Life Update!

 It has really been a long time since I've written anything here. Figured I'd drop some info which pertains to my absence. As it turns out, I was faced with some very horrible odds, as a child and as an adult I was trafficked (this means being sold without my consent or permission), which has in turn led me to have a very strange way of being. I always wanted to express my emotional state using art, which is what this blog has been all about. It was important for me to try and get out what I had inside, because I felt like no one understood me. Guess the thing is that I didn't understand myself all that well either. When they tell you that someone will burry trauma only to surface later, believe them. It took a lot of self tallying to get to the point where I was comfortable remembering. It is not easy to dredge back up decades worth of abuse.

As such, I've been living in this little place called Clarksville. This town at first seemed wholesome and okay, but like a bitch of a dog its underbelly was and is full of bloodsucking parasites. I've had the displeasure of meeting a good number of them. It sucks, being sweet for them, as they always seem to be sociopaths and with a background in people pleasing as I have, they are attracted to me like flies to the beer light. Clearly, Jose Duvan Salazar, the man who was drugging me and torturing me in South America was right when he said "I have friends all over the world." It appears so.

These people I've run into here all use the same methodology, devils breath, in order to achieve their goals of controlling, torturing, and feeding their wicked little hearts with the pain of others. Sadists, and perverts, the lot of them. Their connections with the underworld are clear just by the tools they use. They've made themselves known because they think I'm not going to remember, but the joke is on them I see, because I have pretty much every time. "No one ever remembers" should be on a tshirt for them all to wear, like a chorus.

There have been people who did this to me whom I have had no problems with in the past, who only after my return from South America have gone out of their way to hurt me. This really does direct them, so Salazar certainly has friends in all of these people. Child pornographers, killers, rapists, and thieves. I am not afraid to say any of this because while they scuddle about in the shadows, I'm strolling in the light, and they hate the light. I've gone public with a lot, and it has been a liberating thing to do. Because I want them to know a couple of things.

One - I remember

Two - I know their faces

Three - All of the images of have of me are probably of an illegal nature, pictures taken of me while under duress, while being tortured, hurt, manipulated. These are crimes against Humanity. I know this may not mean much to some of you, but in the grand scheme of things everything you've done so far has been a violation against my human rights.

Four - The law knows all of our names

In the end, I've had to borrow one saying from Salazar, and from my mother. If one falls, everyone falls. Thing is I already died once, in that print shop. I went to the other side, and from there I was given the choice to come back but was warned it would be a difficult battle. I agreed to it, which means that My Astral self knows that it is a battle it can fight, and will fight, to the bitter end. Every single day since I came back from death has been a gift, from the ultimate source, a gift which I dare not waste. So while you all plot my demise, do remember this: I know where I'm going when I die, do you? When I say this understand that it is with surety and calm that I say all of these words.

And so I leave you with something I haven't done through Blogger, ever. At least I don't think I have, I will be sharing a video journal which I made regarding and over all look at what happened, how I've dealt with it, and how I've learned to protect myself. Remember, cilantro keeps your mind lucid, salt helps you regain some control. Don't forget that the greatest trick the devil pulled was convincing the world he did not exist, or should I say she? Stay tunned, more to come.

A Survival Story

Monsters

You spend years hoping for someone to love, and there are those just waiting for you out there, people who hide the fangs and sharp talons in their skin bag garbs. Those people, some would call them people, are the true monsters that hide under your bed, behind the curtains, in the dark corners. They await a chance to sink their teeth in, to rip you apart, because they don't know better. Animals, they are no better than animals. All they know is pain and carnal pleasure, it is all they seek. This planet just happens to be inundated by them right now, they are all over. It is hard to imagine a world free of them, it is impossible. They are what nightmares are made of, they are the creatures that you have feared your entire childhood, the true inspirations for the vampire and werewolf, they are sociopathic, killers, and would eat you whole if given the chance.

So don't give them the chance, don't allow them in. Who are they? How can you tell? I pray you tell, for I cannot show you the way, I have only just started to realise the dangerous beings that roam in the darkness, seen their eyes, felt their teeth, lost a limb or two to them. I am just here to warn you, beware.

You deserve each other, you and those monsters

There is no easy way to say this

but I've been thinking about turning

not running but rather

kind of like a werewolf thing

unexpected, transcendental,

not a kin to your kind anymore

I mean, who would want to be?

To be known as your ex lover

to be seen as someone you once held

it is repugnant, to think I shared myself

to the last drop, with the likes of you

your family, your friends, the lot of rats

merely scrapping by, because that is

all you know and can do.

