Seconds become decades, as your life clock is adorned with rust.
What was, becomes obsolete, as your shuffled memories become convoluted.
Lives become deaths, as our derivative existence, loses substance.
© Rocio Belinda Mendez
Vida.Life tests you sometimes. It throws you so hard onto the ground, you can't feel anything but pain, taste anything but blood, or see anything clearly because of your teared-up eyes.
Sometimes you hurt so much, real physical pain doesn't come close, strangely it seems like a relief. A pain that lingers, and makes you feel like you are sleepwalking through your nightmare of a life.
Life is the teacher, preacher, the abuser, and the user, but it is you that decides how to deal with it all.
Life sits idly by, watching you walk across the universe, it throws obstacles along your path to see how tough you really are, how much you really want something, how far you will go.
It leads you right to the edge, just when you are about to free-fall, the wind blows against you, and you think twice.
I guess, we are all quantum, reacting to one another throughout our little venture, also known as a lifetime. Some take the easy road, others are dealt the tough one, some cut it short and choose their own
Little, amazing, fucked up, me.I get along with people who smoke weed, who have done MDMA, who have tripped donkey balls on LSD. I get along with people who have a mushroom experience… to tell, a drunken story that is unbeatable, a rebellious reminiscence, that makes me feel alive.
I get along with the fucked up kids.
I get along with the kids, who do not fit in with the mainstream crowd.
I get along with the misfits, who doubt themselves and ask themselves daily "why am I here?"
I get along with those who don't judge, but who are judged.
I get along with those who appreciate reality, in its most deformed, diluted, and incomprehensible state.
Normal is overrated.
Normality is boring.
Give me a fucked up chick, with scars, a guitar, and an endless game of truth or dare… any day
Give me a fucked up guy, with bruises, white socks, leather jackets, tattoos, and a taste for mystery.
Give me a man, who will look into my eyes and see the next 50 years of his life, in ecstasy… knowing I will do him good
Life isn't for everyone.Life isn't for the faint hearted. It will rip your face out of your arse and strangle you with the remains. Sometimes though, you look around, and it's so goddam beautiful you want to cry your eyes out creating a pool of tears and bathe in its glory; a little grotesque yes, but intuitive.
Life plays with you, unless you play with it right back. Tickle that Motherfucker, make it squirm, and scream, and laugh so hard it shakes the good times into your lap.
Climb trees, run around wildly, take life by the balls, and don't let go until they're blue.
Dance like theres no one watching but a creepy guy filming you in the bushes. Sing like you're drowning out every beiber song playing at once. Laugh as though you just saw a kardashian trip on their own ass.
Life is not for everyone, it stabs you in the back, pierces through your soul and rapes you in the ass simultaneously. It's the slutty cousin's friend, who just can't seem to stop FUCKING YOU.
Sometimes though, you breathe in that crisp mor
A penny for ...my thoughts.––Life is so fucking confusing. One minute your okay, the next your 6 feet under.
––One second it all makes sense, the next… you forget why you're still around.
––A few months go by really fast, one hour doing something you dislike, is eternity.
––You are with someone, and they are part of you, then all of a sudden you're missing a portion.
––Life is so fucking understandable. One second you are here, the next you are not, everything that once 'is', will become a 'was'.
––Our time is relative, but really…we are alive for a blink of an eye, in the lifetime of existence.
––It all goes on at the same pace, but an hour of fun is pure distraction, and it slips through your fingers like water… an hour of angst is reality and suffering; it slips through your fingers like mud.
––You meet someone as an individual, able to live your lives just fine, but… then you find yours
Then is now, and after is before.It's all happening right now, even what we believe to be the past… everything is in it's perspective "now" moment. We are living in a time where our present is defined by our surroundings, our era, ourselves…but this is merely our perception, and perception dear friends, can change. We are all telepathically communicating with one another, from the first ever instant, to the last ever instant…everything in between is us living, and like a domino effect, or a ripple…everything is a reaction, a branch of a centre, of the infinite all.
We move through time, time does not pass, or stop, or go…'time' is just an appropriate name, given to a non-linear collection of every possibility.–– We move through it using our decisions as a vehicle, and we leave our footprint's in the sand, for as long as sand is sand.
Yesterday can't be our today, but yesterday still exists, it's still happening, and it's your today somewhere–– just not for the
Addiction.Addiction, conceived from speculation.
