Friday, April 14, 2017

a hint of winter

"a hint of winter"
a cold gray
          at the edges
     of everywhere I look,
a hint of winter
     hangs on the air,
bringing with it
     a crisp freshness
that courses through my lungs,

as my eyes close
the cool air
     floats by and
my thoughts find you
as you swirl and form
     from the endless waves
          of blacks and grays
               in my mind
and I see you,
     only for a moment
before I open my eyes
and forget
what your face looked like,

a life once lived
     now gone
to the infinite dark of time,

I see winter creeping in from the North,
     there's a hint of memory
on the cool air,
          reminiscent flashes
of you
          I so long to believe
were true
I never know now,
     only remember
just enough
     to feel the desolate pull
of what once was
     with the mercy of the wind
hoping for another glimpse.
-Armando Torres

Tuesday, April 11, 2017

Empty Spaces

"Empty Spaces"
I still see you in every moment,
     in the doorway,
     in that empty corner,
     in empty spaces
          overlaid as memory,
all that remains are
     walls full of empty spots,
          just echos of a past no longer,
there was a lifetime worth of things
     not said
     between us,
our purpose that once meant so much
     no longer means much
     of anything now
          except as a ghostly relic of antiquity,
     just thoughts
     separated by time,
               a cesspool of lonesome questions,
I see you there
     in front of the mirror
          fixing your hair,
and on the couch
     leaning into me,
I hear you in my thoughts
     as whispers
     in from the edges of silence
     on the delicate tips of memory,
          bringing with it
               the icy chill of remembrance,
     so as only I remain
I feel solely the essence
     of your memory.
-Armando Torres

Monday, April 10, 2017

the creeping fear

"the creeping fear"
It's there all the time, the creeping fear,
     the hidden horrors deep within my own mind.
It is not the unknown I should fear
but the thoughts that creep in
from the depths of darkness.

With every moment I endure
I exist
     the agonizing thoughts
     of my own design.
Slowly sliding further away.
It is ourselves we should fear
for we harbor the sweetest kinds of terrors.

My lies have become the truths
     I so desperately denied
as I shroud them over the hideousness of my life,
losing the delicate honesty of fear to shadow.

I exist only
     as a moment
     folded into infinity,
     forever captured
     beyond the fabric of comprehension
     and only as a reflection of lies,
a moment
     extending forever inward
          as I forget
          I too am just
          one of the many reflections,
the miseries of an existence
     that perhaps may not exist at all
     in a boundless abyss,
     void of any truths.
A relic of horror and antiquity,
     wrapped in nightmares
     and thrown into the fires.
     there's an echo that remains,
     beyond perception.
A lie that perhaps says
     I must endure.
A shadow that crawls as it watches, a hidden horror,
     salivating on my very torture,
     whispering the sweetest things from the deepest recesses
          of my mind,
          telling me I must endure.
A shadow that crawls in from the edges
     bringing with it
     the torments of memory,
          clouding all
          that was
          once me and forging
     a lie of agonizing truths,
     peeling away
     a fabric of reality
I once saw as myself and replacing it with misery.
-Armando Torres

Thursday, April 6, 2017


Awake again
in the middle of the night
with the soft glow of the television screen
spattered on her face, and nothing more,
She remembers again
as the silent night chill
into her small apartment again,
her eyes weary and open
are but
another reminder
of her dreary life, nothing more,
she holds on to the cold staleness of memory
only for them to exist as
more regrets
to rewind
for another countless time,
she searches for the strength
to keep hoping.
she prays.

