Jocelyn Enriquez – A Little Bit of Ecstasy

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What is a man without his own story?

What is a story without a past?

I feel you like taking the best of who I am…

If you were who you say you are

You would only be jealous of your own past


 If you yearn to change something so much

Don’t forget you to those methods will succumb

I bet you don’t like what is like to have story

I bet is only to your eyes great

That past now buried so deep, you don’t care about memories


What is a man without his own story?

I’ll tell you what he is…

He is the concubine of a woman

The vase of a womans consciousness or deceit


I hate the fact you don’t respect my will

My trials of separation

My way of giving and taking without hurting what is real

My story will be mine until the end you son of a bitch

Why would I pretend for your lame ass


This will be my only jealousy

To protect my own story and remember how it all began

Does this bring an answer?

Or feel imposed to find scars on a path

You are not the voice that ticks within

Can’t you see I’m doing this:

To feel alive

To not follow

To be witty

To have a better tomorrow

This I will not forget again..

 

 

Space

What is currently holding me back? Could it be the spiritual? Could it be the mental?  Maybe a distant power that succumbs to my reputation or maybe just something I’m not addressing like I should.  This feels so awkward and as something I can’t change for myself.  What is the meaning of personal space, if I feel like I’m being exhausted of my own.  What is this bullshit?

There’s been some many people that believe I favor them or even that I had the utmost pleasure in seeing them do their thing.  I don’t have a boss you know.  It takes my personal space to oblivion.  Plus, people that don’t love you will always take the best of you or play with your worst.  Are you understanding what I mean?  So the real question is, what the fuck is happening in my present that my mental state and spiritual feels contaminated by something?

I know some people overthink me sometimes, just because they never had the chance of hurting me like they wanted.  I’m an Ace bro, I won’t take any shit from anyone.  Imagine being against the sword and the stone all your life.  Fighting for your personal space even in your sleep.  If you have any belief in life, you could tell the difference between right from wrong or even Shepard to sheep.

I really expect this to end.  This, I’m your god bullshit.  For those that don’t understand the last statement.   Some times the mental state can be tricky and it could influence as any other drug.  In addition,  people could try to be your conscience and some even break their bones trying.  So, I don’t know what’s currently happening in my atmosphere.  But, I’m pretty sure it’s not me.

So people, this is why I’m selecting to be alone.  To wander and not feel any attachment to those who think of me to lightly.  Even the women try to under mind you with some manipulative bullshit and since I don’t plan on going deep in you.  I’m going to mind my own space.

I mean, what the fuck is happening with personal space?

 

Family

You were my portrait

You are my end

To find drops of beauty

Will be my requiem


After the ages of listening to a song

Where are you? My distant singer

My drop of stars

Someday I’ll fly like the wind

Someday you’ll be that resting dream

I heard they know about us

You and me

If you don’t mind, sing

For us to feel what is to be free

Open sky bless again this ever dream

Of finding a friend, of finding rest in sleep

Darken me! holy is to much

Cry alone, until we meet


I’m alive thanks to this

To you my last torn page

My ever ending bliss

What’s family? If not this

Ever patient, ever mist

Would I be a Wolf or a beat or a kid?

A dumb dead man

Or one swinging (dancing) for a kiss


You! Won’t forget

The days we harshly met

The mist along a presence

With the taste of someones death

How did we manage to survive

You and me…

You being so high and me resting as low as I could be

Managing time to regenerate

The scars given from a convulsing fleet

Give me rank, give me sea

So this snap of fingers plays for keeps

Through good and bad

Through love or speed

Through tough or sad

Through stale or wind that’s free

I’m alive and I will be…

Flechas

Me encuentro en un desorden

Poco normal a mis frecuentes ambitos

Algo quizas paranormal o espiritual

Siento flechas saliendo de mi espalda

Pero, como siento que llegan mas?

Quien fui yo, para tener este color?

Quizas fue el exceso de dolor…

Aun asi, porque me encuentro falto de calor?

Suelto, encontrando en mi corazon

Encerronas a un espiritu nuevo

O un desahogo al dolor

Quien creyo que me marco?

Donde se encuentra aquel hombre,

que ante mi se creyo Dios?

Siento que es mejor no juzgar

A pesar, que siento lastimado mi coraje

Sin tener consuelo o con quien mis lagrimas pueda derramar

Mil traiciones yo pase

Entre personas faltas de un milagro

No creo en religion, por eso pecados

En mi no ven un beso o un regalo

Siempre sere yo

A pesar de que un titiritero

Quiera darme un traje expirado

No niego ahora soy arquero

De un lobo buscando compañia

Soy mejor, ya sali del pozo

Donde fui echado a ser un ladrillo de acero

Ahora no tengo peros, fui hasta mozo

Siento un huracan como hermoso

No hare promesas, asi vivire…