An escape from right now; tainted in mea culpa.
A taste of the unexplored, bitten from the antonym of lies.
A touch of absence, in pristine awareness.
A hunt for the kill.
© Rocio Belinda Mendez
The end.Touch me like it's the last time you'll ever feel my skin under your fingertips.
Kiss me like it's the last time you'll ever feel your lips against mine.
Hold me like it's the last time you'll ever feel my body in your arms.
Love me like it's the last time you'll ever feel me love you back.
Because it is.
© Rocio Belinda Mendez
Distant.I realise it all, but I can't seem to follow through.
I'm biting the bullet, but i've bitten off more than I can chew.
These days are copies, all i'm getting are paper cuts.
Sick of reading the prologue, getting stuck in familiar ruts.
Making the same mistakes; time and time again.
What disappoints me in the end; I have no one to blame.
Things are crystal clear one day, the next a distant blur.
In complete disagreement one moment, suddenly I concur.
Why all the confusion? damn this feeling is persistent.
Everything at my finger tips, yet still so fucking distant.
© Rocio Belinda Mendez
Delicacy.Life is such a delicate thing, it's easy to create, and just as easy to destroy.
It takes one moment to be conceived, one act of love, lust, passion, regret, possibility, probability, timing or release.
It takes one moment to bring quietus, one act of hate, love, passion, anger, revenge, self-destruction, fear, chance, or fate.
It's delicacy should be treated with the upmost respect, in all instances, for all life. We live in a biological, indeterminate, dependant macrocosm that lives off us, just as we do off it. We are utterly irreplaceable in our seeming insignificance, we are merely formed of molecules, that decided to coexist for a length of time, as you... me... us.
There is so much beauty in every living entity, so much history in each little living thing, that if we were to really see things for how they are, a miracle, a phenomena, something extraordinary, drenched in wonder. We might really feel genuine love for everything surrounding us, for without it, nothing would be as i
Don't rush.Don't rush your life, what exactly are you trying to prove, and to who? Live at your own pace, appreciate the moment, and stop measuring your life by the years you have been around, put more life–– in your years, more sincerity in your actions, and more love in yourself. It is not a race, it is not a competition, the journey is the destination, this moment is what matters. Stop reminiscing on the past, stop worrying about your future, and be aware of yourself, your surroundings, your mind and your life, right now, because this… is it. The only reason you will have regrets, and say that life passed you by, is if you stand still, while everything blurs around you, be the centre of your universe, you are the leading man/ woman of your life, do not act like an extra, take charge, grab onto what you want, learn from your mistakes, let others learn from yours.
Do not fear age, we start to grow from inception, this is the most beautiful part of life. Many times we think to
HappinessPeople judge me
Without knowing me
Just for fun
I only want a friend
Someone to listen
But I'm all alone
And nobody listens
So I find my happiness elsewhere
By drowning my despair in a bottle
While looking for inner peace
But to no avail
The pressure of reality is just too much
His BallerinaA gown of silk, flowing as a stream,
Her footsteps so gentle, perhaps she was a dream,
As he crouches near bushes to glare at the unseen,
And she danced like ballerina.
Her fingers combed her golden hair,
A perfect lady who didn't care
To see the man that would never dare
To touch a ballerina.
But desire grew, and patience died,
As a lovely girl danced before his eyes,
So he buried his heart, pulled out a knife,
And tickled the ballerina.
She fought his hands, in fear of death,
A dirty blade sinking through her chest,
For he would never settle for something less,
As she screamed,
She took her final breath...
And the wind grew calm, barely blowing on the stream.
Her voice so quiet (perhaps it was a dream).
As he closes his eyes, cradling his queen...
His beautiful ballerina.
Such is life.Such is life. A blink of an eye in the most minuscule of significance's, we exist and exit in the same instant.
What is our life but a blink of an eye. What is a life but, the opening of the curtain, and the silent applause while it closes for the last time.
Are we not, one with eternity, ourselves and you... right now?.
What is this moment, if not a specific interpretation of the existence in our minds.
Hold my hand, while i take on the universe. Don't you think the fearlessness of being a human, transcends tonight? I think so, as a matter of fact I think it so much...I know it.
Rocio Belinda Mendez © 2013
The Wreckage of TonightThe wreckage of my regrets, washed to the shore of tonight.
