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.

Emulsion

"Emulsion" They said I should grieve but instead I swallowed it like a lump of coal; painfully pushing it through scratching everything on the way down leaving traces of itself on every part of my soul.

-Armando Torres

Would You?

"Would You?" If you lost me how would you feel? Would you have a hole that you would quickly fill? Or would you remember me and any of the things we were and get glimpses of them when you passed places we had been? Would you see the foggy images of past memories in your dreams? Would you randomly feel the loss while in the shower and close your eyes to reminisce in the moment at the happiness we once had? Would you look at a blue sky from between the trees like we used to and listen to the leaves sway... ...allowing the hurt to touch briefly just so you could cry a few more tears and move on with your day? If you lost me would there be anything left of the happiness or would it all just be hurt? Would it be just misery disguised as lessons learned? Would I be anything of worth?

-Armando Torres

With or Without

"With or Without" When was the last time I even looked up at the sky, took a moment for myself and really existed away from memory to enjoy what I actually see, to really be present away from all the pain and all the hurt, without all the burdens, I can't even remember what that felt like, to look at the trees and have my mind blend into the vibrant hues of browns and greens, to see the baby blue sky right behind the swaying leaves, to feel life move around me as I breathe in the crisp fresh air, I can't even say when the last time the world existed for me in that kind of capacity, it's all tones of gray and muted colors, dull pain and counting dollars, going to work and grinding through the stress of another day that doesn't look anything like I remember, And Perhaps, in the end, I am the memory, and world is there, just like it always has been, with or without me.

-Armando Torres

Retrospection

"Retrospection" If there was a time where I didn't feel broken I don't remember it, Don't know when that could have been because as far back as my mind can stretch isn't that far past the present, I sense that these cracks in my mind have become the wrinkles of my soul, Not something to fix but more a part of my identity, My burdens have become more a part of me than any sense of accomplishment, more reflected than any smile I can stretch across my teeth, I don't know what life is like to be happy, the closest I get is when I forget about all the hurt and all my burdens and I can breathe finally and I can experience mere moments of peace before it all starts flooding back in, if there was a time where it wasn't like this, I don't remember it.

-Armando Torres

Dual Points

"Dual Points"

Below a moonlit sky 

my eyes slowly close 

as I inhale as much cool air 

as my lungs can hold,

Keeping it for a moment 

until my heart beats 

through my chest 

and my blood surges 

through my essence,

I find I can only see you 

in the black 

behind my eyelids,

I can only feel you 

and your soul 

inside my beating heart,

The world falls away 

and a surging sense of purpose 

fills my soul,

Let me carry you 

when all is too heavy,

Let me show you 

the persistence of hope 

when everything feels too bleak,

I know how to look 

into your eyes 

and see your soul,

I can exist with you 

when 

the tinge of pain 

on silent lonely nights 

glides in

and the world has left you 

with all 

the echoes of thought,

I can hold you 

and brush away the silence 

and say I love you,

I need you,

I can find you 

among the existential starways 

of billions of glimmering points of light,

   within 

the spectrum of infinite colors 

of the cosmos,

I can find your shimmering existence 

as your soul pulls mine,

I can feel you now 

below a moonlit sky 

as the air of the night 

finally releases from my being

and my eyes open

showing you

my glimmering points of light

as they shine back my soul

to yours.

-Armando Torres

A Brief Glimpse

"A Brief Glimpse"

The long hours of the night

drape over me 

like a large wool blanket 

laying heavy 

on my shoulders

pulling my frame 

toward the floor

hunching over

as my head aches downward,

An unspoken melancholy 

hangs within my eyes,

Some say 

I can see the future

and others believe me to be cursed,

   warning to never venture 

      near me

or else one can find 

      their life 

being forever tainted

with 

ill content and suffering,

I cannot see the future 

for the gleam in my eyes

are of past sorrows 

   and can only see 

   the mistakes that have 

passed 

   from this moment to the next

riding on the grains 

of sand in the hour glass,

For I cannot even see the grains 

before the decision 

and yet 

some say 

I carry their fate

within the wools of my shroud 

that forever lays heavy 

over my shoulders;

      but no fate exists 

that hasn't already been made,

I can only look upon those 

that have passed 

and only show what was,

I hold no power or intention, 

I am and therefore you are,

Yet Perhaps there is no future 

and peering into the past is the only future we have,

   confusing deeds done 

   for deeds that will be,

Then perhaps, 

it may be that 

   I can indeed 

   see the future

      and those tales told 

   do hold some truth

to them.

