melancholy

Overwritten Despondency

every breath I take is another mistake, each exhalation, lingering in this lonely space..
i'd love to just break down & cry.. but puff, pass, i'll let out another deep sigh.. 
the taste of your skin is like... pale sin.
& your smile as dead as the love that's spiraling downward into the drains of past content..
it filters out all the shit.
your eyes feel like daggers, when they're on me..
maybe that's why you can't truly see.. why do you even bother to criticize me.. why hasn't God set me free..?
 
like a fish, starving.. going in circles, de-sha-vu, I don't remember you..
but my intuition tells me otherwise.
an insect, hearing it's last words...
crushed, beneath the foot of mankind.. what sort of man is really all that kind..?
a bird, rattled in a cage.. shaken up.. absorbing rage..
being fed the scum that's left, to hold you sustained..
 
it's like not being able to turn to the next page..
& everyone keeps writing over the page i'm on, & telling me to read it once again.. & again.
until it's all scribbles, on top of one another.. it makes no sense..
you might as well be spitting on me... this is an overwritten despondency...

the Brink

Calling in the distance,
the lights go out and the music fades.
Droplets of laughter, poised on the tips of my toes.
Here in this place,
between sleep and awake,
worlds tumble together, dreams trickle through.
Here in the rain,
I'm thinking of you,
when the music fades.

Faith July 06, 2010

Verse 1:
Remove those scales
From your eyes.
This mistaken perception.
The falsehoods.
Fall apart.
Fall out.

Pre-Chorus:
Fall out
Of this disordered world.
Despite the
Uncertain future,
What you have
Now is the
Bittersweet present.

Chorus:
Here in this letter
Are fragments
Of your past,
Present, and future.
Write a new
Past, beginning,
And end in it.

Verse2:
Your hands clenched
Tightly around
The pen –
You are unable
To write.

Bridge:
Words cannot
Express the
Thoughts swirling
Around in your head.
Cheer up.

Last-Chorus:
Dejected in your seat,
Strengthened by the light,
You write – new memories
And a brighter tomorrow.

Melancholy, Creativity, and Joy

my blood is thinning
it flows down me quite smoothly
i've had a rough time with myself today
and these clouds are inching towards the sun
moving back to the start where everything begun
when i started out of line capable of the worst
was truly a design my soul could recognize
so of course i wore it all the time

and how i go about facing the days
well i put on a certain kind of face
the kind i can guarantee
you won't know how to read
and uncertainty overwhelms his teeth
uncertainty overwhelms her teeth

creativity is the source of joy
it fills my heart with never ending joy sometimes
but i tend to underestimate what i state
and take it flawlessly with a depth i never knew
never knew it was in me or would dishearten me
so you see creativity is my source of joy
the source of creativity is melancholy

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The Melancholy Summer of Dreams and Shattered Fate

One summer spent chasing a ghost
one summer spent haunted by her melancholy yet beautiful presence;
at every turn, she was there
in every dream she was there
calling out to him;
reaching from beyond the void of the reflecting glass
as if trying to feel the warmth of his skin
as if trying to hold onto the life once lived;
from this fate neither could escape.

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Where can be she be?

Through the old looming mirror, he walked, stepping lightly
as he transferred to the realm of the forgotten melancholy;
hoping he'd find the thing that haunted his dreams;
the ghost he kept seeing in every reflection.
In his mind the delicate, soft voice of confused innocence echoed
with every cry for help;
the faint image of pale, fragile hands reaching out from behind
the glass played on in his mind like a dream set to repeat for eternity.

My Uncle's favorite Serie

Folder: 
My school

I will always remember how almost every Sunday in the morning my family and I go to my grandfather’s house in Escobedo; in there I always meet with one of my uncles, Marco. He was a great guy with a crazy attitude. Marco was like 10 years older than me. He was always a great fan of anime, manga, comics, video games, and even zombies; specially the ones from Resident Evil. But the thing that he always loved was Saint Seiya (or Los caballeros del Zodiaco, here in Mexico), a Japanese cartoon about zodiac warriors. He was a fan of these anime since it was aired in Mexico, he told me that every morning that the show was aired, he wake up early and watched the show. When I see him, he showed me the show, he told me stories about it and he even draw me the characters and most of the times he showed me his endless figurines, he have a lot, like between 50 figurines, I think and also he spend almost all of his money on them. We even made little representations of the series and we made the poses that they made in the show and shouted the catch phrases of the characters. Every 6 months we go to the comic convention here in Monterrey and we bought many things like crazy hats, Yu-gi-oh! Cards, dragons on my part and in his part the figures of the series and many other things. When I was little when we go, we wake up like between 6 am to make a row to enter in there, this was on Saturday or in Sunday and we stayed almost all day long in there. Now that I grow up, when I visited him, in his house, we played video games, eat meat and drink monster. We had a lot of fun with them and more when I played with his daughter videogames and other kind games. Once on my birthday, he specially gave me a figure of Pisces, my zodiac sign and I treasured it because it was strange that he give up one of his figures of his collection. I must say that because him, I’m the person that I’m right now because of him, I always was close to anime/manga, comics, cartoons and videogames, thing that made me from my personality and also, because of this I meet with a lot of persons and a lot of them became my best friends and I will be always thankful for this now and forever.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

For my English Assignment

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Free Fall

Can't you see me falling.

And endless fall.

Calling and pleading for control.

Can't you see me screaming.

Can't you hear my weeping.

I'm losing control.

Stuck in an eternal free fall.

Can't you see me bleeding..

I'm losing control..

Don't you see me bleeding.

Do you hear me weeping.

I  can't stop from screaming.

I'm bleeding again.

I'm losing control.

Lost in this free fall.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I do not believe I need to give any cliff notes on the poem, as it already speaks for it self.

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