Whispering it's secrets to the cochlea of my ear, as white figures appear in the form of haunting freeze-frames of my life, all around me.
The rusty keys –– that hold in all my gust to eternity.
The cobwebs –– that decorate my experiences into something rustic and historic.
The sounds of the waves, waltzing in the inner-keeping of my integrity.
The shallows of the frozen-over icy, rough ocean - anchor back my mind.
Rocio Belinda Mendez © 2013
Dear once lover.You stole my confidence; you took it like you owned it, you smothered it in neglect, and you threw it in the black hole of your absence.
You used my patience; you smoked it like a drug, you took advantage of my presence, you evaporated us into nothing.
You decapitated our relationship; you cut it at the root, you shook out all the good, and threw the body into your subconscious.
You cut up my affections; you stored them in your selfishness, and turned them to dust.
You broke my heart. You took it in your hands, you tore it into two, it turned cold as ice, and you shattered it across my future with you.
You shocked me to my core, a surreality I tried to escape from so frantically. The volume of my tears seemed enough to drown me into an eternal river of agony. A river that my memories of 'us' will float upon.
You deceived me beyond repair. I thought you would hold me through the hard times, instead you trampled on my pride, you flattened my hope, you destroyed the love I had for you, ki
A Letter to SelfI've been surviving off of Twizzlers, vodka and cocaine,
a mixture of failures and regrets
and every fucking time
I see myself in the mirror
god what a has been.
But I swear I'll be better.
I've been learning how to
b e t w e e n
t h e
l i n e s
how to make origami out of butterfly
how to grow bonsai trees out of
and I've plucked the few
stars down from the fucking city skies
--the ones you wanted to see more of--
and I've inked them into my daisy chain arms
maybe you can look past my failures
and see how much I
I'm living off of Twizzlers, vodka, and cocaine,
my steady diet of wallowing pity
but maybe I can change.
It's all I look forward to.
A stranger walked up to me today...A man walked up to me and asked me for a cigarette… I told him I didn't smoke anymore, and he asked me why? ––I answered "because the person I used to smoke with, isn't around anymore", and he replied…"that's why I smoke."
A woman walked up to me and asked me for drugs, I replied "I have several in store…his eyes, his smile, his hands"…she whispered, "that's not a drug"…and I laughed as I said.. "if only you knew."
A child walked up to me today and asked me to play a game, I told them I was too tired to play games, i'd been playing for years, they replied…"then you must be a pro!", to which I said "yes…a pro at losing."
An old woman stared at me today, and I asked her…"is something wrong?" she answered "I was about to ask you the same question."
© Rocio Belinda Mendez
I'm here.I want to have a thousand different lives, right now.
I feel like I belong in so many things I've merely witnessed.
I want to travel to all the countries I feel connected with, and be part of its culture; while still remaining myself.
I want to dance to the music that moves my soul, in as many different places I possibly can.
I want to connect with people from around the globe that have felt what I'm feeling right now.
I want to breathe the air into my lungs, knowing I live somewhere I've never lived before, and it's home.
I want who I am to make sense in a dozen different languages.
I want to know streets intimately, when I've lived my entire life across many oceans from them, thinking that was it.
Who says any of this is impossible.. A year in any place can feel more like home than 60 years in the same household.
I can be peoples home, they can come to me when they're done with their day, and I can wait for them with a bottle of wine to talk about life's fleeting instances.
my hair is growing longthank god for x-acto knives and
marking pins and heroine
addicts and you.
thank god for good music.
and thanksgiving meals and
grandmas and spanish teachers that
actually care about you.
thank god for
quizbowl teams and gay sponsors and
that give you strength even while
thank god for sandwiches and mothers and
thank god for blue gatorade and
little girls’ dreams and
leather ballet shoes.
thank god for hair bows and tutus and
a stage made up of glass.
thank god for hamstrings and
thank god for dazy
and little lion manes.
thank god for big paws and
wasp stings and
thank god for sally.
thank god for self-destruction.
and thank god for signs.
thank god for twin sisters and
best friends and
conjoined hips and most of all:
thank god for support.
thank god for love and
care and tragedy
and train tracks lit up in the dark
thirteen steps to falling in love1. i spend the first two years we know each other sprawled out in the back of our school bus, trying to befriend girls with cigarette ash for skin. it takes months of letting tar settle in my lungs, but finally i find myself sitting next to you.
