Beautifully-Dark

Yeah, I've got some problems––let's call them, endearing. Yeah, I've got some fears––let's call them, quirky. Yeah, I've got some faults––let's call them, charming. Yeah, I make some mistakes––let's call them, character. You can romanticize it all you want, I'm still fucked up ––but hey, that's personality. © Rocio Belinda Mendez

The news is obviously here to keep us scared and manipulated. Letting us 'know' it's dangerous without the government and police on our 'side' to fight 'crime'. Of course what's omitted is the intense corruption within, which completely defeats the purpose, not to mention it reinforces an insidious version of crime into the picture that's harder to fight. One that's a lie conveniently categorised under 'truth and news', that tries to screw you when your backs turned and rots you from within whilst doing so. They show us what they want us to see, not the millions dying all over the world because of their 'regulations' and society's enforcement

"Do you want to know the secret to life?" he taps his finger on his cigarette to drop the ash. He looks into your eyes as thick smoke escapes his parted mouth. "I guess…" you glance down at the table. His stare is piercing. "Embrace the possibility that you're not even here, that this is all a dream." ––"...Ok" You keep your eye on him as he leans in closer… "Now release the presumption that it is your dream." He gets up and walks away. You stay seated watching the smoke rise from the still lit cigarette in the ashtray. © Rocio Belinda Mendez

Perhaps one day, I won't want to reach out for an escape, Instead I'll face the music, I hope it's soothing for my sake. This running is redundant, you see I'm running in small circles Not heading in any direction, less speedily than a dying turtle. Self destruction, my dear, what ever your chosen form may be Has a comforting fuzziness to it,  it's addiction is the enemy. It feels good, because it's bad, what a confusing, musing mess I decided not to repeat this mistake... alas I did!, I confess. Pass me that exit again, let me run away some more This out of focus life has become what I end up waking for. This reality is beautiful, am I just

My voice comes out a low whisper No one hears No one looks My face, sullen and red No one notices I do not speak at school. My answers, always incorrect Everyone hears Everyone looks My face, sullen and red Everyone notices I do not speak at school. From immortal silence To eternal dunce In a matter of seconds I do not speak up I do not speak out I do not speak at school.

They took my blood in gallons; every last drop. Filled my veins with memories; who knew I could survive on them. These moments are pulsing through me, flashes taking over. Even when my eyes are closed, they are lucid as can be. I wonder what they needed my blood for, why the sudden exchange? The memories are fading away now, I see blood in my eyes. I think I'm dying…that would explain the cold. I hear something exquisite, it's calling out my name. This feels like home, i've been here before. The memories are gone, theres nothing anymore. Pure white, pure white…goodbye. Oh…          Hello. © Rocio Belinda Mendez