Always falling
into myself
to land
but I know better
I’ll simply shatter
once again
and fall again.


That Familiar Feeling

Despair is waking up another day
still wearing the same suit of skin,
unable to tear myself away from me
while the world presses down on my back;
a guilty conscience that won’t give respite,
breaking every bone of my spine with relish.
I hear it, one crack at a time, bending ever lower.
Wake up, you failed son of a bitch, wake up,
time’s a wasting, the world doesn’t care,
soon enough you’ll be dead like the rest.

Wakeful Atoms

Every time I wake up electrons dance in my mind, spark of thoughts, spark of life. Atoms made me, will they unmake me? One by one, a piece is formed, as consciousness is again reborn. There is a sensation, that first moment when life is a Descartian concept: I wake up, I realize, I am. I am. It is not the calm before the storm, it is the seconds, the minutes, the flirting of an hour, stretching endlessly, somewhere in my mind where Time is more than a concept, but an action: entropy will have its due, one atom at a time. The ceiling is a faithful companion to my eyes. I count each time I blink, one, two, three, five, twenty, a camera shutter whose only film is atoms of memory. Click, click, click. My body is unmoving, in a zen-like peace; there in the shores of sleep, I tussled with the waves of dream and discomfort, until I arrived to this snuggled shore, and made a home for my body, the temple of my soul. Atoms form the puzzle that I am, which ones carry the part that feels how the ebb of Time is gently flowing as I stare up to the ceiling, counting each time I blink, letting the seconds stretch on without end. My body will soon stir, atoms dancing within me and around me, time to rise. I am awake.