Thursday, September 29, 2022

Far Beyond





"Far Beyond" Somewhere among the distant dark, Beyond where the black stars hang Exists some sort of sentience, A kind of perception with eons of existence. Treating time as a superfluous indulgence to swim through intersecting from the now to the then only peering in for a moment to take its existential breath before disappear again. Some kind of thing floating outside of time among the cosmos passing by the waterfalls of stars and the pillars of creation, Watching cosmic lights dance and flicker as supernovas gleam and glimmer against the infinite darkness. An ever changing mass of amalgamative blackness, swirling and swaying just beyond perception. Pulsating with ancient purpose existing in size on a scale we could not comprehend. Swallowing whole solar systems within and leaving them inside an eternal darkness for millennia as it moved on in what for it would be but an instant. Experiencing reality inside moments we could never understand. Oblivious to insignificant blips of life that fizzle out with no trace they were even there. This sentience lives among the blackness of infinity, never to show itself to something like us. Existing so far beyond we could never comprehend.

Lighthouse





"Lighthouse"
There in the darkness
among an endless hazy fog
shines a source of guidance
from far off in the distant dark.

Even as the sky 
is shrouded from view
with all its stars 
hidden
behind a thick murk
a lighthouse stands
parting with its light
the heavy mist 
of fear and hinderance.

An infinite sense of resignation
seems to blanket
every breath we take
as the sways of the water
   pushes and pulls
us
away 
   from our beacon
of light
   as forward 
   becomes lost 
among the endless
misty black 
   of fog.

But there 
   in the darkness
the resilient beam of light
   we have followed 
   shows us the way forward
before again 
the sways of doubt 
   tips and leans
us 
more toward 
the haze 
above these murky waters
that extend forever 
in every direction.

And yet
there,
standing tall still
is our tower of light
shining
our source of guidance,
reminding us
   which way is forward,
   which way is right.
   Which way for us to go.
-Armando Torres

Saturday, September 24, 2022

For Fear





"For Fear"
I don't look 
at anyone 
in the eyes 
for fear they may 
   discover the sadness 
   I'm hiding 
   just behind 
the glossed sheen in my own.

The weight of its
slow, solemn ache 
is hidden inside my bones 
below my thin 
delicate skin 
hoping 
the shamefull sadness 
does not find a path 
up 
toward my eyes 
and release itself 
from within me 
into perfect 
crystal salt drips 
for all the world to see,

I don't look at anyone anymore, 
   let alone 
   their keen eyes. 
I'm too scared 
to even look 
into my own 
for fear 
I may see something 
I have  tried to ignore.  

I have chosen to not see 
and instead have watched 
as my thoughts 
form what I perceive 
what the world will be,
and I stay back behind
a carefully crafted
perception
that if I stay just still enough,
the world will just forget about me.
I can finally never worry
about all those eyes
looking
and I can restfully
close my own
never having to look
into them again.
-Armando Torres

Antiques





"Antiques" My words have finally seemed to dissolve away from me like fizz in water, dissipating into almost nothing, like it was never even there. My thoughts have become memory and my feelings like scars that have almost faded away into the rest of my skin. It's all safe now, all those things I used to think tucked away
undeneath
all my other things, far away and
back behind the separation of time. They are now just intricate antiques to look at, to only be placed safely back on the shelf as I move from piece to piece and aisle to aisle.

My Howling





"My Howling" A howling exists in my heart, I feel its rage, its ache, I can feel its primal, feral, existence as it sends its angry sorrowful howls to the muted walls of my heart, Where only I can hear, Where only I can feel every moment of its pain as it desparately tries to be heard outside of the prison I have kept it in. It begins its howling moans once again upon my soul as it bellows long drawn cries trying to manifest itself againsy my will, creating claws, teeth, fingers and a face, shredding at the walls, ripping and scratching to get out, roaring with gnarled rage. There's a howling that exists in my heart, and I will not let it get out, for the sake of myself, and perhaps for the sake of others.

Just Then





"Just Then" I've existed for too long, emerging from silence only 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, like another person looking back at me. Existential doubt seems to linger on the fringes of my every thought now. Am I not the person That I thought I was? Or am I just the reflection looking out to the world mimicking the words for the sounds they make. But just then, my reflection seems to have moved before I do... Just then... That thought... Terrifies. Perhaps the time I spent in silence, I began to dissolve to be lost into obscurity and forgotten. Maybe they all lost the thought of me. Perhaps I no longer exist. But 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, only the reflection of my life that already happened. And Just then, I feel my reflection move again, before I do, before I gave it its will and way. Just then, it moves without me. As if no control existed in my being. I see My head turn to the door before I do. BUT What if the world IS still there? What if all the blank stares STILL exist? I begin to feel my hand reach out to the knob without me doing so. Existential dread builds in my every bone. I hope the world is not, I hope its all not there, Just then... My reflection takes one last look at me before smiling, And Finally reaching and opening the door.

