sanctum (second draft)

"sanctum"

I keep my little slice of meaning

hidden away deep 

inside 

somewhere,

away from prying eyes.  

Some kind of truth that 

will be linked 

only to me for always.

   A meaning untainted 

   by the stains of a dirty world,

Something that can only be kept inside

and belong uniquely to me;

it's my own truth, 

my center, my sanity;

Never to be 

felt or known or touched

by anyone else;

Some kind of inspiration 

that has birthed all that I am, 

created solely

from all 

my own 

years of life,

Existing 

as a formless shape within my soul 

deep inside myself

swaying and flowing

through my blood and 

interconnected cells,

Even if the world were to try 

   to splay me open 

   and search for it 

   amongst

   my spilled out innards, 

it would never come to fruition, 

never becoming something 

for them to own 

for it would disappear 

just as quickly and fragile 

as mist on the wind;

Hazing out 

as soon as the air touched it.

Becoming another tragic thing lost 

to the greedy prying fingers 

of the world;

A sincerity that was mine 

and mine alone 

would be gone

leaving behind 

a husk of a person 

to walk the earth;

Woefully, with the more things I lose, 

the greater the distance 

between me and everyone else grows,

   leaving me to

   meander along

whatever is left of my time

here on earth

without my truth and my soul.

-Armando Torres

Fleeting winter flakes

"Fleeting winter flakes"
Sitting inside 
looking out 
through 
ice chilled windows 
as the snow falls outside.

The cold wintery bite
reaches inside 
touching 
the cold fringes 
of my nose and fingers,

The cool breath of Jack Frost
spreads across the glass
stretching crystals 
like a spider's web 
in 
from the edges 
of the window pane,

And just beyond
the exquisite crystalline shapes 
of every icy design
falls fleeting winter flakes
holding their uniquely 
single, 
once in lifetime existence 
type of shape,
   no two ever the same, 
a single moment in time
that will never exist again
falling as 
simple points of pale white.

Just irrelevant enough 
for us to never notice
yet beautiful enough 
to lament their absence. 

Moments so beautiful in their simplicity
and elegant in their creation
all existing for a brief instant 
for us to look upon 
through gilded eyes
their journey
as simple points of pale white.

Things i think i lost (version 2)

"Things i think i lost"

I think I must have lost 

my honesty 

somewhere on the wind

after I told you how I felt;

   I know I dropped 

   my courage 

   somewhere beside the road

   when I said 

   I could be that person for you;

I thought I had gained 

more than I was giving up

but ended up leaving behind

so many things 

not knowing I was changing;

   realizing now

   I never should have given away 

so easily

   all those things 

I wish I could have back;

You were my deconstruction.

   Pieces of myself started 

   to shake loose and fall off like 

   some kind of

   old machine still churning 

   and shaking

   for a purpose no longer important;

Trying to find myself again

I left behind 

my confidence 

below the white pine 

on the bench 

I used to visit

when sadness had me suffocating;

I lost my intellect 

at some bar 

in some glass 

I was drinking from, 

   my imagination vanished 

   when I set it down 

   on the corner of fifth, 

it must have been stolen 

or taken 

by mistake 

or I may have given it away; 

My optimism was pulled from me 

by the dreary cold of winter, 

gracefully touching its chill 

on my neck 

as I spent 

all those dark hours 

alone in bed;

Though

they continue to fall away 

like an old structure

missing its foundation

barely staying upright 

as time rots it 

away

around the edges and from within;

I stand upright 

still not broken 

missing pieces

though maybe only a little bent

but still not broken.

-Armando Torres

Wherefore

"Wherefore" Its in the darkness when it comes to visit, slithering its whispers around the night sounds, prowling among the black on the fringes of sight. The tiny hum of street lamps from outside reaches my ears as I sit and listen and wait to hear the whispers again. My eyes hang heavy deep inside my head painted with round dark rings. I can no longer see in this darkness. I'm bathed in it. It has washed all over me. The dreary midnight breeze from my opened window glides past my face and with it hanging on the edges of its air, the whispers come. I sit calmly and without worry staring forward from my heavy chair, arms hung over and head hung forward and eyes ahead. Nothing moves inside this night nothing except the spattered beauty of dripping red lines. Slowly painting a trail of absolution rolling downward unto the floor. The whispers talk amongst the shadows inside the room and outside among the trees beyond my window the glowing eyes peer in to look in at me. There's nothing for me. All I have left is this wall of defiant beauty and the body that painted it for me.

