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..





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?



I’ll write you a letter once.  To show that I’m different and in need of you.  I’ll not trick, with a trickster.  I’m you from another time creating a better field, for these wings of arrogance.  Maybe a king between blue sky and sea, will see courage.  I’ll not trick, with a trickster I said.  Yet, I’d love a challenge up ahead.  Break me you that reads, reader which I’m aiming with a desk, a chair and a pen that inks.  These voices, will stop when?  These angelical traces, remnants from people with no faith.

Will you see farther, much further than them?  Help the needy like Robin Hood letting down the bow, with an arrow in hand or blame, blame and be heavy in.  Is it a contract I need to sweat?  What is the real test!?  Healing from their remnants or shaming my own name in a victimizing jest.  I’m courage, I’m me.  Not fire, not wind, not a body cut to a droplet of blood.  Just whatever you in me see.

I saw a door once shaming what Eden could be.  I’ve perceived so many colors of the rainbow through the mist.  People as creatures, people as diseased.  Was that door an open sky?  Was it you taming the idea of a young spiritual light?  May I die between ideals or find that deepness that’ll help me fly?  Are you even reading?  There’s too much information out there.  Too many mirrors focused to be heart hunters.







New experience

Today for the first time I smile and feel light. Due to what I asked. As if, someone loved me with that fear of hurting me. As if, I had someone to look forward too. I don’t know how love should feel, but it hit that spot.

I’m glad I experienced this, plus separated myself from a past burden.

Thank you

Whoever you were…

When help is needed

When do we really need help? Help is something that has many meanings and is part of a common virtue. This virtue is empathy and love. Recognizing that, only a few can acknowledge and do.

We all need help, but, is commonly in different aspects in life. So, how do we start? When does it start? Only some will feel this as real.. This giving of opportunity, as, if they could at that moment do it. Not the pushy help, that takes part in hipocrite ways.

Me, personally can’t give that much help if always alone or in need of it. It would be wrong of me to be a giver. I can only give, when I have something to give. Right now, im one and only one. No friends, no close brothers or father to son relationship and I feel the need of help.

I would want to love too.. loving someone, loving even love. I haven’t experienced this and feel lonely. So, from my perspective, love could be a friend or girl-friend. Maybe, even money to be freed from debt and stress.

Its like any opportunity. You’ll part from a common denominator. Love and empathy. I dream of this you know. Loneliness could really take part of the bliss of being alive.

So, when do we really need help? Or from who? Me personally, like the idea of opportunity and love. Something real…


And I lead them to you, directly there

Blasphemy I saw In spite of the smell

The smell of lust

Quakes of a broken friendship

A fight turned to dust

More the breaking of gusts

I almost concurred on the same habit of rusted love

She said thats why you hate him

And he acknowledged with a nod

I saw

I felt

I heard your screams while you melted

Your friends pelt

He said thats why you hate him

And he neglected with a no

So we found you buried deep

Under the jeep

Trying to relax while your friend

Down there now sleeps

Distant friend in the mist

Now your free