let go

days go by fast

days i had counted with both hands are now gone and there's a rush

even when everything is at hand, nothing gets really done the same day, it's only on the screen

riding has become more than an adventure; lessons of survival. and you can see their eyes even when you can not see their faces. it amazes me how a much a car can communicate about it's driver

the fingers keep getting too cold though, it hurts

so the time to give up is now

let go

in her arms

gave her away years ago, and she comes back every now and then

gave her up without giving up what i felt since that day i heard her voice for the first time

other eyes and lips passed by, some stayed some left, and yet are hers the ones that stay in that space between my chest and my forehead

is in her arms where i feel week and secure at the same time, still i haven't found the strength to just say i love you much

drought

i was told "riding in the rain is no fun". i honestly think that guy's a moron and he needs to get a full face helmet.

took pretty much all day to get my shoes and pants dry again, but it was right as the day started, so no big deal.

as we were heading downtown it just occurred to me. i saw her early that day, and rocked my world once again, so i text her and she replied.

my friend told me you can't call yourself a biker until you get caught in the rain at least twice. now i can call myself a biker i guess, only this time it was scarier when the rear tire lost all grip in the turn. i love the rain fall.

funny how i want to break the secret and it just does not happen, for what ever the reason. it's not that important i guess as i remain cautious.

then i turned my head and saw her standing there looking at me with those big bright beautiful blue eyes, and we were both completely wet as we danced up and down. and the rain kept pouring down.

i'm still waiting for my helmet to dry out as i look forward to dance again rain or shine, when all i see in her gaze is shine.

the only think i can tell is the worst part of riding in the rain are the stupid car drivers freaking out about it

in the rain

the rain was already gone when i woke up, yet i look for more signs in the skyline and the media

the rain is there where i'm going they say but i want to ride, so i choose to believe it will be gone when i get there though i know there's good chances i'm wrong

the song still carves on the side of my head; "i'm to old to cry, when a woman gets me down"

never played the cards, so there's no mistery on why i can't play the cards now.

go very cautious the first mile or two, i don't know how the tires are going to hold to the wet new road but the wind is so calm it soon gives me confidence as i recall the old pages of my early youth when my eyes flew high and long to roads far away somewhere beneath the dreams and hopes of liberation. now i'm here in the open, in the weather, and i'm getting wet

spent a short night coming back and forward, thinking, feeling. the ideas and the the sensations collide time and time again, as i fall confused then i get apparent clarity, just like the road ahead of me, almost no traffic ahead but the cloud hangs heavy right in front of my eyes and yet i want to go faster

the same way i persue and give up with every day that goes and i only wish all of it has a purpose since i can not kiss her skin, not even gaze at her eyes

then when it's time to stop i can see where i went wrong, but then it is too late. and i had so much fun

ride

few years passed as the waters turned steady and quiet

i still don't understand the projection out of the mirror. i still don't see what i expected to see, and i still don't know is me who is wrong or is it anybody else

at the same time i try to tear down the fences that surround my steps but some of them are so strong, but when i hear her voice i can feel my heart beat faster

yet trying to fill up the spaces i ride through the night and catch the glimpse of the red moon rising right before she lays to rest on the other side of the clouds

and in the middle of the boredom she drowns my mind in her laughter and she doesn't even know. yet the veils cover the ideas of a distant war never won, never fought

and the light dim out and fade away in the mirrors, and i still ride the same road, with only less steel and rubber

and i sleep and dream

and i run and hurt

and i breath and sweat

one hot seat

these crazy days come and go up and down on me in such fast pace

i ran through the woods and saw a sight never seen, yet a familiar memory from the cover of a magazine. and what do your eyes actually see?

the night falls quickly over after the pleasant company of a lovely friend who shares her arms so dearly.

i know the road since i've been there before, i drove plenty of times back and forward, slow and fast too, but never in this one hot seat at night with the face shield between my eyes and the road.

facing traffic and traffic lights i clearly feel the heat under my body, but the road in front gets covered with the thick foliage and boy it feels so nice.

in the mean time i keep trying to figure out why some see and some don't, some hug and some shy away. what is it what my eyes see?

