only accessed through recollection

"only accessed through recollection"

I watch my memory 

dissolve into time

fading away 

as a velvety mist 

of feelings and burdens

leaving behind 

barely a trace 

they were ever 

even there,

Like my icy breath

sliding out over my lips

fading

into the winter air

going from 

elegant icy lines 

to blending in to a silky haze,

   memories slowly eroding away 

   into almost nothing

   under the constant grind 

of denial and trauma and regret;

We are only 

ever so lucky 

to feel the grooves and textures

of what beautiful memories felt like 

only a few times;

   And never lucky enough 

   to get a detailed glimpse 

   of what the memory was

to begin with;

Formlessly existing somewhere 

among the blackness of thought

as we breath in time

and exhale memory

   eventually

   losing any evidence 

   that those memories

were ever even real.

-Armando Torres

voracious appetite

"voracious appetite"

I'm getting eaten alive 

by my emotions,

   they're cleaning me down 

   to the bone,

chewing through the gristle, 

   ripping apart my tendons,

tearing my meat from bone;

   a pack of hungry hyenas 

   gorging as they splay me open

   with me foolishly 

trying to scoop back in 

   everything crimson 

that is spilling out

from within;

My screams muffled down 

by their primal,

gutteral growls of feasting

silently kept 

behind my closed lips;

I'm left as a walking cadaver 

   in moments 

   they have had their fill

with large chunks 

   of body 

missing,

stiffly lumbering along 

trying to get inside 

before their next meal 

begins;

before 

I get pulled and yanked 

from one side to the other 

by my flesh

in their ravenous jaws,

It all, sadly 

keeps growing back however 

just for it all 

to never satiate 

their rapacious hunger.

-Armando Torres

Things i think i lost (version 2)

"Things i think i lost"

I think I must have lost 

my honesty 

somewhere on the wind

after I told you how I felt;

   I know I dropped 

   my courage 

   somewhere beside the road

   when I said 

   I could be that person for you;

I thought I had gained 

more than I was giving up

but ended up leaving behind

so many things 

not knowing I was changing;

   realizing now

   I never should have given away 

so easily

   all those things 

I wish I could have back;

You were my deconstruction.

   Pieces of myself started 

   to shake loose and fall off like 

   some kind of

   old machine still churning 

   and shaking

   for a purpose no longer important;

Trying to find myself again

I left behind 

my confidence 

below the white pine 

on the bench 

I used to visit

when sadness had me suffocating;

I lost my intellect 

at some bar 

in some glass 

I was drinking from, 

   my imagination vanished 

   when I set it down 

   on the corner of fifth, 

it must have been stolen 

or taken 

by mistake 

or I may have given it away; 

My optimism was pulled from me 

by the dreary cold of winter, 

gracefully touching its chill 

on my neck 

as I spent 

all those dark hours 

alone in bed;

Though

they continue to fall away 

like an old structure

missing its foundation

barely staying upright 

as time rots it 

away

around the edges and from within;

I stand upright 

still not broken 

missing pieces

though maybe only a little bent

but still not broken.

-Armando Torres

Things i think i lost

"Things i think i lost"

I think I must have lost 

my honesty 

somewhere on the wind

after I told you how I felt;

   I do know I dropped 

   my courage 

   somewhere beside the road

   when I said 

   I could be that person for you;

I thought I had gained 

more than I was giving up

but I ended up leaving behind

so many things 

not knowing I was changing 

and never should have given up 

all those things 

I wish I could have back;

You were my deconstruction;

pieces of myself started to fall off like 

some kind of

old machine still churning 

and shaking

for a purpose no longer important;

My sincerity was snatched away 

in the heat of the summer

by your devilish whisperings 

telling me I was wrong;

swiftly gliding in and grabbing it away 

with your pointy fingers

and explaining to me my own feelings;

I know my optimism was stolen 

by the dreary cold of winter, 

blowing its chill on my neck 

as I spent 

all those dark hours alone in bed;

It was my fault though

my kindness was left forgotten 

in some corner 

of some random room 

long ago, 

I know you didn't care

but I did try anyway;

I was lonely, 

and I thought you were where

my life was supposed to be;

instead,

ended up 

leaving more things 

I now continue to try 

to live without;

You were the end 

of so many things about me

that I still lament;

if I could go back 

and retrace my steps

and reclaim the things I lost

I would 

without hesistation;

Though you were my deconstruction

I have found 

it did not stop

once you took enough pieces;

they continue to fall away 

like an old structure

missing its foundation;

Trying to find me again

I left behind my confidence 

below the white pine 

on the bench I used to visit, 

I lost my intellect at some bar 

in some glass 

I was drinking from, 

my imagination vanished 

when I set it down 

on the corner of 1st and walker, 

it must have been stolen 

or taken 

by mistake 

or I may have given it away; 

I can't seem to find my compassion 

or my memory anymore 

so I must have lost those 

at some point as well 

or maybe they are still packed away 

in one of my many boxes 

in the closet 

perhaps forgetting 

that I have some things 

still hidden 

because I don't really have a place 

to start unpacking all these things; 

I feel like a bare bones 

version of myself, 

barely having anything 

of worth left;

Just a fleshy package 

of meat and emotion

taking another breath.

