 

and I'm trying to find

the courage to be alone and away,

but life is a tricky thing,

It's scary to live life as it were,

     It's difficult to find the strength

because in the end,

it's simple...

when one realizes that,

Everything burns.

-Armando Torres

Staring at Me

"Staring at Me"

The night air chills my cheeks

as I pull a cigarette from a pack

I keep in my 

inside coat pocket.

I need to quit 

but tonight 

it's like a ritual

and this is my prophet.

The city is silent

and the streets 

are cold with moisture

so I need to suck in

my nicotine

before I join her.

I pull up my collar

as I walk the frigid night again,

     And think to myself that last time

     was going to be the end,

     that it wasn't going to happen again,

but here I am walking 

these streets one more time

along the same route

I've done 

     dozens of times before.

She calls and I come.

My body craves it

and I can't quit it.

The sex is too good.

But I know what this is,

If I have only one purpose

in this existence,

     it's not this

But I'll be damned

if I don't sell my soul

Every chance I get.

I fucking love it.

She melts through my flesh

and finds my essence

in its more basic forms,

My body is my Own

but she can command it

when I hand over control.

Knows everything about me

in its carnal shapes.

But beyond

the tangled mess

of flesh and sweat

she knows nothing about me.

I take it as a compliment

that she craves me as well,

but

I just know

I can't do this again,

it has to end,

but tonight I'll give in.

I suck in a final puff

from my cig

before throwing it on the ground

and stepping on it,

She's laying on the bed

staring at me

when I finally walk in.

-Armando Torres