For just a peso,
And of myopic visions.
Hanging upon bars of traveling conveyances.
Uttering words – almost raucous and croaky.

Street children.
Callow bairns.
With nature-spring-bottle maracas;
And flattened caps for tambourines.

On a midday sun.
And dusty atmosphere.
Their grubby faces mirror penury;
Delicate little hands denote beggary.

**I hope these kids, too, will have a Merry Little Christmas.

Denial. Clear-cut.
Irresistibly beautiful.
Fooling around. One-night stands.
Beneath sheets, not a regret.

Then, I fell.
Lost my sanity.
Overwhelmed by cardiac palpitations.
I gave in, not a question was told.

No one knew.
Until the day I was wounded.
Not using my head, I bled.
Drowning in my own tears, dried up.

The trust. The love.
Everything was but a lie.
I fell on bended knees.
Wishing. I could have used my mind.

This game.
I am destined to lose.
This game.
I am destined to be bruised.

And this game.
I am destined to be six feet under.

I had my one foot in the grave
And Life has been abysmal.
With you, I’ll go.

That detrimental kiss
shriveled, and searing
’til my last blood kissed earth.

This permanence;
’tis the catastrophe
of relishing insomniac aurora.

Nick me;
to your unfathomable realm;
’til this gasp of pain leave no trace.

Oh death;
how enticing is your eminence
and to spurn your plea is despondency.

So purloin my soul
in a trice -
brisker than twinkling of an eye.

The waves kissed the shore;
His toes touched them,
with might and lavishing delight;
Cold and tranquil.

Then came one,
Looking off across the sallow sands;
And the stars comfort the heaven’s heart;
Intense and dazzling.

They held hands;
Laughter and silence of the hearts,
Filled the breeze,
Mellifluous and sweet.

They were in love;
Meeting at the shore like waves and sands;
Though night separated the sun and sky,
Never their lips nor hands.

He was gloomy
in the corner of a deserted chamber
with a pang of guilt, and an inscrutable straight face
with misery, and with a reminiscence of the tragedy

He was betrayed
in the corner of a deserted chamber
with silhouettes, of love and acts of copulation
with her, whom he adores and loves and glorifies

He took away her life
in the corner of a deserted chamber
with a blunt knife, corroded and rustic
with her blood, and gore of acrid smell

He lost her
in the corner of a deserted chamber
with tears, flooded from his heart as blood
with grief, and outpouring remorse

He wanted her back
in the corner of a deserted chamber
with high regards, of loving her once more
with deep love, no man can fathom

Now, he’s alone
in the corner of a deserted chamber
with walls, of bricks and planks of wood
with cloistered way of life, and of death

That was the kiss,
that was smoother and stronger than pain.
It was yet dainty and fragile.

That was the kiss,
that made my pieces to whole.
It was intact and perfect.

That was the kiss,
that dried up my heart with love.
It was amorous and affectionate.

That was the kiss,
that touched my soul like dove.
It was pure and blameless.

That was the kiss,
that remained silent and hushed.
It was voiceless yet ascertained.

That was the kiss,
that poisoned my being.
It was an enigma that blinds.

And it was like the kiss,
that nailed a man on the cross.
That was cunning and deceitful.

I love black
With furious eyes glaring like woe
Like a grim and foreboding picture, it utters
When it succumbs to resentful silence

I love black
Its hostile voice that screams like a crow
Like death coaxing demise
Its whisper is a sullen tranquility

I love black
With sorrow in its eye, so overwhelming
Like mine, filching agony from dusk
Its gleaming color of resentment