Her tired eyes finally find
that slice of sleep she's been waiting for
and a familiar image waits in the darkness,
once more her eyes open,
she can't sleep,
she can only cry again,
she looks over to her tiny bed again
and she remembers
the way she felt
when she held her
in her arms,
the look of her tiny face and her tiny sounds,
her tiny mouth and little hands, her little smile and tiny breaths,
She can't move on
when all her being
is bound
by what happened,
hoping and praying
every night,
She did all she could
with all she had,
she prayed everyday
as she watched
her baby die,
she prayed everyday.
-Armando Torres

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

My Cosmic Ride

"My Cosmic Ride"
Something plays on the television screen
     but I'm not watching,
Its dull hues
of blue and green
are spat on my walls
     and the gentle daze of night
shrouds my eyes
as I see something else in the empty space
before me,

Somewhere beyond where my eyes seem
     to linger exists a memory,
a painted thought,
a sliver of a life remembered
through the brush strokes of melancholy
in glorious shades of black and gray,

I rise
     above the midnight clouds
bathed in moonlight,
forging forward and catching the passing wave
     to ride through the stars,
dogs howling in the distance
but existing now
only in the endless cosmos.

There you are
     in my faintest image,
in the corner of my mind
riding this wave along with me,
reaching out with your fingers
over the scattered points of light
     like water,
I smile
     remembering those lovely mornings together
the nights we spent whispering stories to each other,
     all those lovely moments
existing now
     as lonely points of pale light
shining their whole existence into my eyes
     as flickering moments of irrelevance,
droplets of starlight peppering and piercing the deep black
and yet something more falls than just tears,

     It's here I feel the dark again,
the weight of reality
washing over me
and covering my every inch of existence,
     I fall ten million miles and crash back
at my television screen.
nothing is left
but the haunting echoes of my regrets,
nothing now but
     the faintest image of your smile.
-Armando Torres

Monday, March 20, 2017


Somewhere in this soft gray of night
     I can feel the soft caress of your kisses against my neck,
I take a moment to find your eyes
     find all the things I've ever wanted to do,

Through the steady touches of your lips against mine
     a smooth icy chill slithers its way down my spine
and I slide softly in between your opened thighs,
          and all the moments I have ever had
stay frozen in place
     as time lets move
nothing more
     the moonlight glitters
of those beautiful eyes of yours,

     As I feel your hand softly slide up mine
I fall even more mesmerized
     with every intimate moment of you,

I can no longer ignore the desire,
     I'm too far in love with how it all feels
to ever look back,

     I want it all
I want
     the silky sensation of our naked bodies sliding against one another,
I want
     our deep, long breaths to be the only sounds as we slide back and forth,
to feel the inside of your arousal,
     I want it all
     I'm still only here staring into your eyes,
your beautiful eyes.
-Armando Torres


I lost you somewhere
     in between the fights and our lovely nights,
          somewhere beyond our first kiss,
but now nothing is left of what was us,
                         just single moments cut away to reminisce.
Just pieces.

All those nights we spent together
     talking for hours
          selling away the day
               for moments with each other.
Looking for the chances
     to touch your hand,
               Remembering the first time
your lips touched mine
                         and holding one another.

the silence hangs heavy now that you're not here,

Suddenly now all this pain
     and I have no blame to give
because I tell myself I was worth leaving,
even if you said to me as much hurtful things as I did to you.

we fell apart,

It is here where the silvery veil of thought
     pulls back for me,
and memory seems to fall gently
with December's chill.
Touching ever so softly before melting away
     into oblivion,
only for another to come along and touch
with another reminiscent flash
of a time long since passed.

I've thought a lot about these pieces.

I hold you dear I do, I miss you
     but now only realize it isn't you,
you left a long while ago, you are no longer here,
so time holds no solutions
when I can't figure out
how to go one day without you.

I hate how much you still mean to me.

I stand here alone trying to find myself again
     only to find the regrets,
hoping one day
I wake up and you are no longer in my thoughts,
hoping this pain would just end.
But every time I see your side of the bed
     I feel the hole again.

I don't know how to say I miss you
     because I've been told I'm not supposed to,
but how am I to fall out of love with you
          if I can't find a way to resent you.

These pieces belong to me
and those lovely mornings
          we had together
they belong to time now,
          just distant memories
          slowly forgotten
               but always felt.