-Armando Torres

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.

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

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

I Wish I Knew...

"I Wish I Knew..." It's gone, all those days I just knew would never end. Gone...Goodbye... every time the day begins to end, remembering all over again, I remember because it's all still there just beneath my façade, it feels as if it never left. I wish we knew then how bad it would hurt because then love would likely be a game I would never have played. The taste of this bittersweet defeat lingers far longer than me never knowing. I would never know your kiss, never to feel the naked brush of your skin against mine. I would dine alone without your judgmental eyes, being glad I lived alone, I would sit on the couch by myself to watch television and laugh with the empty room, I would watch through my window as other couples passed never knowing that game they were playing, but always knowing deep down wishing really I knew what that felt like.

-Armando Torres

Malevolence v2.

"Malevolence"  

In the darkness that lingers   

around us all   

there exists something  

that tempts us,  

chooses us,  

and crushes us,  

inside a paradox of sweetest things.  

It knows  

when you think of it  

and pounces its whole existence  

at once  

to where ever welcomes it.  

It sits in your room  

waiting patiently  

looming ever closer  

as your mind wanders towards it.  

Knowing the very moment  

to engulf your reality  

overwhelming your mind  

in horrors  

you never wanted to see.  

It grants you  

that all you know  

has some truth  

for that would be your proof  

to believe,  

Because in all that was misleading  

in its words  

there would be a base  

to fake its truth to you.  

As your strength falters  

nothing you knew  

would hold true  

when the temptations  

finally overwhelmed you.  

You would never know  

you gave in so long ago  

before this moment,  

A failure it knows all too well,  

And savors on the taste of it.   

Beginning again  

your own demise  

behind your tired eyes  

of a few moments before  

you so blindly gave away  

all that was of worth,  

Its words have burned  

through your soul  

tearing apart  

your mind  

leaving the shell of a person,  

lifeless and hollow.  

A person who will never understand  

all they wanted to know.  

A person in eternal damnation  

of their own making,  

burning in the fires of misery  

Never knowing the lies  

were the the only truths  

they realized.

-Armando Torres

Somewhere Beyond

"Somewhere beyond"
Somewhere beneath these stars 

I stand a man 

looking back 

through the black 

that exists 

in between the pale specks of light 

spattered throughout the night sky. 

Somewhere beyond my comprehension

exists a lonely point of pale light 

shining its whole existence 

into my eyes 

in a flickering moment 

of irrelevance. 

And somehow

I found that moment

among other infinite moments

in the cosmos

blinking without comprehending 

this light's entire existence.

And yet, 

I also found my memories 

that adds relevance 

to this moment 

under these dim points of flickering light. 

My chest fills 

with something now,

more than just cold night air 

and my eyes let fall, 

something more than just tears. 

And somewhere beneath these stars 

I stand a man 

shining back 

his lonely point of pale light.

-Armando Torres

empty tears

"empty tears"
There in the dismal glow 

of the television screen 

he finds himself crying again 

not because it hurts 

But because it's there again. 

He sits silently inside his chair 

lost inside his own mind 

as the tv spits its hues of

blues and greens onto his face. 

A bottle of Jack 

sits by his side 

as his arm hangs 

over the armrest 

and his fingers dangle 

but a mere space away. 

The ice in his glass 

has long since melted 

but he prefers his whiskey warm anyway 

when the pain 

has him so torn. 

His whiskey stained tears 

roll down his face 

as he searches 

for the logic of this darkness. 

Remnants of the day 

no longer linger 

on his walls 

but the wear of the night 

hangs low under his eyes. 

His lips have not tasted 

a sweet touch 

for so long 

but find the bittersweet company 

of a warm whiskey bottle every night. 

The thick smell of tears 

and whiskey 

and sweat 

hang heavy in his room 

as he sits inside 

his own stench of bitterness 

to question his darkness 

as it knows all of his pain. 

Drenched 

in his own depressing filth 

he grabs that empty glass again 

and pours his liquid destruction again 

not because it hurts 

but because that pain is there again.

-Armando Torres

Orb

"Orb"

There at the genesis of eternity,
An orb crashes upon the shores of creation, 

an orb of pure 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 contradictions 

Perhaps 

tempting itself 

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 designs 

of beauty so entwined, 

Forming 

     the perfect 

          amalgamation 

               of creation and chaos 

all for our eyes to settle upon.  