Once I tried to help you, twice I did lift you up,

and yet three times you did betrayed me, then the fourth

you left me to die in their hands.

You knew exactly what you were doing

taking away from me all that I held dear

my own choice to say yes or no, to consent.

To you it was just a game to play

just another piece of meat to bite into.

I loved you, and I gave so much of myself to you,

and as before I was betrayed by a most heinous of acts

done by a heartless bitch just wanting to get rich quick

because you never knew how to sell your mind

the work you did with your hands wasn't enough

if it wasn't holding onto someones cock

and you couldn't do any good talking with your mouth

so you had to get on your knees and pray for milk

with your baby boy so he could eat.

You deserve all you get,

all of the lies you are fed,

all of the people who will use you,

you deserve each and every moment you hate

the smell of the garbage pickers on top of you

because your love is something to be sold

because you can be bought and traded like a commodity

there is nothing about you which is redeeming,

there is nothing about you which can be saved.

I do not want to belong to the same genus as you

I do not wish to be cataloged among the same lines

as someone who will sell their own blood young and fragile

as someone who will take pure love and corrupt it with hate

To be with you was a learning experience of all I do not want

To be with you was a task to be completed in order to grow

Now all I can think of is making my memories of you disappear

Now all I can think of is remembering you so I do not forget

Why I want to become something else
Why I want to be free of you.

Conversation With a Recovering Sex Worker

"They all have a prize" she said,
"Each woman out there is willing,
has, probably is at this very moment,
selling herself for something.
Some do it for love, others for money,
there are those who do it for need
be it food drink or drug,
others just like the way it feels
to have a cock inside of them
that loveless embrace and meaningless fuck,
with some cash thrown on top
anything is good enough for them to cum."

She sips her coffee,
lights another cigarette
and as she looks down
cup in one hand resting on the table
bitting her pinky finger
then taking a big drag of smoke
and as she exhales she says

"But all of those women,
especially those who do it
for money or for drugs,
will have to fuck guys who are just dirty,
their cocks unwashed for days
with that white smegma shit on them
and who knows what else!
That rancid sweaty smell–
some stinking of garbage
others just violent assholes. You know,
the moment they close that door
those women are slaves to those men,
sex slaves. They've sold themselves
for twenty thousand pesos, their freedom
for one hour, they belong to them."

She takes another drag from her smoke,
her voice is shaky, her grip on the glass is tight.

"Those men are the kind of people
who'll do all sorts of perverted things,
especially to a young woman,
they like to see a pretty face wince in pain,
a pleasurable agony."

She looks towards the green mountains,
past the city skyline, past the busy and working city
as a serene air comes through the large windows

"I stopped doing that a long time ago,
sure I have my price, but it isn't some thing
just anyone can pay for. I gotta like you,
you've got to buy me dinner,
take me out dancing, show me
a good time around town.
Then, when we are back at your place,
then, and only after we've met MY
expectations, then you can ravage me,
or I you. Well, not you you, but
you know what I mean, don't you darling?"

She snuffs her cigarette.

This is the ebb of the tide of our love

I asked her if she was going to sell her body again
she said she didn't want to talk about it right then
so there was something to talk about
something to be aired

It wasn't hard to figure out,
she was making ends-meet when I met her
then once we hung out
she told me of all the evil things in her life

her boss who is always asking for head
because he said he needed to get off
it made him feel better, she said
his balls hurt, it was the clap

when I first noticed it
I showed her what was going on
she thought that always happened
that it was normal in all men

before I had gone to her work,
because she invited me to
every day she said I made her feel safe
for two whole months.

She was still working,
not making enough money
although the designs all went out
she made a measly dollar per

though when she staid on
without me there
doing her deed in the bathroom
she could pay
for her babys' food and then some

so she told me one day
it is over
that is that, I cannot have this with you
She got new clothes and make up

Her shoes were also new
everything about Her changed
Her demeanor towards me
there was another man

other men
the smell on her, the ebb
in her
unnatural

clap
slow
patient
rising out and through

and that fucker told her it was normal
for your dick to drip like that
and she believed him
bringing it into our bedroom

I loved her
with every ounce of my being
although with this betrayal
I could only learn to forget her

and these realizations were just the beginning...

Contrary to popular opinion I want to LIVE!

