A copy of a copy of a copy 

​Isn’t it all 

a copy of a copy 

of a copy after all ? 

Isn’t art just someone else’s

idea melted into some new artist’s? 

isn’t love just a copy of your first lover?

aren’t we just copies of what our parents were? 

somehow trapped even when we try to rebel ?

what’s the point of wanting to create

if everything is already there? 

We live once, and never have the chance

to come back and look at the choices we had

because there is no text book or school

that can teach us what life screams for

We are here to live life

we are here to kill time

we are here to drink and fuck

to scream and fight

until Death comes visit us

and the day we’ll die

there won’t be no time, 

you could only wish

to offer her a drink

and hope she’s too drunk

so she falls asleep

and your lips don’t kiss.

But she’ll be back again

whores always do

even if they were satisfied

you could never run too far.

On conversations

I’m just so tired

Of normal conversations.

I don’t want to talk

If it’s just to wait for

Someone else’s word

I want to be heard

And be understood

I want to be listen to

Through histories.

I don’t want to hear

Your same apologies

The same memories

You always do.

I want to hear

About what makes you, you

About what made you be here

About your greatest fear

And your constant dreams.

I want to know

What you are running from,

What do you call home,

I want to know about

The raising tears you get

At 4 am when nobody’s there,

About your childhood wishes

And how life smashed them,

About what you think

Every morning

In front of your shoes

And makes you leave your bed

Even if you never intended to.

If you want to have a conversation

Let’s have one,

But don’t expect me to listen

If you’re going to tell me the same bullshit

You tell everyone else,

If we have one

Be ready to open your mind and heart

And forget the little lies.

Conversation with a broken lady #19

​’All I want is to help him go through it,’ she told me a month after the break down,’I know I’m broken, every part of me feels that way, and I don’t know how I am supposed to keep breathing when every time I inhale, his memory burns my heart. But the fact that he could be worst than I am, destroys me in the inside, makes me want to help but I can’t seem to find the way, and it keeps torturing myself.’

‘You should rest dear,’ I told her as I looked thought those crystal clear eyes,’you are way too much damaged to even try to help yourself. You can’t help him, or me, nor anyone, if you don’t heal yourself first. You need to forgive you, to motivate you enough to stop all this vice and be alive once again. Found yourself, embrace it, kiss it, hold it tight and never let go, never let go. Once you’ve done that, you’ll have your life back, your soul will shine, and even without talking, you’ll be helping, everyone who you’ll cross and everyone you’ll ever love.’