Credit: Jonathan Gonzalez

“Bye World,” it claimed.
With a warning that could never leave your sight.
The typical next to the questionable.
Who would write that?
Who stood here in such despair?
Brick wall seems fitting.
But if you turn around
You can see it standing right there.
The beauty and the observer.
“So powerful it was,” we will think one day.
The laid out beaches and the canyon’s rim.
Streets among ponds.
Against a water that never waned but swam us home.
A rocky surface that never subsides.
What we did with one blanket,
While the rain poured on the sea water and backyards,
A beauty hidden in warmth.
But it was so cold it seemed.
But cool as the ghost stood frozen,
Among grass fields that could steal you away.
And the waves here never stay quiet.
But I love it like that.
We never stay quiet.

I’m not up to date runaway.
I don’t know the lingo runaway.
I was too innocent runaway.
Further distanced we become runaway.
And it can’t be chance that it has slowed down like the other side of a climax.
Only breaths are heard.
Deep Exhales.
Photo album show me your surprise.
My face reflected in the screen or the plastic cover.
Did it really happen runaway?
One of the coveted you were and are runaway.
Spiced up life now.
Bed wish?
Under our blankets we lived.
But I don’t believe you.
I forget what you sound like,
How we ever got along.

As the days add up they begin to build a calendar.
It feels like it was years ago.
A long time ago this all took place.
It’s because I’m angry.
I’m still bitter
Because I didn’t do any of the things they accuse me of.
The laundry list of shame.
Oh, how have I changed?
I am no traitor.

You believe me don’t you?
Right judge?
You know I never did anything wrong.

Well, there is probably something defeating in my eye.
An iris of deceit.
A stare full of lies
But the lies are not mine.
What to do?!
There’s a gloom outside
But not the kind I like.
And I’m standing right under as the clouds softly exhale the mist.
I am lightly showered with betrayal.
I better go inside and put on a jacket.

What chaos unforeseen in death.
Extra thoughts.
A change in life.
A change in the way we live life.
Lost.
It’s lost.
Yells and arguments.
Solidarity.
All of your fault.
More wanted.
Better off with?
I walk along this canal.
Faded water blue.
It all floats on.
Out.
You float out.
Like a feather.
Or a butterfly.
Until you cannot see the balloon anymore.
I hear they come back down though.
Yeah, I heard that once.
Wonder if it’s true.
You could float on and on.

Right there, on the grass, slept an old coffee cup and empty pack of cigarettes.
It was all used up and tossed.
It looked starved for food or attention.
Someones simple pleasure just laid there in a coma.
It looked so sad and thrown away.
And for some reason this grass just wasn’t as green but this goddamn pack of smokes and starbucks just sat there.
Just used up for its good to make someone else smile and feel better.
A temporary flight into bliss.
And I swear it’s crawling for help but its knees are too weak to walk.
Someone, here, abandoned this bliss like he took it for granted and gifted this patch grass with it.
Now let me clear it up that I’m not worried about the cup or the box or the litter it has become.
I’m worried that a coffee and a cigarette could ever really make someone smile.

These tactics are becoming like the air we breathe in this city of the angels.
They seem more reserved for children of the age of G.I. Joe’s and Sing-A-Longs.
Not a thing can alter the mind.
Did you know that?
It’s set to default and no one has the password.
You pride on being so close to God.
Oh, sweetie, you’re so close.
They pride on slamming their gavel to silence the critics and critique.
There’s no room between you two for difference to breathe.
For both of you rule in your own domain.
And you do it well.
But you can’t leave home.
You send them to cells like dogs in a pound.
“They all look the same and they can all be replaced!”
It’s that simple isn’t it?
Simplistic idea.
Damn I bet that cakes tastes good.

They say it’s 20 but it’s more like 100.
The dead are thrown into rivers.
The living wait.
But at 135 mph we are too slow to run.
So we do with what we can.
But it’s not fast enough or enough.
But I think we think slow.
Get it?
And as the morning breaks, we sleep sound never knowing the chaos that prevails on the east side.
But Lord! How we must have it in our case!
But our case came and we never showed up.
We’re a few years too late.
And if only I could hop on the first flight out of here.
To tune to a television where I’d hear something relevant.
Not to hear explanations of candidates who’ve got more chance for them than I do,
From people whose oppurtunities exceed mine as well.
Oh, how I feel a shame ready to creep up and blanket our well being.
“…but your kids are gonna love it.”

Oh, man. I took this for granted.
I’m sure I signed this in blood.
I sure did something.
And I have no right to complain but I need to touch this pen to paper.
You can listen up as I drive away to somewhere far.
You hear that?
I didn’t think so.
I only hear the sound scratching across my window and the music in stereo.
So, don’t ask me for anything because I won’t ask you.
I’ll just wait to see if 2 works out.
That’ll decide whether 1 is something we’ve taken for granted.

I hear all that smoke makes you break, out.
Is that why you’re letting your roots grow out?
And those nails don’t look so good anymore.
Do they to you?
Oh, man. I am in tears for you as I can see your eyes on the verge of bleeding.
It must be hard to smile under all the turmoil.
Then again, it’s probably easier to smile than to cry.