My heart


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Last night when I was sleeping
I think I was dreaming
And maybe you were in it
It wouldn’t surprise me if you were
Or maybe I was thinking of you while I was dreaming
But anyhow the point is that only few people know that I awake at odd times of the night and sometimes I’m moved to do things
Last night I woke up in the middle of my slumber to tell you some sentimental things when I could barely open my eyes but my heart was right there
It was right there
And you read what I sent you and put it away I guess
I haven’t heard back
My heart is still in those words, you see
It’s right there

And I still haven’t heard back


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We both changed baby
I used to want to talk to you all day
Now I don’t care to hear from you for two weeks after I’ve seen you
I let it linger in me that long or it lasts that long
Then I miss you again
It’s been me more adapting to your changing and so I’ve changed along the way
I used to want your voice in my ear all the time
Now I’m better off without
Until two weeks from now when my skin starts itching for your fingers and your tongue
And I start reaching for materials in my sleep in order to grasp something that resembles the feeling of your skin
Then I start dreaming about you,
Thinking so much about you
That my body aches
I have to crouch down and hold myself in place before I fall
But then I see you again
And it goes away until two weeks when I am parched gasping for your breath in my lungs all over again

nature’s honey.


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how lovely is the taste of true sweet things

i’ve fooled myself to imagine nectar on

your sour skin.

but i’ve loved you even when it was difficult to

and in that i’ve learned to be selfless.

with that process going, i’ve started to dislike

what i used to love.

i think i never really loved it.

the love i know now.

the things i adored were harmful, but i am equal to you

the same things you’re capable of, i am too.

now my skin resembles a desert, but my heart is that like an ocean.

when the waves move, i move.

i was once drowning, but now i float.

i learned to float at twenty, because i stopped letting things sink me.

at twenty, my goodness. twenty.

and there’s a sweet mist that’s making it’s way to me, i see it.

ready to settle on my dry skin.

to make it taste like nature’s honey.

i’ll continue to stay afloat until it’s over me, and hum a romantic

tune to the sun and clouds while i wait.

sincerely, jdm.

who knew?


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there’s a blurred static picture on the television
and there’s a lit cigarette waiting to be put out by the
chair where I usually sit.
but I’m on the floor with my legs propped up on the wall
looking at the television screen upside down
feeling the air rotate its way down to me from the ceiling fan,
and make its way through my loose shirt, exposing skin sometimes, so I close it up when it does.
over and over.
the overcast clouds move my shadow on the wall from left to right
as it decides to let the sun take a peek at my skin.
it gets warm when it does.
here and there.
so there’s silence lingering around me, and the movement of the shadow is slow.
therefore, the essence of time disappears.
…for me at least.
and I slowly go in and out of daydreaming of driving down on a full cloudy day, with a chilly wind coming through my window, flowing through strands of my hair, and my eyesight becomes very narrow, and I can literally feel my mind shrinking focus onto only one thing, usually you.
usually memories.
and the world seems to only inhabit me at that exact time, and I feel it consume the important parts of me. so even though I’m the only one, I’m alone with minor parts of me that leaves me borderline empty. more so, my eyes reflect this, because they seem to take it the hardest. at least my skin is always glowy. see, there’s life in me, but my eyes pour the contrary statement onto my glowy skin. the lively glowy skin and it’s slowly dying with them. my skin with trace marks of your past presence on it.

anyhow, there’s this pool in the middle of Earth that depicts the exact image of what my internal system –probably what my stomach would look like– that I lay floating in, and I’m staring up to the thinly showcased sky wondering which breath is going to be my last, when the blood in my veins is going to cool down, and when my lips are going to start screaming for help.

it’s like that instance in life when we first figured out that staring into the light and closing our eyes would show us the same shape in colors of blue, green, black, red…
but you can’t say anything until you open your eyes.
or at least I couldn’t.
but this time I don’t want to close my eyes. I want to float away with the core in this pool.
I want for the keys in my favorite song to play on my spine and vibrate into my brain and echo into my ears.
I want my knees to stay align with the waves in the liquid substance.
all while driving down this road,
looking into my mirrors
looking outside my windows.
but being completely aware of what lane I am in, because I’m going home.
I wish to make it there, lay in bed, and remembers bits and pieces of me so I can put myself back together in my head.
maybe I’ll be less lost in there.

