Days like These

Days like these

We worship.

We worship it,

Not for its perfection,

But for all the moments we wish we could have taken back.

For all the words we should have inhaled instead of spewed.

Days like these

We sit on our thrones alone

Because power comes at a mighty lonely price.

We practice our goodness but never quite get to genuine.

It’s days like these that remind us where we are.

Who has come before us

And how we will pave the way for the others.

Days that are long,
Hard,

And slow.

But worth every hustling minute.

We will remember the glory of these days

Not for its perfection

But for its purity.

Mornings with You

Collect my love puddles and recycle them back to me

Puddles from the sweat behind my knees, praying you and I will be.

Clutch the emerald rosary

between our fangs.

Pain lingers 

And that’s how it’s supposed to be.

Sink them deep, my crimson cabernet is yours to keep

Slackline on the silverlining to the highest star

Bring me back to my body

Only you,

The keeper of my puddles, my crimson, my heart.

-Words by Jasmine Duran and Luiz Castro

Narcissus

I saw you crying once. 

Outside of the bedroom late at night.
We had washed up after a party and dragged in the same old, bitter fight. 

Who was I to you? Why couldn’t you show?

So here we are:
You on the livingroom floor.
Me, peering through a crack in the bedroom I wished wasn’t ours. A hallway of mirrors fall between us and we cannot reach each other through our own reflection.
We would only see ourselves.

Manipulative Man

He brushes his hair with the rough palm of his hand as he surveys the room over the brim of his glasses.

With one raise of an eyebrow, he unbuckles his jaw and lightly licks his bottom lip.

Surveillance is his key to survival. We are all pawns to his purpose — and believe me, he has control.

His survival instincts are different than yours or mine. 

He can never be sure who is a threat. He doesnt know you yet, 

but he will. 

He subjects himself to submission just to facilitate the flow. Unwinds the bait and reels in your ego. Keep your enemies close.

Keep them wanting more.

Virgo

Roots thick as blood

Tied to the vows of the womb we shared

A woman’s bond coiled in cold intentions.

Suffocate a moon-time flow of a new direction.

Heartbeat in the background Tells us of the time we do not have.

Regressed by a memory. 

Drowned by a dream.

Is my psyche playing tricks on me? 

Blood and memory  – 

The foundation of the altercation.

You. My legacy’s contention.