Restless Reminders Are Falling Behind

©. Mar. 16, 2022. All Rights Reserved.

He used to stare 

At the sun for too long, 

Hearing the white noise 

On the TV screen.

He used to eat

Lasagna in the dark

Before drinking 

2 teaspoons of caffeine, 

Dying his blue jeans

To the color white. 

He used to 

Ride a skateboard on subways 

With summertime

Sunglasses and sandals. 

Across his waist 

Was a studded, spiked belt. 

Around his neck 

Was a cactus for days,

Having filtered water 

That could squirt out. 

Restless reminders

Are falling behind.

Restless reminders

Are loving the mind. 

Many streets

Were designed like chiseled abs, 

Persuading

Radical feminists. 

Many men wore helmets 

To cross the street, 

Eyeing the women 

As fantasists, 

Where a store sold

Popcorn and apple sauce. 

His earphones blocked

The sound of giggling, 

Where teenagers

Played basketball, smoked, 

And poured liquor out 

For their dead homies, 

Like the Day of the Dead

And girls were soaked. 

Then, his earphones broke

During a shootout. 

Restless reminders

Are falling behind.

Restless reminders

Are loving the mind. 

He fled without a bullet

Up his brain. 

The screams

Were like suicidal pilots,

With priceless tickets

To the DMV. 

Silence was impossible

On islets, 

But the house of God

Made him rethink life. 

His step mother

Told him he was ugly, 

For modeling

Wasn’t in his future. 

How his landlady

Was a drug dealer, 

Made him view her

As an entrepreneur, 

But he never took drugs

From the woman. 

Restless reminders

Are falling behind.

Restless reminders

Are loving the mind. 

He recalled his friend

Saying he was gay.

He heard that male seahorses

Can give birth. 

He heard that it’s witchcraft,

Which is a sin. 

Like humor in a bug out bag

On Earth, 

He wanted things

That would last forever. 

He wanted a sunroof

In bumper cars, 

Chinese food alone

The following day, 

With hot chocolate

And the heater on. 

Like a couple on doomsday,

He would pray, 

That he was with the one,

Who searched for him. 

Restless reminders

Are falling behind.

Restless reminders

Are loving the mind. 

Could she be the one

Under voussoirs,

Approaching him

While she’s introverted? 

He imagined

A reality show, 

That would never make him

Feel deserted,

Recording female,

Christian contestants. 

He wouldn’t have to worry

About drugs, 

Women loving

The supernatural, 

Or different beliefs

He can’t accept. 

Looks would be hot,

Deserving fireplugs. 

Marriage would be thought of

As important. 

Restless reminders

Are falling behind.

Restless reminders

Are loving the mind. 

Part, Whole, and Her

© Sept 2, 2016. All Rights Reserved.

An unapologetic fussbudget scorned in a gazebo,
Dies as a graybeard.
The tides wash away his body,
But his final words remain the same,
“I don’t want to live anymore.”
The tumor is gone, and his body is below.
His past is feared.
Hearing the sea, his life isn’t free,
And he loses memory of his name,
Alone offshore.

That was the story of her father’s carcass.
This is the story of my obsession.

Fearlessly, love her dearly.
Clearly, you’re really pretty.
Silly me. As I utter this freely,
Gorgeous, I kneel for you ideally.
Rapidly hugging my transparency.
Evidently, you share my integrity.

Hurry, my lovely self of mortality.
Reality is my apology.
Momentarily, I’m happy.
Rarely running down an unleveled sidewalk. I’m free,
Gently, holding her purpose purposely.
Nearly cornering my shadows, I grab my car key.

I’m part, whole, and her. I’m part, whole, and hero.

Bravery is me, but secretly, I worry,
As early as morning. Lazy.
Crazy till it’s late, and I sleep easily.
See? I’m awakening from a whispering sea,
Forcefully using my energy.
We sleep on marquees and ride freight trains for free.

Carefree and gutsy, I’m intoxicated royalty.
Loyalty to harmony, I memorize his last breaths. Adorably,
We are strictly meant to be.
Obviously, separation from myself is offensive to me.
We can see him standing in a boat at night in the sea.
Horribly, we run to be free. It’s me.

Smoking at the Gas Station

© Oct., 25 2014. All Rights Reserved.

When I was approximately 8-years-old, I was in the backseat of a car at a gas station. The problem was that in the front, my mother was smoking a cigarette. I never saw her smoke anything before and the area did not explode. I knew not about chemistry at such an age, so it was just a normal day to me. As I reflect on that event, it is complicated to successfully finish telling the story. Oftentimes, I may have too many flashbacks to think properly when it returns to my memory.