but the wind touches me so pretty and tells me to go around the block again.
and the cars are being repelled from my road somehow, so I am essentially alone.
I could close my eyes.
they feel closed but in fact, my eyes are wide open right now.
but I am already dreaming.
dreaming of me dreaming.
I was let in, welcomed, made comfortable with tea, so I’m going to stay while.
i’ll take my coat off.
i’ll wipe my eyes off, because somehow tears made themselves present.
i’ll smile. In my daydream.
because I hardly can in real life.
my eyes are dry in real life.
like the land where I live.
it hasn’t rained in awhile.
and the static from the television screen is turning more and more black.
it’s nighttime, and the ceiling fan turns off.
my shadow is gone.

and lately, that’s been what I think about but in reality I’ve been sitting at a red light.
zoned out.
unaware that there’s life outside of my head.
who knew?

it’s like my blinking sometimes puts my defenses down
and my mind makes like a vacuum entirely to all of me,
and poof– I’m gone.

sincerely, jdm.

I come running.


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I distinctly remember looking at you with such passion that my eyes quickly grabbed every feature on your face for safe keeping in memory.
And while putting it away, I remember my heart in full swoon that I was able to have you that near to me to look into your eyes and keep in secret that I saw tides and I saw the moon and I saw meteors collide and time ran down to absolute nothingness like sand from an hourglass that shattered in my hands and vanished mid-air.
But I was filled, my heart could burst. My chest felt full. Your embrace filled me, your presence made my blood rush and boil at the same time. My fists would clench, and my nerves would urge me to caress your skin for balance. So I did. And I felt you come closer and closer until you eventually put your lips on mine and my eyes shut slowly to eventually see this new scenery of mountain fog going over the peaks very quickly and my breath was taken away with it.
Your body heat  was so close to my own, that it multiplied. This was the only time I felt comfortable with sweat collecting on top my skin and rubbing to your skin.
Our bodies would coincide with each other, we were that alike and that different at the same time. Our hands would find their way to interlocking each other and then every move felt natural to follow up to, I felt all of you become one to me. But at the same time I was unaware if the feeling was mutual because my mouth would never ask. Only continue to kiss areas that I knew you’d enjoy my lips on. I thought that would be enough. Felt so. We were so alike and so different. Coexistence. There was no reflection of me in you, but there was you in me. We were one. We were alike. We were different.
Our breaths matched up but the feelings in our voices wouldn’t.

Still, I always want your voice to make its way to me again. The relief I’d feel to know it was enroute. I told you I hate when you say my name but because I hate the feeling in my stomach when you say it. Please understand. Directing yourself to me. To me only. You are saying things to me. Things that I don’t take lightly. Things that I consume and weighs heavy on my heart, first. Stomach, second. I feel that if I were to open my mouth at that time that the butterflies would spill out of me and scream love so loud and so often that you’d finally have no other choice but to understand and cope with why I respond to you like I do.
Sometimes I decide to be silent. Most times.
I let my body talk to you, and your body talk to mine.
Our conversations are heavenly. And I keep gathering these moments in my head. Certain instances where you are being expressive with your eyes, with your lips, with your voice, with your hands, and I try my hardest to scramble for a pen in my head and write it down like this story here.
I feel as if we’re on a train ride at times, because I feel here and there in a matter of 5 minutes to the hours that we are together and I look at the world different there on.

You change me, you’ve defined me wholely now.
I am the person I am now, because of you.
I yearn for you when I feel lost and anxious.
The nursing feeling in your voice when you say my name and when we say silly things to each other.
Your laugh.
The nerves in me chemically react so many emotions in my mind during those times, there’s probably much panic inside of me. My internal systems.