Nothing is left now but the calmness of my nights
          and the somberness of day,
Nothing is left of what was us,
     just single moments cut away,
just pieces.
-Armando Torres

Tuesday, March 14, 2017

Ceiling Wrinkles

"Ceiling Wrinkles"
I stared at the ceiling
trying to make out sentences
through the endless wrinkles
but found only the monotonous words
willing to show,
in the swirling and shifting space
of my imagination
forming from the whites and hues of gray
I found the absolution of my existence.
What I thought the world was
just wasn't
but instead
a mastery of creation
willing only to show
the reflections of my own memories.
I only saw what I've already seen,
     the thoughts
     only willing.
-Armando Torres

Skinny Love

"Skinny Love"
Oh my beautiful skinny love
     how I love you so,
          with you leaving me
     I find the memories of us
just so painful to play.

I couldn't hide the swell of tears
     when you looked at me
          as if
               to say...

I love you...

I told you to just hold on,
                    but watched helplessly
               as you tried to do
          what you could not,
     no matter how hard you tried.

but you couldn't,
     I wanted you to be around
for the summer days,
     for the cold winter to pass,
to see the sun wash away this somber gray
     that lingers in the air.

You tried,
     lying there in bed,
          wires all around,
          and profound.

My skinny love
     you lost all your weight
and I hated to sit and wait
     for the day you left.

You looked at me
     with your sunken eyes
          and skinny cheeks
     to say I love you
once more
     you ceased to move
and I watched as the life left your eyes,
     and silence filled the room.

          I told you to just hold on,
but you could not.
-Armando Torres

Wednesday, February 22, 2017

One leaf left

"One leaf left"
The last Autumn breath
     slides it's soft caress
          across my face
               as it gives way
                    for the hard cold of winter's chill.

On the gentle sways of silence
               a painful gray hangs heavy
          on the icy air,
     And the trees are barren of all their leaves
except for one.

               I see this one leaf left.

My eyes gloss over
     as they hold still
on the delicate fluttering
               Of this single leaf,
at the edge of it's absolution,
                    clinging beyond the inevitable.

     This leaf,

holds and sways
     in defiance of winter's breeze,
and as winter waits
          behind a shimmering veil
of dancing light,
               my eyes cling to this single leaf.

I fight
     the swell of time
          that has begun to drip
     to the very end of my lashes,
to see this one leaf left.

A sharp cool wind
     swims in past the empty branches
          toward this last leaf.

     Its stem is ripped away
          From it's home.
                                   My eyes shoot upward
                with this leaf,
                                   watching it dance
          across the sky
                    And as I do
         My tears finally
Begin to fall.

-Armando Torres

Monday, June 23, 2014

I forgot to feel

"I forgot to feel"
it lost itself somewhere behind these eyes of mine,
some kind of sorrow I forgot to feel,
it's there somehow and yet perhaps
it is not,
maybe its what I tell myself
in those lonely moments where nothing exists but me and my thoughts.
I forgot to feel
with the swell of tears brimming at the edges of my eyes.
The darkness lingers longer than it should
but I just hide it deep beneath these eyes of mine,
somehow however
it lost itself somewhere,
I know I should know
but it has faded away to the smallest corners
making me believe it is gone
and I believe it is
as the swell of tears stream from these eyes
even though I know it is not.
-Armando Torres

Right Now

"Right Now"
small nights,
dry heat.
no light save the low glow of the television screen,
however muted
so no sound save our own.
the bitter naive early play of our guitars,
late hours of escape, no company save our own,
no money, no reasons, no fancy phones...just
small nights in the summer
existing purely for the joy of forgetting,
the soft darkness washing all the walls
hard strumming and fingers sore, steel strings,
passing the hard hours for the late night
trying purely for the joy of forgetting
and remembering perhaps not to.
-Armando Torres

Like Always

"Like Always"
I look out to the city
from across the way
and know that somewhere
you're there,
even maybe
looking back my way.
Eyes connecting
in painful ignorance
never allowed
to realize each other.
Just to sit
and think to ourselves
that maybe
one day
everything will go away.
Or perhaps
it's just me thinking.
I look out to the city
and try to ignore
the thoughts of you
looking back at me.
I know you're there
but I will just stay
a ways away.
Like always.
-Armando Torres