2. when we are fourteen, you write out my name in an entirely new alphabet of obtuse triangles and right angles and on a chilly fall morning, dare me to guess who it is you like. i lie my way through the entire school year until two weeks before summer, when you give me all the clues.
3. to this day, you swear you fell in love with me the fall my mother was given her expiration date. i tell you the first morning of our sophomore year, and even though we are too scared to touch, your words would mean more than every heavy embrace up until her funeral.
4. you watch me fall down the stairs just once, and after seeing how i fold in on myself, swear never to see me hurt again. for four years you've caught me, and have amended th
Take It All Away.There’s a tear between each smile and a fracture on my heart
And a thousand feelings breaking me and tearing me apart
Knowing when it’s over I may lose my sanity
Embrace the mess I am and the storm inside of me
In the dark I have a chance to fight away my problems
To ignore them all away instead of trying to solve them
All I saw when I looked back was a mass of insecurity
Laying waste to who I am and ripping at the seam
Lowering my already non-existent self-esteem
And I couldn’t help admitting I’m a self-made failure
Walking a broken path as a second-hand savior
And it all adds up to nothing; me in a nutshell
Yanking on the chain that tethers me to hell…
addicted.they say an eating disorder will always be an eating disorder,
that a cutter will always crave the open door of their skin.
that sober is just another way of saying thirsty
and that relapse is just as far as the breadth of your self control.
when did we accept our addictions as a part of us?
maybe we've fallen in love with them,
we have been taught to define ourselves by them.
never forget, your vices are cancer. they are growths, sucking life.
they will never do anything but sink you, yet still
we don't get better, because we don't want to. not really.
why is the recovery so much harder than the relapse?
replaying old cycles like a favorite song
that always brings the sadness.
'its just the way i am' is the radiation we keep breathing in,
the cancer we've accepted. the pain we've adopted.
apathy dressed as despair that we shove down our throats to be
regurgitated as a justified excuse to give up.
don't ever give up.
we are not the concrete facades we put up a
What I wish I had knownWhat
tell you on
when you go
to your friend's birthday
of the dishes
at your willpower.
What they don't tell you
when your teacher
for your class
ironboned and magic
And what you
have to learn
like in the
from your face
your little sister
on the scales
on the scales
all the puke
six steps to fixing youstep one
cry. scream. bang your fists against the walls
that keep you locked inside.
kick your feet in the air. tell your sister she's stupid
and wrong and that you've never loved her.
cry. scream. apologize via him to you.
let your tears catch on your lashes
until you can no longer see anything but your own
demise. taste the bitterness left in
your mouth from your own bitching and rot in it.
break a mug. break two. kick
the pieces around the kitchen floor and cry some more.
break a plate. break a cup. break a bowl.
break a finger because nothing can take away this
sort of pain. you are empty and yet
you are filled with so much anger.
break a razor and paint pictures across your skin.
you are okay, you tell them.
you break three days later and you lie
in bed, unable to move.
start picking up the pieces. clean up the mess
you've made and he's left.
use windex to polish off the dirt and
honesty (never got me anywhere)1.
let's have a talk,
about something sickly sweet and mournfully
i wait for no one
in a bathroom where people keep knock-
ing on the door, asking how long i'll be in there.
i answer with a stumbling voice.
not long. but i sit, slumped-shouldered,
naked and cold, on the rim of the bathtub,
my feet press into the floor, toes curled up like
i can't move to clean up this horror story.
let someone find me,
i am too
tired (they never do, anymore.)
i can no longer fold my arms
without feeling like there is an intrusive
pillow of air between them and my torso.
i am made entirely of empty spaces.
not many people ask.
they'd rather avoid eye contact,
swallow suspect thoughts.
they used to
most got sick of
the blatantly obvious lies
and the rest
no one is ever going to want memaybe once
this would've been
but i'm crying &
my face is scrunched
like a red rag
in the sink
slumped beneath a leaky
my hands are shaking
maybe i could make
but what i have
you won't like
and do you want them too?
stealing & paying
pressing bottles and
pictures to my sternum
maybe it's the silence
the tumult of words down
the sink and
across the floor
the empty heads
i was pretty then
bird-legs and stilted poems
numbering stars and
crushing books between
but no not today
i'm a husk
waiting for everything
to destroy me
to prick a hole
start an earthquake