Sometimes I turn my cheek to let the butterflies go a few at a time, while the train continues to run.
I watch them go about over the fields that I imagine that they’d be happy to journey through.
Then we find ourselves venturing each other, when I turn my cheek back to you.
You kiss it, and things are hectic and pause altogether at the same time.
It’s the most fascinating thing next to pleasuring you.
Next to, you.
You and everything of you.
I neglect myself entirely to not neglect myself of you, because of the bliss you give to me.

I am afraid to make something of myself on my own, because I don’t know how to go back to being something without your voice echoing my name in my ears.
I want to keep the train going because there’s soothing in this ride.
I am afraid of things becoming nostalgic and only nostalgic to the point that they will feel made up sometime soon.
So would you care to continue giving me these experiences?
I need continue to have these escapades or I will find you plain one day and maybe the
colors that bleed out of me now will run me dry.
And I will eventually get up whilst you are mid-sentence and turn my back to you.
I don’t want that.

There won’t be you in anybody else, tell me that.
Assure me of that now, please.
I need the tides, the moon, the meteors, the sand, the colors, the blood to rush, the heart to beat, I need the butterflies, I need everything.
Until I am strong enough to know what to make of it.

I am afraid of nostalgia.
I am afraid of closing my eyes one day while you are saying my name, and feel nothing.
I need the sweat to continue to collect, I need the comfort, I need your eyes to provide the sceneries, I need our friction.

I am afraid of nostalgia.
I am afraid of new.
I am afraid of change.
I need to feel the train running smoothly at all times, I need the motion sickness to be blocked out by the love that you fill me with.

I am afraid of nostalgia.
I am afraid of new.
I distinctly allow myself to remember you swiftly once, and in detail the next.
Because you don’t give me consistency.
I never know when you are going to allow me to see you again.

I walk into nostalgia and then I feel you tug on my shirt and I run to you as soon as your body warmth is close enough for me to feel.
The sweat collects.
And I feel the absence and presence of gravity, the moon, and the tides behind me.
I hear them.
And I come running.

sincerely, jdm.

lost in translation.


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the leafs are changing again
and we’re in the same place
how crazy that the same heart that loves
can be the same one that hates
both require passion
both require space
both require you

you are your brain
your brain is you
your brain makes you conscious
your brain along with its nerves
feel when I graze my fingertips along
your back when you’re tired
and your face when you’re near

our mouths are only active when courageous
and I fall to shyness so I say little
but eyes can say things too, without a tongue
the same tongue that can spill out adoration
amongst words
can curse at you and wish bad things
but still can intertwine itself to another
in love or in hate
in love or in hate, my goodness
are you hearing this? It breaks me
the passion on the tongue spreads like a liquid substance
through your veins
that burns, and hurts, but feels like ecstasy
my goodness but the pain is avoidable, how absurd
how divine
it’s real, it happens

I have felt it,
I am sure of the feeling
it is as if you’re staring at the sun
and the stars simultaneously
they show themselves to you
and your skin absorbs it
every part of you feels like there is gravity absent and it can sure make you feel like it is very true
I have felt it
with you

the heart always receives blame
but it is our eyes that are seeing
the leafs change and our brain
puts the picture together for
the realization that we are in the same
damn place that we were in last year
and grief pushes onto us because
we are so lost
so so lost

and we want to do things right so badly
but our brain wants our nerves to feel
the sensation of fingertips running on our
skin so the brain leads your fingers on
his skin

and his skin is so soft
and love is spilling out of you in various places
and it is hard to contain yourself
live falls in the floor and so do you

I hope we learn our lesson sooner than later
because the floor is hurting and our mind has got itself going insane
and it is blaming the heart
but the poor heart is only pumping blood to it
with hope that one day it will stop and learn
its lesson before it cannot pump further

we leave a lot of words trapped on the tip of our tongues
wouldn’t you say? don’t speak
your words chastise me
they’re so drowning and it’s bad because I want to swim in them but I shouldn’t these waters roar
These tongues will place themselves on one another so that we may not be expected to
exchange how we feel
but let our bodies say
but it is our brain leading our whole selfs into these situations
and we damn our mouths and tongues
and hearts
and everything
when it should be our thought process

the one that began with a twinkle in the eyes
that made your blood boil in your heart
and your brain shattered leadership amongst
every inch of you to walk yourself into
a big mess
a big big mess
because you are being controlled
by minor parts of you
and you are falling apart

in the name of love
but he tastes so sweet
and lovely.

sincerely, jdm.

things that my eyes say, but my mouth won’t.


