Melon juice and mango

So we're sitting at a restaurant in Mexico, it's 10000 F and there's people from every continent in the world, but what do I take time to do? Writting on sombody else's blog (btw, I'm not Alison, my name is jeff, I'm her canadian friend [check out my blog, meandiintime.blogspot.com]). Is it horrible to be writting on a blog a this moment? We would have the reflex to say yes automatically, but let's stop the cliche and take a second to think about it. What better way to appreciate a moment then get out of it. We never know the memories we're gonna remember, some times it's how big that monument was, sometimes it's the taste of that ice cream, what you rememeber is always suprising.

So what do all those memories have in common? They are the moment where you got out of the moment, and by that I kind of mean being part of the moment. I know it's complicated, but that's metaphysical, so naturally complicated. The point is, try stopping looking at the world through your camera, looking for memory, look at the world through nostalgics eyes, the memories will come automatically.

Hopefully will have more good ruta maya days

Jeff

No more

No more
No more forehead kisses.
No more getting caught in the rain.
No more dancing in the street.
No more hand in hand,
our fingers intertwined.
No more around the corner kisses
sleeping side by side.
No more early mornings
No more midnight meetings.
No more drives without destinations.
No more love.

My Everything

When will you realize,
The sun shines for you
The moon rises for you
The stars illuminate for you
The wind blows
The rain falls
The grass grows
Spring blooms
The tides change
The birds sing
The world turns.
And it is all for you
My everything.

Words...

Words Damage.

They kill, They torture, They slaughter.

They Break, They shout, They alter.

Not a word. 

Not a single word...

1, 2, 20 something

I don't trust a single one of you. I want to be with you dearly  but I should know better by now. 1, 2, 20 something. Lesson sadly not learned.
Don't say you'll call me, don't even ask for my number. Don't add me on facebook. Your words are nothing to me, so why I am hanging on every one? You don't know me, it's sad you didn't want to know me.
As if you were all born like this. Where were your hearts misplaced?
You can scream from your passing car, start a conversation over drumming music, you can move back my hair and kiss me, anything more, forget it.
I might have a expiration date. Sell by June 30 2011.I have realized you do too, you expire overnight after the alcohol wears off and as the first ray of sun shines. You're Monday morning's garbage.
So why the fuck would I want to be with you? You might call me racist, coolera, mamona but this is all from experience.
If only I had learned by now. 1, 2, 20 something.

He won't stop

He won' stop looking,
Muttering under his breathe,
If someone could kill you with just one look,
I bet he could rape you with his stare.