yet i keep getting used to the sequential transmission as my car complains of being sitting so still and pretty under the sun and the rain

the sound of white noise

sweat start running down my face when I hear the voice: "no head phones", and i keep going

many folks want to be different, to separate themselves from the crowd, as others want to belong to the crowd

and that's the way we roll

there are may ways to detach one from oneself. some ways are more immediate. and the tv screen is one, and the headphones another

in the park, on my steps, in the crowd i could find that way too, but somehow when i come inside the apartment i find so much distraction and fall in all the traps. and i have my headphones on, jamming to the music of past days

your heart

at times i think distance separates you from your own self in a very subtle way

then i open this door and my name hugs me with a smile that makes me connect again with who i am when i'm one with my soul close together

and i need more hugs

when i knew about it i bowed to let go, so i tear my chest around and finally made it. now when she's with him i'm ok, still i think about the sweet embrace of her voice

attraction, distraction, reaction.... and she plays with her hair as i day dream of her lips touching my lips

the words, the staring, the touch ...and the music too

all these nights being so different, all these different women, still can find the one you can give your heart... should i give up my heart?

drinks and dance

we all do it one way or another, seems like its part of being human

we just need to find an excuse, one simple reason or even just the need to liberate one part of the soul

for not apparent reason, the last time i talked to her i still felt nervous; she made me nervous. but when i saw her standing by the dance floor, i just walked to her and after a couple of minutes we went inside, and we touched and we laughed. and the next day we were the same

i'm still a terrible dancer, but i enjoy it now

so we set up again, to go out, just for the hell of it, just for fun. and so we start drinking when she says "i wanna dance". kept on drinking till we get to the next place where the lights are low and the music loud, and when trying to speak our lips touch wet and warm

and the night keeps going when the other guy tells me about the unwritten rules of the club, so i play along with them and feel my head rolling round just letting me know the next morning will not be nice

and as the party ends, we all get back to the quiet of each others rooms, when she repeats the dose of wet and warmth to our leaps, and she keeps rolling round in my head for hours

back in the tv room

staring at the screen get a flashback about the days gone, and things that will never be

and through the air breathing in and out, there's a sense of nonsense, when the waves talk about the tablet

in those days, dates use to have a meaning and represented pillars in the path of our time, and now get back again to realize how small i am, even when the whole world revolves around me

what is important and what's not is always up to us

and i keep staring at the flat screen surrounded by all this individuals not so much like me, and not so different either. and think of how twisted our worlds are, how unreal how ephemeral

still we keep pursuing our desires, since the world revolves around us anyway

face it

for a reason that nobody cares, i try to stay calm and collected, even when i'm exited riding in an jetplane.

the day and minutes go slow when the aisles of the airport are know things that repeat themselves year after year.

and as most things go as planned i enjoy the warmth and the flavors that get me to younger years.

funny how things can come to you in the moment you less expect them to come, and this time is not different to that.

the day grows long when the road takes you from east to west, back to east and then south where the streets area older and the chills grow through the bones. all of the sudden the places and colors belong to those younger years when she was still around and the void fills up the embrace of that sweet memory of things that will never be again.

we never did it before, not this way, but we were there walking all over avoiding the crowd between the cars and buses walking walking.

she dresses up and he follows the rite too, and we are part together thanks to the ideas and prejudices of the ones we long loved and still want to trust, and the smiles stay for the rest the evening and up into the night. it's never like the fist one, but i decide i'm going to live it this time, just to see how it is, it's their party after all, and not mine.

and funny it is that i thing about her all the time.

i feel tired in the way back but i still want to thing of something else, and the time to spend, cause i want to spend more time, still the news keep coming in ways we wouldn't want to get them, nobody wants to know about the grieve.

the sickness runs through the muscles of my neck up to my forehead, and we met in the place no one wants to ever meet. the sounds are mute, and the eyes watery like melting ice, and it's not quite nice but we're still together, even when there're no reasons to cheer.

and as the night gets colder, my head gets stuffed and i find a halo of anxiety around that gate, when i still thing about the words i should say when all i want to do is leave.

i think i deal with it every day of my live, still i was so hesitant walking though that door. and i believe that ever since that moment when the view turned dark and i walked out from upside down, my fears intensified and now i want to stay farther away.

but the moment for me has come to walk forward and face it, to stare directly at the casket and to accept that one day we all will be there, and that we all will leave love behind weather we want it or not. meanwhile others will keep breathing, hugging and shearing, fighting and traveling.

and it's always closer that we would like it to be, it's always around, sometimes so clear we can just wait, and sometimes will take us by surprise, so quick yet so natural. as natural as getting up to have a sip of water. there's where i will go to one day.