The superstition of coincidence

"The superstition of coincidence"

Outside of our ethereal bodies

there are no meanings

but only moments.

The illusion of regret

lives only 

within our hearts,

look long enough

for a reason

and superstition

will find you.

Forcing purpose to fade

and meaning manifesting

to take its place,

leaving now a moment

in the cosmos

forever yours.

So I wonder then

the meaning

of this sadness within my core,

because I know the superstition of coincidence

can give meaning

where there was none before.

I sit here with this autumn chill 

upon my icy cheeks

where it finds its meaning 

from my sadness

and know my suffering goes

unwitnessed.

And yet beneath this tree

among the falling autumn leaves

I find these tears of mine

mean nothing

but the sympathetic connection

to this moment,

serving as both memory and meaning,

but both do not exist outside my mind,

only the superstition of coincidence

has pushed relevance

into this unseen moment.

Where I exist.

Forever.

Unseen with only meaning.

-Armando Torres

keep smiling

"keep smiling"

I'm not wearing my misery and depression well these days.
My face
wants you to see the smile, the grin, the laugh,
But the facade
Isn't holding up and it's crumbling down now.
My tears and sorrow and pain
are in my eyes for all to see,
But.
I just keep smiling.
Gritting my teeth until my gums bleed.

The world finally feels too much for me.
The shame I feel for my pain
Is finally too much for me.
Everything feels too far away
to go back. 

Too hard to turn around.

All those bad ideas
don't seem so bad right now.
The easiest way out of this world
Seems like release.
That sounds pretty good to me.
-Armando Torres

Pâro

"Pâro"

this winter wind has me convinced that I cannot be happy,
just lost in thought,
searching but never moving.
-Armando Torres

I stand here

"I stand here"
I stand here not scared
but
keenly aware I have a color labeled to me,
somewhere in their commentary
color became a way
to buy my attention,
a notion for awareness,
to tell me that they cared,
I stand here not scared
but
exhausted at looking out,
to all these faces and wondering are they racist?
I have gone through most of my life
having to prove
I am not the things they think,
not attached to the colors they see,
I stand here wondering now,
is it too much,
to ask,
for all these faces to prove to me
they are not racist?
There are seams in society
with just enough room to fall in to,
where a few lose their identity
and there is no solace in any narrative,
just the lingering desire,
to want to feel accepted.
-Armando Torres

...

"..."
I've existed in silence for too long,
emerging to find
the words I knew are all gone,
     I don't recognize
the face I see
in this mirror,
there's a lifelessness to its appearance,
a strangeness I'm not familiar,

Existential doubt seems to linger
on the fringes
of my every thought,

Am I not the person 

     That I thought I was,

Just then, 

     my reflection seems to move
before I do...

 That thought...

Terrifies

Perhaps the time I spent in silence,
I was lost in obscurity and forgotten,
Maybe they all lost the thought of me,

there's fear in my bones,
a dread 

     That if I open my door,
there will be nothing,
only the empty feelings of all my actions,

Just then, 

     I feel my reflection move again,
before I do,

As if no control existed in my being
     my head turns to the door,

before I do,

What if the world is still there?
What if all the blank stares
still exist,

I feel my hand reach out to the knob
without me doing so,
Existential dread builds in my every bone,

I hope its not,
     I hope its all 

          not there,
My reflection takes one last look at me
before smiling, 

     It Finally reaches and opens the door.
-Armando Torres

early mornings

"early mornings"
Underneath the early morning hues
     of blue and grey and orange,
          the morning mists begins to form,
appearing over the ground
like a ghostly haze,

The first chirps of birds
can be heard in the distance
     as a cool breeze
          swims in over the trees,

There is a hint of regret
     on my heart,

Somewhere in this dreary
          damp morning
               there is beauty to be seen,
     but I only feel
the burn of another sleepless night
     sting
           my eyes
                with every blink,
                     I don't see the morning,
I feel the ache in my bones only,
the tossing and turning that has become so routine only,
          my sunken eye sockets that feel normal now
     is the morning that exists for me,

Someone somewhere is seeing a beautiful sunrise
as the mist evaporates,
giving way for the light to shine the day,

but not me.

I only see the dreary morning hues give way
      for another shitty day.
-Armando Torres