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It’s not fair that I see fields of the greenest pasture in your eyes and you only see the brown in mine
Are you looking hard enough?
Maybe you’ll find what you’re looking

Thinking about you drives me to and from confusion and disappointment
Over and over.

But I refuse to move. You aren’t good for me
But I can be for you.
So why be selfish?
Don’t move.
That’s what I do.

You haven’t conquered me but you’ve conquered my mind
You’ve made it your home
Without asking if I could make space for you
But now you’re the sunlight peering in from
my window in the morning while the song I had playing last night into my sleep repeats itself but in a non-melancholy way as opposed to the night before
where I could hardly keep myself composed
In thought that you’re the only person that gets me because I let myself be gotten by you because I wanted you
I want you

So why be selfish?
Don’t move.
That’s what I do.

Time is something we don’t have
And we’re always chasing the sun
And the moon
Then the sun
And moon
Like we expect for the moon to pick to come first one day miraculously and the sun second

It’s the oddest thing because we like consistency and hate change
But we want change so badly sometimes
Because we dislike that consistency

You’re a poem that’s easy to love in the first line and easy to hate by the third
Love in the fourth
Hate by the sixth
But I hope to hate you in the seventh
And love you in the ninth

The final line.

You’re an ocean and there’s far more to you than just the shoreline and a mile in.
I hope you know.

It’s not a question of whether you choose me or not.

I’m not selfish, however I am doing myself
some good in choosing to love on you
even though your cheek is turned away from me
I will kiss it, and let it say much more than just that

My kiss will leave things lingering on your skin far more than the love I hold for you.

Far more than words.

The sensation will taunt you.

Like you taunt me.

Things are changing
I’m staying
Not moving
That’s what I’m doing.

These are things that my eyes say, but my mouth won’t.

These are things that I want to say, but you occupy my mouth

in words and having it connect with yours.

sincerely , jdm.

teeth marks.


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do you ever feel consumed by a song?

consumed by a setting..

consumed by your surroundings..

consumed by a person..

does it make you weak or brave that

you can so effortlessly be consumed?

can you only tell if you make it out alive?

by how many teeth marks there are on you?

by how satisfying or unsatisfying you were?

does it make a difference if you give in?


sometimes I feel like songs access feelings that I never knew were there

tears welcome themselves out of my eyes, onto my cheeks

and I’m asking myself if I am weak or brave.


sometimes a setting blocks me out of itself only to be zoned out of

onto a new setting where I have it all figured out

everyone figured out

but it haunts me, and peace mocks me, then it all falls on me

and I’m asking myself if I am weak or brave.


sometimes my surroundings grow roots to extend into my heart

metaphorically, but my goodness, I feel them scratching at

my heart with their pointy ends 

and the attention begging gets to me, I shut my eyes

I cover my ears, firmly

but they are making my heart sting horribly

and I’m asking myself if I am weak or brave.


sometimes the forces of flesh and the universe combine

and I find myself in the arms of a man that thinks

possibly very little of me

but I kiss him, because I have passion to give

we end up being something so fragile

unlikely to last


but the kisses are mending

the touches are electrifying

the tongue in expressive form of letting words be uttered and letting ectstasy be felt

by touching another tongue and I am over here looking at you, look at me

looking at me, looking at you

wanting you to consume me in looks, sexually, verbally

I am over here asking myself if I am weak or brave.

with your few teeth marks on my body, alive, satisfied 


but bleeding, almost dead, and dissatisfied



only to ask myself again if I am weak or brave in a quiet manner, and I

don’t have an answer.

sincerely, jdm.


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