-Armando Torres

Take A Breath

"Take A Breath" A very potent mix of emotion and dread mixes with my blood dilating my eyes as the air in my lungs slips out from between my lips like silky lines of mist. The skin over my eyelets slowly slide closed as I catch my next gasp of breath filling my entire chest where it holds for what feels like eternity pretending like it's the edge of death allowing me to sink away in the absence of the motion of it. Falling deeper and deeper still into a darkness of calm as galaxies and nebulas pass me by, swirling vortexes of reality and light dissipate into black and finally the air in my chest releases and my eyelids pull back as my newly formed eyes begin to again glimpse the world with calm again.

-Armando Torres

Faintest Anxiety

"Faintest Anxiety" There is a thought inside a memory somewhere for me, however, it is unreachable now as it has passed this moment. A notion I can still feel but can't remember, It grips my heart like a white knuckled fist but it only exists on the fringes of my emotions. Clinging to relevance hoping I remember but not realizing it's too late. I don't know where it is or where it came. It's gone. It needs to know there is no hope. I have to move on but can't. It grips my heart like a fist over an edge clinging to life not realizing it will pull me over instead.

-Armando Torres

Back Into The Ether

"Back Into The Ether" I wish I could exist outside the moment, away from the violent colors of reality and inside the gray hazy mist of memory, To be able to peer in at any point and dissipate back into the ether once all things have become too much again, A being existing in its cocoon recharging and waiting to return at the right moment, to leave its fingerprints on the flow of events and leave as if never even here.

-Armando Torres

Fleeting Winter Flakes

"Fleeting Winter Flakes"

The soft crunch of snow 

   beneath my feet

   feels like it did then

   only for me to remind myself

that time has gone by,

   fleeting winter flakes

fall from the sky

and I have begun

to blur the lines

of what you were

   to me,

somewhere amidst 

all this descending white

on the buildings

over the sidewalks 

    and covering 

    the tops of trees,

our past still exists for me,

a ghostly motion of us

moving

among these snowflakes

existing 

right before my eyes

for mere moments 

before disappearing

amongst 

a million other flakes of snow

remembering once more

that we were 

a lifetime ago.

-Armando Torres

All Over Again

"All Over Again"

Knock on the Devil's door 

long    enough 

and something      will      answer.

You will need    more 

than what you brought 

to exist              beyond 

that moment of confrontation.

Time will s t r e t c h infinetly backward 

and extend in w a y s 

where only the moment 

you experience in memory

as the present 

could be used to break you.

Every   memory 

will      exist 

at    the    same    time 

with every painful one 

being at the forefront.

The    suffering 

would    only    be 

the    first    thing 

you    would    know.

    The very essence of despair 

would come through 

   your own stream of time 

among the existential 

and the conscious.

You wouldn't realize 

at    first 

but   would   come 

to     know 

that this process 

is    only     nature. 

A    process As    natural 

as the birds eating  seeds 

or maggots         Feasting 

upon rotting flesh.

A system of balance 

where life 

is only a piece 

of a much larger machine.

There's nothing humane 

in the way 

it would happen;

   humanity is but only 

   a futile construct of defiance 

   to the natural order of things.

A necessary piece to the machine, 

   an illusion of struggle 

   to make 

   a more powerful connection

and nevertheless,

to never change the outcome,

to never change 

    what you will become.

The existential flesh 

of your mind 

would very precisely 

be flayed and stripped away,

leaving behind 

something different.

Leaving eyes 

coated over 

   with black 

   and no pupils,

leaving a dark sheen 

of infintie existence 

glinting with its own 

swilring galaxies 

and cosmic pillars 

of stardust and creation.

A being of purity 

that has at long last 

inside infintiy 

found its purpose,

   existing now in its final form

   to finally hear 

   the next knock on the door,

to finally reach with purpose 

and answer 

and begin this process once more.

-Armando Torres

Singularity

"Singularity"

Pull back far enough 

from this moment

and you lose all beauty 

into a single point.

   The details disappear into memory.

      All the hurt and the pain and the joy.

Every    thing shrinks 

into a single speck

that disappears 

against the backdrop 

of black         ether.

So many pale points 

of pure thought

gone and lost

among so many more.