When your life is a roller coaster
you've got no choice
other than to take that ride
enjoy your time in the light
shadows and spikes
like a neon forest
climbing up the side
its glow engulfs you just
as you fall down so hard
as you fall down so far
that the only thing you've got
is that breath
coming quickly in and out
you're so in love with it
you're so in love with it
with yourself, and that is okay
because we all want to live
we all need a break

Her Eyes Shone Like An Accretion Disk

She speaks to me in code
with the way everything came back
the memories
of nights at that bar just talking,

chatting, asking to just imagine
how blessed one must be
to be able to teach someone
to make love again.

Then I didn't know
I was completely unaware of it,
I had never had that chance
and never thought I would get.

Until I met you
and we went into that room
where we took off most of our clothes
making love without kissing.

We talked afterwards
you looked at my tattoos
I looked at your lips
the gap in your thighs

We didn't get to exchange numbers
but I looked for you there
many times
many many times

and you probably saw me
but you didn't let me know

I wanted to love you
something inside me just
wanted to love you
all I really wanted

Time passed, washing away
what happened that night
putting it in the back of my head, memory
where I never suspected it would come back.

So we met that day
9 months later
and you pretended, as
I pretended

like it had never been.

We saw each other
not 15 hours later
to catch a movie
about gentlemen with umbrellas

I touched your hand
I held it in mine
and from that moment
You had me.

I didn't care where I'd met you
before, on the streets
all I could see was that beautiful being
there, inside your eyes.

Flickering screen turned into flickering dance floor
we moved, swinging to the music
and just as the place closed
I kissed your lips

Then just outside on 23rd I kissed you,
then on 17th and 6th
again on 15th and 6th
all the way to 12th and 6th

Until you came up to my place,
invited because I knew your friends,
we talked about this night
then we went to my bed

I touched your skin softly
making amends where I could
stitching together the gaps
in your corporal heart.

Tearing my own out
undoing years of slowly sowing
stitches together, I found you
but you unraveled into a lie

with the Cinnamon water
blessed by a priest
sprinkled inside the corners
offering to open up some truths

which just came pouring out
like a sickness slowly dripping
to the sound of meeting hands
painful globes and wretched stench

of the truth leaking out.
She said it was normal
to feel this way
I said it was a terrible way to live.

She said I'd taught her
how to make love again
feeling herself in the moment
not having to forget.

For that I am thankful
because that night
so many years ago
sitting at that bar in Coral Springs

Sour Girl and I had our chance meeting
without much do or say
we were dancing around each other
like stellar bodies nearing decay.

You spoke truths
words that echoed through time and space
did I not listen well enough?
Where were you from?

Live Long and Prosper.

On a rainy day, court is in business.

There in the court

with the massive Queen

which sits in the middle of the great hall

just spitting out words to the masses, orders

Our lovely maiden–anticipates
swords unsheathed all in a row, stiff

a queue of would be gentlemen await her

across the entrance of the great hall.

While their hands tightly grasp their swords

their lips whispering of her great deeds,

it rains as the Queen loudly drowns away

a soothing sound of water coming down.

If it doesn't rain, the land withers.

If it doesn't rain, the crops die.

If it doesn't rain, there is no dinner.

If it doesn't rain, babies starve.

So she saves the world

enchanting crowds with red lips

floats across the open court

on her nimbus cloud.

Trying

I waited to throw out the cigarette butts with your lipstick on them. I just couldn't bring myself to before, but now it's no biggie. I guess it's my way of cutting it out of me.

Eviceral

That moment when you feel something cold and distant in your bones, when the pit of your stomach falls to depths unknown, and all you can do is watch processions of emotions crawling their way down your throat.


Eviceral.

Captive Audience

Hanging on to the back of The Dragon, on with
plumes of smoke, floating resonance through the mountains
inlaid with the popular neighborhoods of the birth land.
Faces smile, bellies swell with booze
and echoing laughter resounds through the air.

Watching the iron birds fly in from behind a chained link fence,
in a country where terror is just a corner away
most times all we find is smiling faces
filling the air with freedom and grace.
No wonder they want to take it away.

People come back from captivity,
the nine to five grind of the "American Dream,"
back to a reality they'd lost with "American Idol"
infused with propaganda legally rectified sealed and processed,
to smell freedom in the air puffed just a few feet away.

In the words of a drunken genius clown
who levitated 6 machetes, 3 balls, and 4 pins
up in the air for the world to see,
right on 24 and 6th, in front of the coffee shop
where the green worm makes a left turn:

"Thing I love about all of you Pereiranos is that you're rebels.
You do things the way YOU'RE gonna do them."
So he took a swig from his alcohol just as he joined
a dispersing crowd who carefully ran away
from the falling machetes, balls, and pins.