Tuesday, December 17, 2013

like a flower

"like a flower"
we always take what we see
forgetting there is so much more
to the world
that cannot be seen,
like a seed to a flower,
beauty forever captured inside
to sprout and yet
perhaps it was never meant to be,
we forget the beauties
that exist beyond
the silvery veil
there where all things we remember to find
lay in wait,
but alas
we must always never forget
to question our own minds
and find that which the world
would hide for itself.
-Armando Torres

Monday, September 16, 2013

Too Long

"Too Long"
I've lived and I've lied,
I have hid from myself for too long
and now stand with tightly closed eyes
to find only
the infinite black
that lie before me,
I have come to realize
it is not so empty inside
only dark and full of hate
full of painful stains,
I have come to see
that which I thought
I would never witness.
So here I am
with all my pain and hate
waiting at your door
with eyes closed so tight
I have come to no choice
but to realize why.
-Armando Torres

Tuesday, May 21, 2013

Out There

"Out There"
The sun sits
beyond the blinds
lighting the world
I only peer upon,
from behind
the glass walls
of all shapes
and gazing at all the wonder
only for it to remind me
life moves on.
I stare out
and hear the echo
far away
and ponder upon
that sound of water
and forget all over again.
-Armando Torres

Wednesday, March 13, 2013

Well Beyond

"Well Beyond"
Somewhere there
in a far away land
between the draping trees and flowing grass
well beyond the frozen mountains
sits a man,
there where all exists upon a moment,
he sits waiting
upon a gilded throne
beyond the worries of normal men,
and perhaps
finds time a simple pleasure
to indulge and crush
between his fingertips
like the sands upon a beach
to make his will his own,
he sits head hung heavy
resting upon that fitted throne
perhaps to ponder
the specks of light
that peek out from behind the veil
only to have the night sky reveal to him
all the secrets it would keep from the minds of men,
his gaze extends well beyond the silvery ends of the majestic world
and finds all the answers forsaken to normal men
and looks out to each of us
over the frothy clouds and icy mountains
and smiles
realizing he never saw anything other than
what history had already painted over again.
-Armando Torres

Friday, March 1, 2013


Perhaps its been there longer
all the while
time grows around its corners,
hidden back behind 
the old moss and tall grass,
waiting in glorious patience
a past relic perhaps
gone from light and wonder
only to be discovered
in a time long since passed,
days now hold
only hollow reminders
that perhaps
its been there forever...
-Armando Torres

Sunday, January 20, 2013


An orb crashes upon the shores of creation, an orb of one shape and pure color pulls away from the monotony of silvery whites to find its will and way.  Forming from the whites and grays of its past splashing now among the swirls of curves and lines of intersecting contradiction perhaps tempting it to seize a moment from the sea and form in its infancy, the ancient pillars of imagination and find the simple lines of all kinds of beauty entwined, forming the perfect amalgamation of creation and chaos all for our eyes to settle upon.  Forever frozen perhaps somewhere along nature's design existing as a mastery of imagination.  An orb dripping lines and swirls of silvery whites and grays creating only what our mind can paint, it settles among the monotony of life and finds time has stopped and given memory to this piece of art.
-Armando Torres


Its not like a line of cotton thread or that of small lines from ink and pen where we discover all the things we find to ponder.  Perhaps it is the fabric of wonder where these lines of pen and pencil stay entwined to stay in place as a piece forever for our eyes to follow upon the splendid designs of fine lines.  For there exists upon the fabric of wondrous elegance a balance of real world design and artistry of reality on the very tips of imagination.  It is here where we find the threads of fabric to reality to pull upon given to our eyes to look upon and notice that time has stopped perhaps forever just for this beautiful composition that lay at the precipice of existence.  Hand to paper leading with pencil and pen erasing all the restrictions we face upon peering over realism we finally realize its not like a line of cotton thread or that of small lines from ink and pen but instead only that which our mind can paint.
-Armando Torres