You Are

You’re high aren’t you?
On those sleepless nights
driven by curiosity,
by this urging sense of
uncovering the dark blanket
of the night

You’re shaking aren’t you?
From the exhaustion that is slowly
munching up every last joule of energy
your body has clasped on to till now

You’re crashing aren’t you?
From that reckless behavior
that has put your mind to sleep
and gave way to your psychotic self
to creep

You’re wobbling, aren’t you?
Losing balance from the “normal”
losing control of the weight that has kept you standing
on your two feet till now

You’re smiling aren’t you?
With squinty eyes, absorbing
the third world chaos as it unravels
deeper issues, layer by layer

You’re clumsy aren’t you?
Bumping into fixtures,
jousting with those thoughts versus
reality, giving glimpses of both
blurring the actual state of being

You’re loving this, aren’t you?
The guilty pleasure of enjoying the
simple sins, those
that sprinkle life with a bit more
that the mediocre stuff
The problems, the instability,
the mental disorders, the horrible
reality checks, the downfalls,
the intoxicated laughter, the messed up
attempts of having a relationship
the harshness of listening to hurtful advice
the fact that your roof is leaking and your walls
emit frozen chills

You’re awake now, you’re tired
You’re pumped up with adrenaline,
You’re wobbling,
God knows in what state you’re in

But when you let your thoughts on paper
or screen for this case, you slowly realize
that each line you write
unedited, un-proofread
Each line, lined meticulously
is projected from that brain, that’s quiet
that’s observant

is a little realization about who
you
are
You’re wobbling, your lungs are filled with smoke
You’re functioning on 4 hours of sleep

You’re a scribbled mess
and those words have no mercy
telling you that
YES
YOU
ARE

Adara Sánchez Anguiano. Ilustración para la Revista Plástica.

Adara Sánchez Anguiano. Ilustración para la Revista Plástica.

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Journey W1F

We’re the clay matter
of the earth
Descending from the simple
sinful fact of the beginning

Our trait is that of
a malleable state
Changeable upon the infliction
of certain situations

We exist, we love and we hate
We get angry, we get happy
We get stronger and we get weary
We fall and then we rise up again
It’s a surreal magical power that
we harness within
in that rib-cage of ours
that power house, always pumping
life through our veins
regardless of the “near death” thoughts
that roam around in our minds
like Nazgûls 

Yet, we still breathe
we still argue, we still meet
we still write, drink, smoke
eat, fornicate, as our conditioned
state of mind always pushes us forward

Have you ever re-winded and marveled
at those moments, that didn’t matter
back then?

In our daily lives, love lives, work lives
we have bumped into someone of no significance
at that point in time
we were in love with someone else
our hearts were blinded by the shielded
true layers of the latter

Did you ever think of the “what if”
Those 2 words that ignite a universe of thinking
a plethora of burning energy
and a lifetime of .. time?

Your “what if” is somehow dubious
Yet don’t tell me that you never
fall into that deep dark hole
of digging it up from time to time
and creating your own world with
a true “what if”
Generating and day dreaming of
the “what could’s” and “maybe’s”

As you delve into your trip
You dance among the mental highs of its goodness
You smile at the euphoric state that you’re experiencing
You are enjoying a perfect trip
of colorful illusions
sprinkled in your “WHAT IF” daydream

Then the phone rings
You awake, saddened at the exit
that you have abruptly taken from your
journey
let’s call it “Journey W1F”
Where for a minute or two
You lost yourselves
Realizing that you’re here
and you’re W1F isn’t, gladly for some contradicting reason

You smile,
for your expectations of this
will always be enhanced
never tarnished

Since your W1F my dears
will always be
a
WHAT
IF!

LOST MYSELF