-Armando Torres

Ouroboros

"Ouroboros"

A beam of light 

flying across the cosmos 

carrying its whole history 

at the very percipice of its radiance

from some place

so irrationally far away;

A history already 

   written, 

   unchanging, 

flying toward the iris 

of this world 

though, no longer holding 

any of the details 

it began its journey with 

   other than 

   its flickering glimmer 

just so that 

we may look up at it 

in the night sky 

and witness its whole history 

as a mere pale point of light, 

Dimming a little bit more

over the course of time 

journeying through epochs and eras 

as it finally touches 

upon our eyes 

and reflects back 

spreading out from us 

trying to reach 

another point in time to reflect;

Holding what's left 

of its history, 

   losing a little 

   with every touch and reflection

the details it once held 

   so vividly 

where it will eventually

blink out of existence, 

I too, will also 

gasp my last breath 

as life will leave my eyes 

and my perception will fade

all for it to reflect back 

toward its point of origin 

though, 

without all the memory or hindsight

of this life, 

without all the experience 

or details, 

without the pain and joys;

A cyclical journey finding its point 

once more

on the circular disc 

of time  

as all that was gained hazes out

amongst the foggy veil of existence;

An infinite loop 

on the same stretch

though this time 

   with different choices; 

   a different life; 

   a different everything; 

infallable, perfect, 

an elegant system 

created by the universe 

to perpetuate reality 

along all its infinite avenues. 

-Armando Torres

...If Only

"...If Only"
If only we never had met...
or maybe instead 
we would only catch 
a passing glance
     and never knew it,
only then would we 
never have found
these kisses of ours.

Never to have these memories,
   that otherwise 
   would never have happened;
Never to feel your touch,
   or smell the scent of your hair;
Never to hear your voice
   or experience those small moments
   in your embrace;
I wouldn't know your fears,
your passions,
your life, or your family.
Wouldn't have these memories
of you laughing.

If I had never met you,
only then would we never know.

But we do know 
how we feel to the touch,
I know the way 
your lips feel against mine,
   how time 
   seemed to slip away
   when I was with you.
I know the way you sound 
when we made love,
the way you looked 
with the early morning light
carressing your sleeping face,
I know how life felt 
as we traded the day hours 
for the night.

Only your words,
   your eyes,
only the way you looked at me,
only you
felt where I should have been,
only you
was what felt real and right;
   among the stream of countless
   experiences and memories 
   before us,
only your touch
is what made sense
to me.

We were a slice of time
folded over upon itself
like a mirror reflecting infinity.

I know what it feels like
to only
want to love you
until we got to the best parts
of life
with you.

If only we had never met,
then this pain wouldn't 
feel so real.
These memories wouldn't exist
and my life would have different 
things to relive.

If only 
we had known that our love 
was so fleeting 
then perhaps we wouldn't have 
taken the chance,
then I could look out 
from the window and see others 
walking hand in hand
never knowing 
what it would feel like 
to take that chance.

-Armando Torres

False Calm

"False Calm"
Nothing is as it seems, 
   a calm blue sea above 
hiding a turbulent ocean 
just beneath,
   swirling and flowing 
   with raging currents;
moving and stretching 
the all-consuming fears and anxieties
of living life;
hiding 
a kaleidoscopic dance 
of formless emotions
just beneath 
a delicate surface tension,

Slipping and moving 
into the gaps of recollection
down amongst the deepest darkness 
inbetween all manner 
of slumbering monsters and beasts
with each 
representing 
some kind of part of me;
   all hiding away 
   among the deepest leagues 
   in this sea,

Though, the surface 
an ocean as serene 
and calm 
as the black lakes 
of the tower guard cities 
of Midraneen,
an ancient history 
hidden behind 
the foggy veil of time,
   with so much trying 
   to crash through 
the stillness of memory,

Raging waves pushing 
   and swaying,
screaming to break through
but I hide it all 
with clever tricks, 
   discipline and training,
for I cannot let my emotions 
dictate 
what little control I have left,

However,
the rhythmic pull and swell 
of calm ocean waves 
turn into crashing, roaring surges 
as they reach 
the shores of my mind,
slamming against the endless cliffs 
of all my thoughts 
throughtout all of time,
   shaping and molding 
   the coastal stretches of memory 
into relics long since forgotten,
it becomes difficult to hold
it all together,
to keep things in perspective,
nothing is as it seems anymore,
nothing feels real,
   nothing is like 
   it was before.

