La ternura de tus labios sobrepasando los mios. La sensatez de tus dedos acariciando mi piel, mientras rayos de sensación vibran dentro de mi cuerpo, como la electricidad fluyendo por las paredes de un cuarto.
Ni la lumines de las estrellas se puede comparar al resplandecer de emociones que siento dentro de mi vientre cuando me miras con esos ojos.
Esos ojos que me llevan hasta el cielo y para tras en un abrir y cerrar de tus pestañas.
Y dentro de ese abrir y cerrar de pestañas obtienes mis suenos de lo que pudiera ser, Si sólo te dejaría entrar a este mundo en el cual me he encerrado.
Quisiera perderme en tu mirada como las millones de estrellas que relumbran sobre los cielos atraves del mundo.
Quisiera dejar me caer en un sueño como en el que estaba aquel día que de ti me enamoré.
Nunca desde entonces he podido mir rar hacia la eternidad de las estrellas y no recordar aquel día en el cual vi realizar mis sueños dentro de tus ojos.
Jamás olvidare la manera en la cual mi nombre se resvalaba de tus labios, con la misma suavidad que la miel sale del panal.
Parecen años los que deberé esperar hasta aquel día en el cual llegarás a mi de nuevo, y me recojerás en tus brazos recordandome de lo cuanto te extrané.
Pero también sé, que en aquel día cuando regreses reconecer la misma sensatez en tus dedos y aquella ternura dentro de tus labios al sobrepasar los mios . . .
Not even the luminous stars can compare to the rush of emotions that I feel inside my womb when you look inside my eyes.
Those eyes which have taken me to heaven and back with the blink of your eyelids.
And within that blink you hold my dreams of what could be,If only I let you into this world I have enclosed myself in.
I wish I could lose myself in your eyes, like the millions of shining stars lost in the heavens of the world.
Wish I could let myself get lost in a dream, like the one I was in when I fell in love with you.
Never, since that day have I been able to look into the infinity of the stars and not remember that day when I looked into your eyes and watched my dreams become a reality.
Never shall I forget the way in which my name slid off of your tongue, with the same sleekness that honey slides off of honeycomb.
It feels like years before that day in which you will come back to me and you'll pick me up into your arms making me remember how much I've missed you.
Yet, I also know that on that day when you return, I will remember the same softness in your fingertips and the tenderness of your lips as they slipped over mine . . .
We' re Running Out Of Time.
Time . . .20 minutes . . .what is it's worth? The point of knowing how long it takes to accomplish something. How fast we can run the 40, does it really matter? Who really cares? Shit I don't, or at least I don't think I care. No, I don't. Is it really that important?
Yes, No, Maybe so? Why?
"15 more minutes" Mr. O says 'til what? For what? So we can hurry up and get nervous over this stupid mind game we call a test? What than?
Can you really prove I'm smart by the stupid answers on this stupid paper, that goes into my stupid grade?
Time, it's all and nothing, what was, what is, and what will be.
Is it really as precious as we say?
Are you sure it really matters? Why?
A woman sits on death row today. Today she will die for committing a heinous crime, for taking someone's life. She killed two people with a pick ax, and yet she wants to live. For what? How many more hours before she gets her punishment? A punishment we have taken so easily into our hands.
Freedom, the right to live, to speak, to do as we wish. But do we really have the right to say who dies?
" Her time is up" or so they say. Yet who are you to say so? Who asked your opinion? Who died and made you God?
So now my mind is blank, because I don't understand, or maybe I don't want to. I don't understand why it seems as if our society has gone to hell. What else can it be when we take it upon ourselves to chose who lives and dies?
Do you really have the right to say I should die?
I wonder what she's thinking, what she feels, if she feels at all? What she'll miss, if she's scared, if she's hurting? Why she chose a banana, and a salad for her last meal? Why not steak or Ice cream?
Live life to the fullest, you never know when you could die.
But she does. How sad what time has done to us. What it's let us become.
Human beings who feel superior to everyone and everything even though our world cracks and crumbles around us.
We're Running Out Of Time.
Sense of SIGHT
The twinkling magic of each burning ball of gas. Enveloped by the misty clouds of white drifting along as we stand still. Blood red roses stretch out their lazy green stems on the whiteness of the stool beneath them. An arch carefully located behind us as we freeze for a minute . . . maybe two. . . and than it's over.