without shape

"without shape"
I want to write things 
that make me feel 
the same way 
a sad song can tear 
through my heart,
or how a lavishly orange sunset 
can look like 
painted brushstrokes of art, 
to find the right way 
to phrase 
certain words that allows 
my nostalgia to play 
with my melancholy, 
   so that my memories 
   can find 
   the meaning inside 
   elegant piano melodies 
where otherwise 
   would be just empty sadness 
   with no outlet 
   for release,

I want to find the words 
that describe what my soul 
is feeling,
that uncanny sensation 
where the formless 
takes shape 
as it crashes upon 
the diaphanous boundaries 
of what is ethereal 
and what is corporeal 
creating what I know 
as emotion,

Without any of my words 
that allows me 
to understand it 
I cannot know what it is 
that I am actually feeling 
other than knowing 
that it is in fact 
something to be felt,
   it is as tangible as touch 
   and as formless as sight,

Without the keys 
to the lock 
all I will know 
is there is a door 
with something behind it,
   I just know 
   there are ways 
   in any language 
   to communicate 
this deep well of things 
that I feel 
   that have no form.

-Armando Torres

see you around

"see you around"
your memory 
tends to linger with me 
even though 
I know 
we were wrong romantically,
I wish we could go back 
to being friends, 
back before the wreckage 
we left in our wake,

it was always too much 
to ignore, 
too much to not 
take a chance 
but in the end, we did 
and in the process 
destroyed 
all that we had before,

there are moments I miss, sure 
and with time 
we may perhaps mend 
but knowing all the hurt 
I just don't know 
if there is enough time 
in a single lifetime 
to heal 
the depths of our wounds, 
   so I wish you well 
   and who knows, maybe 
I'll see you on the other side.

-Armando Torres

it's nice to see you

"it's nice to see you"
Here we are again, 
feeling the same way again, 
what do we do this time, 
I'm not sure, 
I'm not even 
supposed to have any memory 
of this 
beyond the threshold 
of the veil, 

Only the primordial feeling 
of connection 
that we will always have 
no matter where we exist 
in the cosmos should be there 
but for some reason
I remember everything; 

I don't know what will happen 
this time 
but for some reason 
the powers at be 
have allowed me 
to retain all my memories,
 
I can see 
this is 
the same stretch of time 
we once had 
but we are at the beginning 
of the connection once again 
and perhaps I think I do know 
what I would have
to do
but it's not the right time.

I think 
maybe 
perhaps 
could be 
possibly, 
that my heart is finally 
realizing that yes, 
I do in fact love you 
but sadly 
we are 
again 
in the wrong stretch of time 
this time.
But It was nice to see you though.

-Armando Torres

Stygian Stars

"Stygian Stars"

He found himself 

in the place 

where the black stars hang, 

so far beyond 

the comprehension 

of what our minds 

can claim, 

a supreme madness 

so invariably consuming 

to the sensitive fleshy souls 

of humans 

that there is no returning 

to any part 

that was you 

that existed before

the descent into insanity,

was it Hell, 

for he did not know, 

the only thing that was certain 

was the sensation 

of his mind flaying 

under the slicing pressure 

of this place,

an insufferable pain 

gripped his sanity 

as he witnessed things 

words cannot explain,

even if he could understand 

he could never know 

what was happening, 

had he died, 

was he alive,

why was he swimming 

in the black seas of infinity,

time was fluid here, 

he could feel every moment 

of his life being 

excruciatingly stripped away, 

layer by layer, 

detail by detail, 

inch by inch, 

everything he had ever done, 

every lie he had ever said, 

every joy he ever felt, 

ripped away from him 

as each second 

felt like a thousand years,

each memory happening 

over and over until 

it was too precious 

to give up 

before being torn away 

like tufts of hair 

being torn away 

from his scalp,

And after thousands upon thousands 

of years have passed 

no part of him was human 

any longer, 

he had been stripped and flayed 

and gone through a process of transformation 

leaving him beyond 

our comprehension 

in that place where the black stars hang.

-Armando Torres

tenuous

"tenuous"

I keep dreaming an image 

of your hand clasped 

in mine, 

interlocked fingers 

with each one 

over 

the other 

slightly bent inward 

holding tightly 

each other's hands. 

I can't seem 

to get it out of my dreams, 

it's an image I know I have seen 

so many times before 

in reality, 

   but know now 

   I won't again 

   outside of my dreams.

I can still see vividly 

the textures of your skin, 

the hue and creases 

of your hand, 

your painted fingernails, 

the tiny scar you have 

on your knuckle, 

I can still even remember 

how cold your hands 

always seemed to be, 

always wanting to warm them 

with mine.

I would from time to time 

turn your hand over 

and look at the fine lines 

stretching across 

your palms 

gently sliding the tip 

of my finger 

over your heart line 

before touching 

your entire palm with mine 

and sliding my fingers in between yours

and holding your hand like 

it would be forever.

-Armando Torres