*tickity tackity**

el tickity tacky* de tu teclado
invoca en mi algo innato.
escribo porque es mi manera de vivir
y las cosas las tengo que decir.
el tickity tacky* de tu teclado
invoca en mi este mensaje
y sin ningun rodeaje
te dejo saber lo que en mi nace.

tickity tackity**
de tus dedos emite
un palabreo incomprensible
para muchos, indefinible,
para otros, sensibles.

tickity tackity**
perdemos el hilo
y la conversacion se convierte
en otro nido
del tickity tackity **
llegando a nuestro oido.
y nos olvidamos
pa' que fue a lo que vinimos.

tickity tacky*.
te escribo,
a ver si escuchas mi ruido.
este en el cual baso lo que vivo.
estas palabras sin filo.
que solo defino
como
tickity tackity**

Patterns and Tendencies

INT. BEDROOM- APT. HAPPY GROVE, BUSHWICK NY  -- NIGHT

My roommate just went to go fuck her boy toy of the night and I sit here wondering what is it that I'm supposed to be doing right now. I guess getting baked is starting to manage thoughts to become aroused and a text could "make it work".  Of helping me find manners more intense than what they're supposed to be. I always overthink things, right. So.
anyways, I thought to myself one day.

INSERT TEXT: "WHAT'S THE POINT?"

You see patterns, tendencies, some would say,
of how it all might go one way. Her way.  My way.
The only way. The way it always goes.  It just
goes.

The way you find yourself waiting for another call.
A text. Some sort of love con quest,
not "con queso", because sex tends to make things
difficult. And there's no point in trying to make
something beautiful out of something that
flourished and died already.
Or so she believes.

You see, flowers die because you take them from their root.
And here lies the problem I can't compute
we all can't seem to uncover a solution
to get away. From everything that not even sunshine can re array.
A pattern of breaking from the way, the only way.
Her way.

INSERT TEXT: I AM ON HIATUS

When you see patterns, and tendencies,
you try and steer away. But flowers
in spite of Global Warming,
still come back in May.

And roots form again.
It's a tendency we can't change.
Try to remember whose uprooting
destroyed the flourished garden, and regardless,
it's a stupid tendency to think about her flowers
any ways.

Una vez más entre mis brazos

¿cómo se siente estar en mis brazos?

me pregunto, a ver si en un segundo

me dices como se siente tener el mundo

en tu regazo.

yo la tenia a ella en mis brazos.
entre tantos suspiros, le susurre al oído

un "te amo", pero ella no lo escuchó.
en algún quinto sue~o andaba.
y yo admiraba aquella vista que poesía creaba.

su cara, tranquila, brillaba con la luz que entraba

por debajo de la puerta, En una encuesta me preguntaron

si creía en algo más fuerte que yo. "Este sentimiento. 

eso creo yo". y por ahí seguí explorando.

Su piel, más suave que papel "Charmin", 

me tentaba con el sube y baja de su respiración.

Contemplación, de lo que aquel roce de manos significaba.

Aquí, postrada en mi cama, andaba diciéndole más 

de lo que quería; Ay! de estas ansias por devorarla.

¿Cómo se siente estar en mis brazos?

porque tenerte es divino. Ay de este corazón intranquilo!

a ver cuando es que entenderé que no todo paraíso
es como el que yo imaginaba. 

Tan pronto te fuiste

As soon as you left, walked out the door
of my apartment/dorm
I took the liberty of making the bed,
we made and un made,
in a previous night/weekend of fury.
You went on your way:

[-to catch a bus,
-or an M train
-back to school,
-head to work,
-find apartments
-meet a friend
-grab some drinks]

{sometimesilosecountoftheways
 that you manage to weave
 i n a n d o u t o f m y l i f e.}

I proceeded to wash my face,
rid myself from your taste,
but a strand of your hair

[-curly,
-long
-short
-black
-purple
-castaño.]

A distracted me, decided to scrub away.
Get on my knees, and fabuloso the shit out of
 the shower you just took.
A misplaced bobby pin took me
to the back of your neck a n d

As soon as you left,
I took the liberty of baptising a new era.
the one that will end when you come back
to leave again.

As soon as you left:

[-Santurce
-Guaynabo
-Brooklyn
-Guashington
-Manhattan
-Syracuse
-Boston
-Madrid]

I get the urge to wash away.  All that lingers. The smell of your tingles.
I proceed to expurgate, all that is left,
as soon as you left.

