26 July 2008

My father's dream, 20jul08

My father called me up last week, to tell me about a dream he'd had. My father and I have never spoken of dreams. There were french doors and they opened and Abuelo was there, with his big grin -- we've all got it really it's the mark of my family name really -- and holding a little boy's hand, he turned to my father and says "mira que se parece a ti cabezon". My father was too shocked to say anything. Yesterday was all hectic and doctors and driving but in the end, everything was OK, and we got to hear the heartbeat again. tuntun-tuntun-tunun

04 July 2008

you promised me poems.

Another year, and it gets further away and it hurts less, I guess. Eventually I will be able to stop feeling it at all. And if there were even the slightest bit of genuine sorry, we could be friends. Such a bitter pill. Last night at the big B, rockin' it with Tai-tai:

me: So I'm sad.
tai-tai: Why?
me: because it's the 4th of July.
tai-tai: So?
me: It's my anniversary for when my drama-llama bullshit happened.
tai-tai: oh.
me: I mean, I bet you don't even remember when the thing with your sister happened.
tai-tai: no, I don't know the day or even the month. I remember where i was and what I was doing.
me: but that's my point. I can't forget, and even if I did, there's fucking fireworks to remind me.
tai-tai: like a party! YAY!

03 July 2008

this one's called "god knows, *****"

what do you want
misbegotten whore
your every word like something fetid
another abortion
scraped from the drooling maw of your cunt-mouth
you never tire
of hurting the ones around you
you set the hooks deep, god knows
god knows
you played the victim so often
you forgot it was a part
the world doesn't owe you,
god knows.


I really must talk to Aik about getting him to drum, if only for just this song.