What I Was





"What I Was" There was a silence that followed me as a shape, it lingered around on the edges of most sounds creating a ghostly figure and outline of some invisible being, feeling it only through the muffling it created of the world's tones. That was yester year however, and it has been some time since I felt your silence. Then I question, what is this I feel; this presence that exists. It lingers at the edges of every room. Follows when I move. I don't know what this is but I do think I know, it is not you. I would have gone most my days without ever noticing it but today, I felt a difference in this presence. Something malevolent in its intentions. Then I felt you again just for an instant, but only as a muffled feeling. Like you had been consumed by this thing. I fear it watches me, waiting for a moment to slide its shadowy presence into my being so that I may carry it until the day I die. As it feeds on me like a parasite and I become a hollow husk of what I was. Perhaps, it is why my dreams have recently been plagued by my memories of you. You reach out to me with your energy but only for it to transform me into you. I realize now, you have been feeding on me for some time. I have no more of me to fight you off. I am just eyes looking through a window as I watch the world pass by. Seeing my life from a distance back behind the glass lenses of my eyes alone inside a dark room. I feel your presence now in the absence of me. I see you now clearer than before when you take us before a mirror. I feel you now more than I feel me. I feel you now more than every other thing.

Monday, September 19, 2022

Marked





"Marked"
A lunar gloom 
glows through
the cotton clouds above,
   illuminating an otherwise
   deathly deep black sky
   that hovers over the world
   suffocating the light
   we shine
back toward the sky.

The milky white glow
of the moon
shines
as the howls of the night
grow in strength 
from a far off distance,
    And all manners of mystery 
begin
to take shape 
among the shadows of no form.

Fears of every kind 
grow
and splinter through
the fabric of our rationality 
and the ooze of darkness
drips into even the most well lit homes this night.

Tendril fingers of malice and evil 
stretch along all surfaces
as the glow of our lunar orb 
slowly fades and gets swallowed
by the darkness of the night.

Something grows in the black
that hangs above,
Something watches 
as it floats through your windows,
   peeks into your home,
   plants its stains upon your soul,
Stretching equally in every direction,
Reaching for your fears 
as it leaves
you marked 
as it passes,
Letting you know 
   it will return again.

You are not safe from it.
Even in the most secluded of rooms 
with the most well lit lights,
You are not safe 
   as it will come and touch again.

It will find us all 
as it wanders the world
with no purpose
other than to remind us
that we are not safe
and will never be
no matter where we go
as it reminds
that it has no cure.
-Armando Torres

A Figment of My Imagination

"A Figment of My Imagination" I'm not fighting against your memory, I'm fighting against the notion that perhaps you were right about me, The pain has long since subsided but I look in the mirror sometimes and everything behind me fades to a ghostly blur where figments play out as echoes of my regrets, They overlay themselves on things that were real and I begin to believe that perhaps maybe, those awful things you said about me were perhaps true. You, the person have long since left but the figment of your presence is still felt, tempting me to believe what it says is real, It has become an ugly, terrifying amalgamation of self-doubt, regret and fear, Its horrifying face watches me from the corner hoping I catch a glimpse of it so that it may weave another tale of my past to torture me with. I don't even really remember you anymore, all I see is this echo of you, this figment of my imagination.

-Armando Torres

A ways Away

"A ways Away" I've come to realize I relish in being miserable, for I now know it is only in those moments I can find the beauty of the world; Only willing to see it from a distance rather than being among it; Just a ways away, back behind the distant and faintest of memories, existing far off becoming long and dim and almost gone to gray. Too distant to ever want to be a part of it again. However, I feel I could only ever find that beauty to see if I were a ways away, like a painting with its beautiful brushstrokes and elegant colors, standing steps back to see its whole existence open bare for me to witness. Only then would I believe in the beauty, Only then would I relish my misery just as I do; Just so the world can be beautiful to me. But only if I stand a ways away. Only then.

-Armando Torres

Just For Us

"Just For Us" There's something safe inside nostalgia, Something we all remember being, A stretch of time where we still felt the whole of our lives could still be filled with what we wanted to be. Time has a way of being full of possibilities and empty of them at the same time. Back when I was a kid something I realize now is that everyday were full of if's and when's and then's, And now so many painful what if's ; So full of happy memories and what could have been's, I remember when mornings on the weekends --first thing would be, I would lift the cordless phone because my mom loved them, and dialing from memory all my friends to try and make plans for the day. Nothing mattered as long as we each said we could hang. Lazy sundays with my sister waiting for my dad to start the barbeque. Oh yes, there is something safe inside nostalgia and the reasons why I still love going to the movie theater, Or enjoying a backyard barbeque with my friends, Grabbing snacks and watching the same shitty horror movie again and again, Listening to the same songs over and over until the last second just to repeat it again on a sony walkman. There are moments in time we all have where we find what feels safe enough to open up to nostalgia and we become us again, --if only just for us.