The Letters I Never Sent: Numero Dós.

Marzo, 8, 2014

Se nos fue tio 'afo. You already know this but, it takes time to process the information. Similar to the time it took to acquire the information. For example, they pulled the plug at 2PM. I texted aunt 'eidi at 2:45PM. As the message that travelled from my nanotransmitted finger taps, to my iPhone and then through ATT transmitters in space, and into her phone in Maryland, and her neurotransmitted eyes see my message, she was processing  a text from my cousin bearing the news.

Communication gaps between us. It's funny how I ended up closer to my aunt than tio 'afo. I bet you were closer to him than her. I bet you have more memories with him than I do. I hope he now makes you laugh like he made me laugh. Mi recomendación, aprovéchalo.

It's amazing how I learned about him through other people's perception of him. Whether he was a good husband/father/brother/son. I got to experience him as an uncle. An older one. A man with many stories. Women related mostly, but great stories. When you see him, since I'm assuming you will stop your busy life and meet up with him, tell him thanks for opening my eyes. El sabe.

I wish I would have talked to him more. I mean, do you think he'll have a voice in his after life? If only I knew how to say that in sign language. But I can't keep asking him silly questions. I can't keep making him laugh like he always did. The deaf have the best laughs. No les importa un carajo. 

Communication gaps between us, made us closer in a sense. We understand we won't understand everything that's said or read, or bled. I'm glad you and I can still talk like this.

Que en paz descanse tío. Y que no se nos olvide que la vida es maravillosa.

la Séptima. 

The letters I never sent: Number One

Sometimes I wish you were here to talk me through my current existential crisis. About how I don't know how to love myself but I yearn for love. I find myself clinging to the past and wanting to just text you and tell you about my current job opportunity, or more like slackpportunity because I don't have the will to step up my game. Riding out the current gig. "Todo cae, ya veras", you'd say.  I chose to write you a letter instead.

que pendeja soy

You're not here to sit down next to me and caress my hair as I told you I didn't feel like eating today so I drank  beer instead. I'm getting used to not having to pay for my drinks. You know about that baby face. We both share that gene.I look for my phone and almost let you know that I need a haircut and nothing seems to make fashion sense to me. Who gives a shit? Verdad?

About how it's Thursday, and I'm in my apartment in Brooklyn and I don't have any plan of moving other than to shower and take this work stank away. Because tomorrow is Friday and I have 5 different going out plans and I just want to spend time with you. And normally, today,  I'd be out getting into trouble but I chose to stick around and watch a movie by myself.
Finally some rest. Que rico es. 



I almost told him I loved him you know?



 I almost told her again, too. 



But I fell in love with the guy that sits in front of me at work today so. Corazon salvaje. Yo ahi, bien Novela de medio dia en univision. His last day is tomorrow so we are now life buddies. This is my "production life". 

If only you knew how much i wanted to text you all this. And maybe I will someday but 

you're always here so.


Séptima

"Sin Ceri Dad"

I call my mother on Sundays

like a religious ritual, or 

habit. I talk to her in Spanish.

"la sinceridad es lo que vale"

She says.

a type of 

"honesty is the best policy"

play on words.

She continues:

"The romans used to fix up their statues with 'cera".

But wax melts. It goes away. Now we understand that things

are better as they remain."

"Thanks mom."

*call ended*

I set myself on fire.

"sin 

cera"

she said.

"sin ceri dad- honesty, sincerity

*cera- wax

*sin cera- without wax

too mucho #MCHG

-y dice Justin Timberlake
"it's amazing i'm in this

maze with you"

(disecto las palabras y me da risa la aliteración

pero esta es otra canción que escuche
demasiado, mientras iba para un lado

al que no quería regresar.

y pienso, todas mis musas habitan en
esa ciudad que las ratas ensucian,
pero brilla mas que una tina

después de una buena mano de "cloro".

y rió. pues mas de una copa he llenado,
y ahora me toca escoger en donde derramarlas.
y escribo.
y pienso.
y muevo.

soy una artista. eso dicen.

o eso me dijeron, 

mientras bebía una cerveza en Brooklyn,

"nuevayol".)

-maldito Jay Z y su vida fabulosa

con su esposa la diosa,
labia que explota la nota,

hastaggea, magna. carta. holi. grail.