-Armando Torres

eternal recurrence

"eternal recurrence"
Amongst the last falling autumn leaves
within the fading hues 
of amber and orange and ruby,
   the stillness of memory lingers 
   upon the silent sways 
   of a fall breeze,

Patiently waiting 
for the touch of thought 
as the cool air glides 
through the trees,

A thin barrier exists 
between the present 
and echoing memory,
   rippling 
   upon the touch of a 
   connecting mind
slowly sending out 
quick glimpses of past happiness 
and deep sorrow,
   images of passing moments 
   of when things were different,
when choices still felt full 
of promise,

Now among the dying remnants 
of autumn 
that is soon to change 
to the palettes 
of grays and whites of winter, 
the weight of life's many moments 
wraps around us 
like a thick wool blanket 
helping us hold in 
the delicate warmth we have,

   For the winter cold holds 
   no quarter 
for our sentiment 
   and at any given moment 
   will remind us 
   of the present 
and yet still 
   even with all our mistakes 
   and many regrets,
we hold steady 
in the warmth of our memories, 

Even if they do bring pain, 
and sorrow, and melancholy,
Even if the world feels like 
it has frozen your whole life 
inside an unbearable moment,
   we hold steady,
waiting for the winds of spring 
to return 
imagining the first flowers 
beginning to bloom,
we pull in the next breath and
we hold steady.

-Armando Torres

These Eyes

"These Eyes"
I've been told 
the brown of my eyes 
are like charming
pools of amber honey 
shimmering in the sunlight,

That they have 
   a glossed sheen to them
reflecting shimmering 
golden points 
of light,

But no one sees 
the glimmering beauty 
in my eyes
for the pain 
it really is,

I've been told 
there is a kindness there;

And perhaps there is
   but one quick look 
   behind the almond veil
and one will see 
despair 
as deep as my soul goes,

The thin shine of kindness 
at the corners of my eyes
are to fool the world 
that I am okay
   but in reality its like
I'm standing in the middle 
of a crowded room
screaming with my mouth closed
hoping no one will see through
the glazed over façade 
and presume 
they understand
the misery I am going through;

But I've been told
the auburn in my eyes
have a kind of warmth to them,
   so I know I have fooled
   the world once again.

-Armando Torres

Cessation of rest

"Cessation of rest"
There's a midnight sting in my eyes
that lingers there 
for the whole day,
   paranoid of what my face
   might say 
   about it
   to those who are looking,
I instead
bare my teeth
as friendly as can be
and hope no one asks 
what I did last night,

Because in truth 
it was just another slog 
through insomnia and anxiety,
   another 3 or 5 am sleep time
   through all the canyons and valleys
   of a never resting mind,

Hoping 
for just some sort of simple respite
from all the heaviness 
that exists in my life,
   but usually 
   what happens
   is just another long night 
   like all the ones before
plucked
   from what feels like 
   an infinite supply,
like a long line 
of reflections of mirrors
that never end,
   just to trudge through them
   and do it all over again.

-Armando Torres

Cracks

"Cracks"
It's such an impossible chance,
       so infintesimally small 
that it should be unimaginable,
              even paradoxical,

Even the seemingly 
         infinitely 
long history 
of unique events to occur 
for each one of us to be born 
is at a better probability,

There is not a single person here now 
in the present 
that isn't from 
a long series of actions 
connected throughout history,

Every moment always connected 
to some moment before it
and even before that, 
         and even before that,

We are all here 
by some incredible chance 
but this...
...This should have been 
   an impossibility,

It took a single moment 
for my reality to disappear 
and all it took 
was a blink of an eye,

Perception holds our ethereal existence 
in place, 
flowing and weaving 
throughout 
the fabric of reality,

But all it took 
for it to vanish 
was for every perception 
to blink at the same time 
for it to create a moment 
no one witnessed,
   and it all 
   vanished,

Only here now 
as an implied existence,
...maybe...

feeling nothing, 
seeing nothing,
weaving and flowing with nothing,
just floating in the void,
   caught in the seams 
of reality,
   alone.

-Armando Torres

Dreams

"Dreams"
I don't want to wake up,
in here 
I can see the tree's leaves 
swaying so perfectly,
in here 
the sky is filled 
with brightly lit 
specks of light,

I can almost feel 
the breeze 
and smell the scent of grass,

my pain is invalidated 
and my happiness feels real here 
and we have a home here 
and a backyard with kids,
   things we said we wanted,

Here I can still see 
your smile, 
you didn't leave,
in here 
you're still in love with me,

But sometimes the sky turns 
red and purple
and the walls begin to bleed,

the grass turns into fingers 
and the trees become arms 
that reach out and pull on me,

screams echo in the sky 
and still 
you stand there smiling 
before your face melts away
and say
I love you 
as you become just teeth 
among a mess of flesh,

and I still don't want to wake up 
even as you begin to become 
a blend of color 
and tissue 
and meat,

even as your screams 
are all I can hear,

even as the ground 
pulls away 
from my feet 
and the void swallow me,

I still don't want to wake up.