Forever frozen this orb

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 finally settles 

among the monotony of life 

and finds time 

has stopped and given memory 

to its piece of art.

-Armando Torres

I bore witness

"I bore witness"

There on that throne of skin and bone

I dared to look at that which I dared to see,

I bore witness and from the darkness

moaned a voice "It has come to this,"

And standing where my feet will stay

I looked upon that devil

as it turned and said to me,

bare witness to this,

And a horrifying beast marched out from the darkness

with pain and suffering in follow

forged in the fires of My misery,

And standing where my feet will stay 

I looked upon that beast

as it snarled and said to me,

bare witness to this,

And a man in hooded shadow came forth

draped in blood and intimate sorrow,

Plagued by the haunting memories of my thoughts

he rots and cries those tears of things not,

And there under that hood of blood and pain

I dared to look to which he cried to me,

bare witness to this,

And all those thoughts of mine of my life

were plagued with stains of lies

I wished were true,

And I cried those tears of things gone

forever forgetting

I bore witness to this

to exist to experience it all over again,

I looked upon that devil

broken and bare

forever forgetting 

I had caused all this.

-Armando Torres

The Dead Night

"The Dead Night"

There I sit

in the quiet darkness of it all

Wondering how it came to this;

Hearing the tiny chirps of the crickets

outside the window seal

      and the soft midnight breeze

brush against the leaves.

Nothing is left

But the calmness of the night;

the dead calm of it all.

The night sky sitting above

Watching,

     with its thousands of glittering eyes,

The things we do

     to satisfy those moments of urge.

There I sit in silent darkness

with my witness above and my eyes below;

there to sit

     to wonder how it came to this.

I sit with my head hung low

inside my chair

whose squeaks are the only other noise

to slice the dead silence of black,

the calmness of night;

I can finally feel the cold chill of darkness.

Drip dripping the cold blood on my hands;

trickling to the floor

staining a deep red;

Drip dripping this cold blood not of my own;

Drip dripping this silence of night off my hands.

I stare with my head hung low

by the window seal

at the dead calm of it all.

I sit in darkness

wondering how it came to this

but realize the silence of my answer.

Nothing is left

but the calmness of this night.

-Armando Torres

As He Forever Forgets v2

"As He Forever Forgets"

Gone are the days of happier times

as he slides

a freshly sharpened knife

up and down

along his veins,

He knows every motion brings him closer

to a place

where everything from the present will be gone

and

he can finally forget.

But as time drips past

only the ugly hollow remains of now

stains his face,

He had wished it would have been different,

to feel the world in a healthy way.

But time continues to slip way

taking with it

all reality and his pain,

As he slowly starts to forget

what it was

that brought him to this place.

The tender slices

along his arms

only remind him now

of a life worth living.

The salty tears of regret

linger at the edges of his eyes,

Spilling over only 

when he remembers

another lovely memory.

Gone are the days of happier times,

His life now has been stripped down

to only the little sounds of night

and

the silence of a bathroom floor,

Only the days of here and now

pierce his soul

as time slowly drips

from his wrists.

Soon it won't matter,

he will not exist.

He forgets what now feels like

as another tear slips away

at another lovely memory.

Gone are the days and only

a silent night

on a bathroom floor is left.

Gone are all the regrets,

Gone are the sunsets

and everything he felt,

As he strays further away

And he forever forgets.

-Armando Torres

My Faintest Image v2

"My Faintest Image"

There you are in my faintest image,

in the corner of my mind.

There you are smiling back at me

forever forgetting me

And that life

we were once supposed to have;

nothing more now

than just 

a ghostly collage of memories.

They haunt me so deep.

I fight back these sorrow filled tears

just to remember them,

All those moments,

gone to time

but still here in the present

to remind me that all I want to say is...

I miss you.

But I would be the only one to hear it.

Though...

there you stay

in my faintest image.

Missing you and your smile,

the touch of your lips against mine,

the comfort your arms around me brings.

I miss you I do but

I'll never say it.

Everything we had in that life

that existed between us 

has fallen

into dark water,

Sinking further with every passing moment.

Reaching for it 

I 

have fallen in too.

I look up and watch you 

as I drown away

into infinite darkness,

grabbing wildly upward,

desperate to be remembered.

I miss you I do, but,

I'll never say it.

