— Esu Emmanuel©️, What does one do in a world that does not love, that does not think, that does not feel, that does not look and does not care to look? What does one do in a space where coldness and insensitivity are the sovereign protectors of meanness? What does one do in a place where, before giving a hand to help, one tramples the fallen to bury him more? What does one do in a paradise that smells of rottenness and evil? One cannot sing, nor dance, nor dream. The pain of misfortune is too much for the lyre to be able to play. Where does the poet become when the world forces him to sin to become a wretched prostitute of society?
— Esu Emmanuel©️, If you have time, you are free... Value that freedom. Create, be passionate and live, search among the hours for a reason to really exist, because you are not what you earn by investing your time in something fleeting as it is to obtain wealth, in the end you will not take it with you. On the other hand, making your time your own history, that will last in the long run.
Jorge Luis Borges, Poesía completa. Religio Medici, 1643
Puede ser que hoy decida ya no despertar. Puede ser que hoy sea el último día que menciones mi nombre anunciando tu llegada. Y estaré ahí para ti. Siempre, eso tenlo por seguro. Aunque mi cuarto vacío parezca no albergar más que mi ausencia. Amor, estate tranquila, en ese silencio también estaré.
Erika L. Sánchez, from Lessons on Expulsion: Poems; “Amá”
[Text ID: “In One Hundred Years of Solitude, / Márquez wrote that we are birthed / by our mothers only once, but life obligates / us to give birth / to ourselves over and over.”]
Árbol en invierno
Y no hay amor por el que morir
ya que no hay amor en lo absoluto.
Mi vida es como un árbol en invierno
Mi alma es como un árbol en invierno
sin vida, sin hojas, seco.
Y esa adolescencia soñada que tanto he anhelado
jamás llegará
porque los años han pasado
y ya soy demasiado grande para soñar.
El tiempo ha sido arrastrado por la tristeza
junto con la persona que tanto quise ser
y no pude
y no puedo
y nunca podré.
“s*x is the consolation you have when you can’t have love”
you begged me not to leave, you told me you couldn’t live without me, and then you left and started thriving. you then went on to tell everyone that i was toxic and abusive after you trapped me for a year