-Armando Torres

all my mistakes

"all my mistakes"
Is it self destructive 
to think that maybe 
I deserve this,

When looking back on all 
the people I have lost,
people that were important to me,

would it be so hard to admit
that I do this 
with reasons 
I don't quite understand,

Insecurities that stem from 
growing up and being discarded 
when I wasn't needed,

From hurt that happened 
by being vulnerable,
letting people close 
only for them to push me away,

Years of that growing up 
and now 
I only allow myself 
a certain amount of vulnerability 
before I, myself
start pulling away
from everything,

My mind tells me to do this 
before they can hurt me, 

It's a self fulfilling prophecy 
that I've told before
and I've lost relationships 
because of it,
lost people dear to me,

There's no fixing 
what has already happened,
no looking back without regret,

I will end up alone 
because I cannot fix this part of me,
my soul was trying to protect me 
from all the hurt
but I just ended up 
with the sharpest pain in the end.

-Armando Torres

The White Pine

"The White Pine"
Long before I was ever here 
there that tree stood,
a giant white pine 
towering over the neighborhood,
witnessing memories into existence,
families growing, people passing, 
friends leaving, 
lovers sneaking kisses 
underneath its looming shadow,

and long before then 
it was watching as the other pines were 
being cut 
at their trunks 
and uprooted by the stumps 
they left behind 
leaving no trace of what was 
there 
before,

earth moved and pushed 
and covered over 
with concrete, 
roads and homes appeared 
in those spaces, 

witnessing even before then 
the young fawns grazing for berries,
baby bluebirds squawking 
for their mother's food, 
dense wooded areas 
of cedars and sequoias, 
   watching 
   as a different kind of life 
   moved through,

standing tall and strong 
with all the other trees
believing 
this would be the state of things, 

now as I stand here looking 
up at this tree, 
this beautiful white pine, 
I see only sidewalks and concrete, 
yellow grass and side streets,
square homes and garbage cans,
there are no other trees here anymore,
no others like this giant white pine, 
its all alone 
still standing strong 
even after everything 
it has seen.

-Armando Torres

The Chair

"The Chair"
I feel weary 
like that old chair I pass 
that sits by a tree 
collecting its own moss,

it has been ages 
since anyone has sat in it,
   it has become a part 
   of the tired brown scenery 
as everyone ignores it 
as they all 
walk past,

time has begun to grow up its legs 
as its color slowly fades 
to muted grays and light hues 
of yellow,

a relic from bygone moments 
where its purpose was still relevant,

in its abandonment it has acquired 
its own earthy scent,
   a smell of rust and 
   dirt and grass,
its vinyl fabric has attained 
an aged hue of brown and yellow 
   as the birds and insects 
   find their own 
   personal moments upon it, 

spiders adorn its legs 
with magnificently designed homes 
of their own,
   spending their entire lives 
   here 
   catching flies 
underneath this chair 
before being plucked away 
   by a bluebird's beak 
for their babies,

nature moves and grows around this chair 
as I watch it every morning 
walking past,

one day however, it was gone, 
not in its place any longer, 
I saw it get picked up 
and thrown in the trash,

just as well though,
   it couldn't be there forever,
it left behind a plot of grass 
and weeds 
that grew to its shape 
on the ground,

it is no longer there when I walk past,
just an irrelevant memory now,
no one even notices it has disappeared,
it had become such a part 
of the weary scenery 
that now that its gone 
I see the weeds growing 
through the cracks in the concrete,
the trees for the leaves 
they do not have,
this corner of nature 
for the garbage it has,

I see now only 
where this chair once was.

-Armando Torres

Mimic

"Mimic"
I hear breathing underneath my breath,
some other thing living alongside me,
I can feel its presence 
right behind my head,
some fiendish thing 
averted from my sight,
   existing where I cannot see it,

In my moments of loneliness 
I know I am not alone
for it mimics my every movement 
perfectly,
learning my every emotion exactly,
and casts no reflection 
upon the mirrors for me to see,

Always hidden 
right behind me 
in perfect synchronicity,

Among the darkness 
behind my closed eyes 
   however,
I sometimes can hear its 
breath fall out of sync 
with mine
and I open my eyes 
thwarting its attempt 
to latch upon my existence
as it tries 
to devour what I am,
   it then 
   retreats 
   with soft breathing 
slowly returning 
to its perfect mimicry.