Sinking further down still,

into the dark of infinite,

your picture exists

in my faintest image,

haunting me,

making me cry tears

underwater

mixing my existence inside irrelevance,

where reality will never see,

All that is left in the end

of proof I was ever really here,

are the haunting echoes 

of your sweet

"I love you's"

-Armando Torres

The Early Morning Mist

"The Early Morning Mist"

In the early morning mist

that lingers around us while we sleep

lies in wait

a beautiful sunrise

although however

not yet.

First, the dull blues and grays

drip away

from night to day

letting us see

the early

haze of dawn,

the gentle shade of waking day.

A world waiting inside

the softly blended grays.

We forget the gloom beauty

of this morning mist

And instead lay in wait

for the day to arrive,

not realizing

these delicate hues

of dull grays and blues

hold their own beauty.

Instead, we wait

for the warmth of purples and oranges

to rise over the horizon

to paint away

with it

the morning haze.

We never look back

to acknowledge the beauty before,

only look forward

to the sunrise.

Never realizing

the beauty of those silvery

purples and oranges

could not exist without

the contrast of the gentle splendor

of blended grays and blues and silvers.

It's there in those

lonely moments of morning,

that the brush strokes

of a beautiful sunrise

begin to be painted.

Where we begin

to shed memory of pain

for the promise of another day.

Letting go of our burdens of pain and sorrow.

Just for that single moment

of fresh air

among the oranges and golden yellows of sunrise.

To find the strength to smile again.

And the shaded mist of morning takes

all we are willing to give

so we can have that moment

and accepts it is not beautiful

like a sunrise

because of the pain it sheds for us.

However, it looks on through

its own shaded mists of gray

and knows

more than we can ever realize

how we are more beautiful

than a sunrise.

-Armando Torres

In The Corner

"In The Corner"

At the end of every day I am reminded you are not here anymore,
Every time I see your side of the bed I feel this hole again,
     a missing piece ripped from me,
In the morning making my coffee
     I forget to make just enough for myself,
Instead
     I go and make breakfast for the both of us,
          As if you were still here,
I set your eggs and bacon with toast and coffee on your side of the table,
     I eat my meal as I choke down tears,
I thought I heard you call my name the other day,
     a hint of a whisper or perhaps just the wind,
All the rooms feel so suffocating without you,
     I find no solace in the light the day brings,
The silence that lingers in this house crushes my strength,
     I look at the empty spots you used to sit in and read,
The backyard bench we'd sit in and watch the leaves flutter and fall,
     I don't know if I can anymore,
          I don't know...
However,
     I thought I heard you whisper my name the other day,
          I thought I saw you in the other room as well,
I see you everywhere now,
     in every room of this house,
I now wait for the day to fade to night
          because the dark doesn't feel empty anymore,
There's something there now inside of it,
          Something lingering in the corner,
I don't feel so alone in the dark,
          I lay myself down on my side of the bed,
I just hope it's you in the corner.
-Armando Torres

Cigarette Tip v2.

"Cigarette Tip"
Steam rises from his lips
as if a cigarette tip burns
amidst this winter breeze,
Silky lines of gray rise
     into the icy air
          as he stands there
     looking out beyond
the falling white flakes
     that shrouds his colorless face,

His eyes not frozen
among the cold hardness lingering on the wind,
but instead
glow
like hot embers
burning
with icy precision
     at something he remembers,

A betrayal
that occurred in this very spot,
a stolen kiss he witnessed
but was not a part of,
A memory
too painful to linger on,

His vision begins to blur
     and the red glow cools
inside his eyes,
The icy chill of his tears
slowly pull him away
     from the rage
leaving him to slowly
wither away
amidst
this winter breeze
like a burning tip
     of a cigarette.
-Armando Torres

Only Nothing v2.

"Only Nothing"
I woke up to the warmth of sun
beaming on my face and
As the darkness of sleep slowly
dissolved away from my eyes
for the early morning light,
I unintentionally broke my necklace
from around my neck,
a precious heirloom, a gift,
a connection to my past
that I broke,

And for a few fleeting moments
I waited for the meaning of this
To dawn upon me
     like a fierce breath of fresh air.
But instead
Only the echoed silence
     of the ringing in my ears lingered,
Only the dim glow
     of the morning seemed to be watching,
I found nothing in that moment
that said to me it was of significance,
Nothing in the cosmos noticed,
No omniscient force took attention,
Nothing in existence looked except for me,

It was me that made this moment exist,
It was me that made it so,
It was I and not fate,
It was my face that watched and not God,
I saw and therefore it was and
     for a brief moment found what I was looking for
Only for it to fold into infinity and
Exist as an instant of
Only Nothing.