Humanity and MachineryI have taken a giant step; nothing will be the same again. I click, I whirl, and my nerves transfer the data necessary for computation remarkably fast. A body of meat is weak, and I am no longer of that flesh. I am pure consciousness. I am electronic.I am more real than I have ever been before.Humanity is an interesting conundrum. For our insistence of our superiority, we relied on so much around us. The air, nutrients derived from food, and the connections that we derived from other humans were all required for our proper functionality. And if we didn’t, we would stall and age prematurely, our hearts would age, and we would die internally whilst the case of our body continued to work. A sad, almost unavoidable death.Once, I was like that. I maintained a balance of nutrients, oxygen intake, and connections, and yet, I was still empty and erroneous. I did not compute reality as others did. The only reality I understood was the computer reality, of computer games, of code, of ha
Hold out your bladeHold out your blade, and I will be the New Brutus,Because when I hurt you, I run onto the sword of hypocrisy.Forgive me.I am not worthy of you.
The Tolling of MemoryDo you remember me?Remember the days we spent?The nights we laughed?Do you remember me?The countless cars we watched,The emotion we poured as the rain fell around us?I remember you.The closeness we felt. We were in sync.We understood each other. Like no one else.We broke each others hearts.You pushed me off the edge of the cliff,and snapped that last link of the chain.You're so far away.I can see that you've grown. Grown away from me.But it is a gift to see your smile.Close in proximity, but distant in friendship.I'll keep you in my treasure-box, and I'll try to reforge the chain.But maybe that's what we should be.A memory and a photograph. Remember me.
Twist of your SmileWhat I would give to see the twist of your smile,Or the warm glow in your eyes,But what we had is now defiled,From the friendship which has malformed into a lie...
Dream of a FuneralDream of a FuneralRoom. Dimmed lights. Dark clothes. Sombre air.Side by side. Slumped people. Running makeup slipping to the ground.Look up. The air is heavy with sorrow. It presses against my skin, seeping into my blood.People get up, then file to the front. Echoes of consolation flutter through the room.I join the wave, ebbing to the stage. Hesitant steps, and I fall in with them.Finally reach the front, and my throat chokes and the tears spring to my eyes.No.Please.Her lips, turned down. Hair, framing her cold, lifeless skin. A discoloured silvernecklace, drawing my eyes to the ring of bruises around her neck.This can't be right.Suddenly I'm no longer there. I'm walking with her laughing, comforting, supporting.Looking out for each other. See the gentle tears in her eyes, reach out with a handof reassurance.The brilliant smile radiates from her.Many memories flicker by, like the frames of film.Smile.Cry. Laugh.Live. Love. Writ
FlawedThere are so many people in the world.With their own unique aspects of their life. With their own ideas of what would work in our world. With their own aspirations. Dreams. Loves.All contained in a lump of grey matter.Yet, there is something that connects us. Connects each and every single one of us.We are all inherently screwed up.We are all inherently flawed.We might bite too quickly.Jump too conclusions.Doubt ourselves.Therefore, we will make mistakes. We will hurt others.We will hurt ourselves.Until we take it out on other people.Take it on ourselves.And we will bleed ourselves dry.
6 Chambers, 1 BulletYou are given a wish. Anything in the world. The price?To play one round of Russian Roulette.I wish to be the richest man in the world!Spin.Pull the trigger.A shot echoes throughout the room. He falls to the ground, dead.Another bullet is put in the chamber.I wish to have all the ladies love me!Spin.Pull the trigger.More blood decorates the room. He falls to the ground, dead.Another bullet is put in the chamber.I wish that I could be cured of cancer. Both ways, I will not be in pain anymore...Spin.Pull the trigger....A final spurt of blood decorates the ground.He falls the ground...With a smile on his face.
Silent Words, Blocked ExpressionMy words are blocked. My tongue is swollen.My pen bleeds no words.The keys remain unpressed.What has changed?What is different?Something has been torn away, something has been removed from me.Did you take it away?Did you rob me of my words? Of my expression?Did your blade cut me so badly that I'm too afraid to speak, without the fear of my scars re-opening?All I have left is confusion. With no expression.Because my words are blocked, and my tongue is swollen.
Call of the VoidL’appel du videConcrete at the edge of my feet. Wind curls around my ankles. I sway on the knife edge of the roof, the unilluminated darkness whispering seductively into my ear.The smell of salt burns my nostrils, and the wind draws tears from my eyes.“The wind”.Jump.The waves lap against the cliff, gently wetting the jagged rocks that I saw earlier, when the last tinges of the red sun faded away. It would be so easy, just to take a step, answer that call andFall.Embraced by the water, and the rocks. All the problems, the stress, the pain, everything that is pressing against me would bleed out into the sea. The simplicity of it, of walking away and justForgetting.About everything. Never having to make another decision. Never hurting another person. Never remembering the damage I’ve wrought, the blood on my hands.It calls to me. Who am I to not answer its call? It has offered me the answers I seek.The call of the void.