-Armando Torres

Only A Distance Away

"Only A Distance Away" I can't keep up, my legs won't let me keep chasing; My lungs burn as I breath in gulps of air screaming to the sky with clenched fists and the pain of your memory in my eyes, I stop and stand there now, under these ominous gray clouds looking up watching as the storm gathers above teasing me to give up, The pain and hurt have become too much and my knees buckle to the ground as the burn in my throat pushes up gasps of tears asking the heavens, why? I look for you there in those clouds, still chasing the sky, running after you somewhere in those floating cotton shapes, But I can't anymore, these are the last slobbering gasps of agony I can let you have, the very tissue of my muscles have torn away from my legs, the very air I breath hurts me, I can't anymore. I lay here now, tattered and tired eyes upward toward those ominous gray clouds looking for your face; but only find it a distance away.

-Armando Torres

Out There

"Out There" The sun sits beyond the blinds lighting the world I only peer upon, Looking from behind the glass walls of infinite shapes and gazing at all the wonder only for it to remind me life moves on. I stare out and hear an echo from far away only to question if it's from inside my mind or from the world I stay away from. Are the sounds I hear real or just spellbound thoughts there to haunt? I fade out into the black that lay between my eyes and the existence I once had, to finally come across the sound of water and the lovely buzzing of bees among the scent of pines and memory, I ponder upon that sound of water and see the swirling colors of reminiscence splashing and forming together an image I remember all for it to just evaporate into the ether and I end up forgetting all over again.

-Armando Torres

I'm Tired

"I'm Tired" I feel it at the edges of my being, that extra exhausted feeling, the weariness in my knees, the tired tug and pull of my joints, the sandy grind in my bones, It seeps in from the outer edges and saturates everything about me. I tend to forget to give tenderness to my fingers and elbows, and they become upset with me, and begin to hurt, I rub them firm, massage the ache lingering in the tissue, moving the muscles with my thumbs as the pain releases its hold if only for a second. I reach for some lotion and stretch out the tightness in my muscled knots, my eyes feel the salty burn of day as I rub the sting to the sides of my eyes, I try to find relief in bed but only make it to the couch and collapse to sleep, The wear of the day has caught up to me and nothing else matters. I'm tired and my body has let me know it needs to recover but only for it to still feel tired in the morning.

-Armando Torres

Before We Get Too Old

"Before We Get Too Old" Let's take a chance, You and I, before we get too old. To look at seconds past together and remember stories we had hand in hand, To have those walks through the neighborhood just to watch the leaves sway on the elder oak, I want to know every little thing you like and have breakfast ready in the morning because I get up early and you like to sleep in, For you to show me your garden of plants and herbs you grew in the yard we had for years, Lets have each other's backs and inspire one another, To tackle life together before enough time passes and we forget what we ever felt for each other, Let's take a chance and be bold, You and I, before we get too old.

-Armando Torres

What It Felt Like

"What It Felt Like" I remember what that felt like, when the world felt infinitely huge and yet every corner of it at any point felt within my reach just whenever I decided to move for it. Distant lands passed the silky haze laying over the distant mountains existing among the frothy clouds hundreds of miles away. A world of wonder that got me thinking that perhaps the things I read were true. Dragons and orcs and wizards existed just beyond the horizon. What it felt like to get fifty dollars for your birthday to do with it what you wanted. To be in the yard drenching sprinkler wet but yet it was actually from a thunderstorm battle among the gods settling a dispute of who should rule. To go to bed with the world within your reach. It's why I give my niece a hundred dollars and gifts on her birthday, so she can tell me tales of her adventures and I can remember what it felt like.

-Armando Torres

Secrets

"Secrets" There are so many internal battles being fought in private, ...just below the surface. Struggles no one will ever see. Emotions guarded behind an impenetrable fortress. Internal dialogues no one will ever hear. Only the hints and whispers of thoughts and fears. Only the very tips of mountainous icebergs will be seen. Nothing fully formed. Only the impression of someone's existence. And somehow those things are supposed to be accurate representations of how we feel. Somehow, my mistakes are supposed to be my identity. Somehow, the little that I show is who I am; truly. Even though, everything beneath the surface is more me than anything this reality can represent. I do find some comfort however in knowing that these strangers will never truly know me. In the end, secrets define us whether by revealing them or keeping them hidden.