Close your eyes 

and stretch infinetly outward

away from this moment 

and everything is lost 

to a single dot

indistinguishable to any kind of detail.

Life,    consciousness,Existence, 

all move past 

a horizon of no           return

and continue 

toward a      singularity 

that you   can     never 

move closer toward.

As you continue 

to pull back 

so far    into 

the Infiniteness of Irrelevance

immaterial becomes the observer 

and you lose 

  the   sight     that  once   saw

all those beautiful moments and details 

    to   the    infinite     black,

never to find 

your 

pale point of pure thought again,

never to venture 

toward the horizon 

to find your singularity.

As   you      just 

dissapate into nothingness 

and dissolve into the liquid

and waves of pure inconsequentiality.

-Armando Torres

That Place

"That Place"

It was night

when I finally finished cleaning.

   You had left long before now,

   weeks before me.

I packed all the boxes 

of things you left,

of things you told me 

to donate away.

I painted over 

the holes 

in the walls.

Cleaned the kitchen. 

Closed the blinds.

Walked through 

and looked at all the empty corners.

This place was what was left

and we are both leaving separately.

   All those emotions experienced here 

      are now among the walls,

among the silence and shadows.

Everything we said and felt

belongs now 

to the history of this space.

Right before I turned out the lights,

That last glimpse I took

I saw all 

the echoes of memory 

dance

through the hallways and the rooms.

Cried as I stood there 

for a second 

remembering

most our moments we spent there 

living our life together.

   But I, only stand here now 

   as a spectator 

watching it play out 

beyond the here and now,

   as only remnants of a happier time,

trying my damndest

to ignore what went wrong.

But I will take with me 

only what will hurt

and leave behind 

all the pleasant parts

because they won't come.

They belong there in the end anyway,

unspoiled,

for the silence and the walls.

We had our moments 

and now have both moved on.

I wonder every now and again 

where you are

but then the parts 

I took with me from that moment

come flooding back in 

and I choose not to remember you.

You're so far away from me now

that I don't know what you look like.

Don't know your name.

Don't even remember things you liked.

I do still remember that place, however.

Where it is. What it looks like.

   The off color of white the walls were painted.

   The stains on the carpet from the wine we spilled.

   The way the bed faced the window from the other end.

   The layout of the bathroom with the shower by the door.

The nights we took showers together 

and made love 

dripping in water.

Laid together on the couch 

as the sun dipped below the horizon.

The way the light shined 

through the kitchen window 

when we made breakfast for each other.

Oh no, There I go, remembering you again.

I can't anymore.

I choose not to think about you.

I won't remember you.

I choose not to remember you.

But 

sometimes I think 

I took too much with me from that place.

Maybe even stole some of those pleasant memories.

But I did it

Just so when I cry

I can find my reasons why.

-Armando Torres

I can't leave

"I can't leave" I close my eyes and there in the black I am distracted by the images and shapes that appear from nothing to paint stories I don't remember but somehow feel familiar. It's odd, the sensations beneath my fingertips feel real, I can feel the walls of this giant city, the grass against my palms, the scent of autumn in my nose. There's something in me that knows this is a dream and another part that seems to be real to me. I lose my sense of time if I linger in here too long then I find the waking world far more strange than when I left it before. I am becoming desensitized to the regular sensations of this real place. I'm being tempted by the unfamiliar that exists when I leave here. My ability to differentiate between you and the person I've come to know in my dream has dwindled and the foggy line between when I'm awake or asleep has all but disappeared. I feel everything from everywhere and I'm so very tired. The people here only serve to hurt. I'm more afraid of the deceit here than the lies I have created for my eyes. It all feels so real there. I'm so far removed anyway that my broken soul cannot heal here. All the reminders seem to disappear when I'm gone. I think I will make peace inside there instead of here. So I lay myself down to sleep knowing this will be the last time I see this waking world. I'm trading the sensations of the here and now for some different kind of experience where I can make what I feel into what is real. I close my eyes and I think this is my dream. However, There's something here I don't quite remember seeing. Something quite unfamiliar. A being separate from me. It's not doing what I want it to do, isn't being what I want it to be. I don't think this is my dream. This isn't my dream. This is something different. I can't feel my reality. I can't pull my mind to awaken. What have I done? I can't leave. I can't wake up. Someone. Anyone! Come find me. Please. Help me. I can't leave.

-Armando Torres