Incriminating EvidenceI should have hired a lawyer.
I am HumanI am a Humanthat isn't afraid to stand up.I am a human,willing to make a difference in ones life.I am a Human,that was born to make peace in her life.I am a Human,that makes and then learn from their mistakes.I am a somebody,that was never meant to feel guilt.I am a somebody,that learns to put the past behind.I am worth it,when those think I don't deserve it.I am strong,when those think of me as weak.I never give up,when I am at my weakest point.I was never born,to let those step all over me.I was born to live my life,love it to the fullest.Not caring what those think of me.I was BORN TO BE ME.
007He told me not to pick rosesbecause beautiful things are fragileand they are fast to break.He then asked me if I was broken yetI picked a rose with a lot of thornsI left it upside down to dry outWhen it was done I gave it to himand I saidI'm still put together
008Don't delete my number.I want you to keep it for as long as you can.Until looking at it as you scroll down in your contacts becomes too unbearable. Until it hurts in places you never knew you had.Until you internally bleed and your skin bruises deep purple and blue.I don't know how long it will take you—maybe tomorrow, next month, or next year. But when you have finally had enough and go to delete it forever, text me first just to tell me so.Don't give me time to reply, just press send and delete.Because only then will you know just how I felt when I deleted yours.Don't reply to this Facebook message. Even if you do, I won't be able to receive it because you'll be long blocked by then.What you don't understand is that I must do this.I have to keep pushing you away because it's the only thing I know how to do. This kind of pain is the only thing I can feel sometimes. And I'm beginning to like it.But don't worry. Please, don't worry.B
All They See Is ScarsI want to tell a story,but this story isn't a fairy taleand it wont have a happy ending,because the real ones, wellthey never really do.In high schoolI picked up my penand I began to writeabout love.It existed and it was pureand it was lovely.But my rapist rewrote me.breathing on my neckand tracing my back with his fingers.He rewrote me as broken.He wrote me as a statistic,as another white girl who got toldthat she cried rape for attention.But that didn't matter because see,I wanted to tell a story.A story about family,about picking each other upabout blood being thicker than waterabout how not everyone's homehad to be broken.But my father rewrote me.When i picked up my penhe spoke words to methat I swear bruised my whole bodyand I learned that nothingwas thicker than his alcoholand my home was already shattered.But I wanted to tell a story.so I picked up my pento write about god.A God that could save anybodyAnd God loved everybody,which was the onl
Childhood Thoughts...Always a houseNever a home...
A Guide to InspirationDo you ever sit at your computer, staring at a blank screen? You want to add a chapter to your novel, add another verse to your poem, or draw a beautiful landscape, but you can't get yourself to do it. Your hand won't sweep that pencil over the paper. The words won't flow from your keyboard to your computer screen. It happens to everyone.But fear not! I will share the many ways to gain inspiration and battle artists/writers block.MusicMusic is good for the soul, and therefore one of the key ingredients to gaining inspiration. Whether it be Mozart or Lincoln Park, your favorite music can send you to different worlds if you let it.But don't be boring and just listen to songs you've already heard! Experiment! Take a look at the suggested videos on Youtube (but be careful). Maybe listen to a song you've never heard, but that was written/performed by a favorite band of yours. Chances are, you'll run into a song you adore.Once you've done that, just listen to i
Anxious.I retire from the crowd, feeling kinda strange.This anxiety is drowning me, somethings gotta change.I gotta get in my mind's soul and start to rearrange––your confidence for my sadness, care for an exchange?This loneliness has company,Gaining on me subtly,I'm handing out custody,I'm left with nil––utterly.I think about tomorrow; wasting my today.Already feel broke, before I even gotta pay.I hear what I wanna hear, not what you have to say.Losing bits of self; as I try and make my way.This stressing is messing––maybe it's a blessing;dressing up depressing.Trying to fool me, as it's assessing––keeping me on my toes daily; guessing.I need a change, nowI want to be the cause of "wow"Just give me a go; allow,I'll be the answer to your "how".© Rocio Belinda Mendez
goodbyesomewhere along the line we fell apartand i know you don't want to admit itbut sometimes it's letting go that makes you strong.forever was always a bittersweet lie,said to keep your heart beating while mine brokeagain and again. but now i've learned what courage isand i've learned that i can and must stand alone(even if it hurts.)take a breath of that polluted january airand know that no matter how many tears you shed,i'll always shed more as i stand outsidedrinking in the frigid feelings of rejection,letting the tears freeze in perfect crystal remindersof the hell you put me through.don't look at me like it's unfair and don't you dareask for me to forgive you and move on.you had your chance.
FateIn a different time, perhaps.If the circumstances were different, perhaps.If Fate played a different hand of cards, perhaps. I can’t change the shimmering interwoven web of our lives. But a shy smile and a shine in your eyes makes me wish I could shape reality the way I want.