-Armando Torres

There Was A Time

"There was a Time" I look down and the ground disappears, everything becomes a blur of color and sound, purely on the periphery of where my mind can exist, It is here where I usually see you again, as a thought, an essence, a boundless idea floating among the nostalgic waves of memory. I walk among the swaying trees, as the sting of the heat softens and the cool hues of every shade of blue and violet have spread up and over the horizon. The rhythmic pull of the ocean pushes the glittering embers of light of yellow and white over and back across the surface of the water toward the shores and back into the sea disappearing again in a flicker against the sandy rocks. There was a time where I could see none of this, A time where your echoes would be the only thing, but now the ground fades to blur and I find the softness of a cool summer breeze brings me a smile.

-Armando Torres

Shadow People

"Shadow People" My eyes roll forward from sleep as the skin that lay overtop pulls back revealing the room to me, but doing so doesn't wake my body from the cavernous black in which I was sleeping; I can move Nothing on my anatomy, as I push for the strength to budge even an inch, I'm just a disembodied consciousness at this point filling quickly with terror. My eyes continue to dart around the corners of the room, And then I see it, there in the corner, motionless, just staring from behind a featureless black face, A body of darkness pulled directly from the void, My whole being helpless and in complete paralysis, even the smallest parts of me cannot move, only my eyes as I watch this thing watch me from the corner. I can feel the screams building inside my throat, but they cannot escape, it's just turbulent air pushing against my windpipe, It doesn't care, it just stands there, staring, watching, a terrifying essence emanating from it, My existence begins to feel the pull, to the edges of the void, as my mind continues to tumble toward it, overwhelming panic and terror engulfs my every inch of consciousness, I cannot even think outside of the complete terror as I watch more of them come in, as I watch these shadow people glimpse into me.

-Armando Torres

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 somewhere and yet perhaps it is not... Maybe it's what I tell myself in those lonely moments where nothing exists except me and my thoughts. The darkness lingers longer than it should with the swell of all my tears brimming at the edges but I just hide it deep so far beneath these eyes of mine, that somehow it lost itself somewhere inside... Some kind of sorrow I forgot to feel, even though I know deep down; I did not.

-Armando Torres

In This Moment

"In This Moment" It is perhaps this dark and dreary night that I'm sitting here again reaching this whiskey's end. I erase my mind of you every time I take another drink. I don't want to feel you anymore. I don't want to have to think. I want to feel another night without the presence of your memory. I want to be able to dream without you finding me. To navigate through the frothy clouds to some emerald gate. To find my way through the shimmering points of pale light scattered across the night sky. To fly among them and touch them like fingers to a flowing river. To crash through one moment to find another on the other side without ever fearing your memory will find me. Somewhere among the textures of time and memory I sit waiting existing already with you as only something I left behind. However, I'm still here with the earliest memories of it and only the empty sensation of what feels real from it all left just for me in this moment.

-Armando Torres

Early Fucking Mornings

"Early Fucking Mornings"
I sit in the quiet darkness of morning; just reminiscing. The birds have begun to sing their songs, chirping their lyrics from the power lines. The dark blues above start to give way to the warm hues of sunrise. So many moments begin to swell behind my weary eyes as I drink my coffee this morning while remembering faded glimpses of my youth. Time has washed away everything of worth and has left the wreckage of a life held together barely by only memories. So many regrets, so many thoughts both happy and wretched. It's too much in the morning some days, too much to look in the mirror at my face and see my hollowed out eyes surrounded by circles of dark shades in grey skin tones. Too much to feel every ache and pain of memory in my bones. Too much to feel every ragged and worn out pull of my joints, Too much to hear every echo of thought from years gone, So I grab the bottle of vodka and serve a glass over ice, It's only half passed nine and already I can't handle life.
-Armando Torres

Everyone Says The Same Thing

Everyone says the same thing, "THIS is real, right now, this. This is reality. I'm real, you're real." But how do they know for sure? How can I be certain? It all can just be a byproduct of my mind trying to cope with the physics of a dream world. Am I dreaming right now? The last thing I remember is dying. I died. I know I did. At least I think I did. Did I? So how can this be? How can I be? This all could be memory so vividly dancing among the existential rhythms and waves of recollection. Some kind of simulation for my senses until that last bit of entropy finally flickers out and this memory becomes faded. Until it too just becomes darkness fading out into echoic whispers engulfed into an infinite black. Just a blip into the unremembered. Yet still, Everyone says the same thing. This is real. This right now.

Another Night





"Another Night" Another night of beer; of sitting here away from myself, trying to pull relevance from my day, Trying to find the guts to love, to go on, to talk about that one time, To linger at the edge of my glass only to hide behind this pint, To order another and drink it fast before I realize these stories of mine are beginning to wear thin, Oh shit, I've gone and had too much again, Now I'm here by myself and one quick look into the bathroom mirror and it's all gone, it's that sour smell again, Fuck, It's been another night, and I find I've gone and wasted another day waking up to the morning rays.
-Armando Torres