Sunsets come up every night in conversation
as the day slowly wonders into night with twilight
close behind the two, it is never sure which way to go,
covered in golden twilight splendor
memories are recorded, stored, to be later remembered.

Floating along on the back of the dragon,
plumes of smoke behind and
there she sits with her one hand in her hair
as the other passes the spliff she rolled with Prometheus–
Eris just loves to be around good company.

Thoughts while she's getting naked

She looks cute
I like the way her hair smells
Her skin is so soft
Her thighs are as well
Her form envelops my mind
In the lustful things
That I am about to do
Between her thighs

As we climb the stairs

Past the gated door

Into her realm

of sexual ecstasy

Soft skin gives way to fingers
Coursing through closer
Just as she takes off her top
One thought comes to mind
With her sagging belly skin
Her reluctance to remove her bra
This whore is someones mother

Naked With Sour Girl

When she used to grab my shoulders, digging her nails
into my skin at the rhythm of our fucking, it used to be
enough to almost make me explode inside her. Now it’s not
enough to just have her nail marks on my back, I want
her bite marks on my neck, I want bruises on my sides
from her thighs wrapping themselves hard around me
as I pound and choke her into ecstasy eternal, my balls
covered in our cum.

There was something about needles that always
perturbed me, something about the way they would
plunge into my veins and then made all that liquid
disappear. It just never seemed natural. Then
one day I had my first taste of an opiate, intravenously,
and my relationship with needles changed drastically.
I had never felt such exhilaration at the elation of that hard
steel needle, plunging through my being, penetrating me,
then releasing its payload into my vein. It still
makes me hard every time I think about Sour Girl, my heroin.

Now this old companion has grown, it has
made its way into the circles I keep and
without fail has taken the heads of
a few people I’ve escaped hell with. There is
something to be said about the ones who have cut off
their own strings and burnt their own bridges, but that
is another poem all together about floating corpses
in the milky waters of the river Alf.

Gin used to taste terrible, its strong flavor would
make the sides of my tongue burn, the place where
my jaw and skull met would ache, much the way Vodka
makes me feel today. Then it was distasteful, but today
it is what I usually like to order, and with a simple “Gin
and Tonic, please,” my youth slips down my throat.

Speedy drugs had never been something I wanted to try,
look at, or even get into. Time starts to change its flow as
one gets older though, the days get shorter, the change of the seasons
becomes more apparent and enunciated by the aching
muscles and bones. To keep up through the pain and fatigue,
now there will always be methamphetamine.

Sometimes it is easy to forget when I meet you,
sometimes I’m reminded after I pass you.
It is not so much that I’m afraid of you,
but of the experience I’ll be missing. I eat my drugs
and drink my gin, toasting to old friends I’ll never see again.

Postcards To Hitler (part 2)

Who was dancing in the middle of hell?
It was me, with the whore and swill.
Wish you coulda' been there,
it was full of fun, they had this fantastic
grilled tofu. It made the evening.

Hot Box Rental

There is a hologram that reminds of your golden splendor

another apparition of irresistible charm and woe,

so full of love and willing to commit itself to a life of rendering.

All in the name of passion, a life of unforeseen circumstances.

Postcards to Hitler

Correspondence with heaven, send a letter to see the devil

Spend a lifetime waiting for a response. We just didn't know,

there was no way to know. Everything fell into place when we feared

our own shadow as it made its way to hide behind us, we faced him

it was then that we drew, our conclusions became delusions

floating on the ether, high upon the clouds

riding the back of Pegasus, the winged muse of hope.

Junkies

People dance on the streets,
streets covered in shit and piss,
but they still dance all the same.
As the little bit they share

of fun and debauchery
course through their vain,
meanwhile just on the other side
people starve and beg for food.

The happiest people on earth
all have a reason to look away,
otherwise the front they've built would fall,
they wouldn't be as happy.

To truly see the pitiful eyes of the addict
begging for more change,
will make anyones heart quiver with pity.
So instead of looking

deep into their darkened ocular orbs, sharing that pain,
making that human connection for just one second,
it is easier to reach into pockets
paying off the junkies to walk away.

Junkies know and use this to their advantage, beggars
making sure to look into their darkened
empty souls, asking them to make a donation
to the nation of addiction and injections.

People dance, dance the pain away.
Needles drop on the ground, junkies
shooting away the day, trying to be
the happiest people on earth.

©Who_Leo All Rights Reserved

©Who_Leo All Rights Reserved

All Images Are © By Who_Leo May Not Be Used Or Shared.

Empty Seats

Every where I go
there are empty chairs in front of me
and no matter what I do
there is nothing that can change that fact

unless I spend my time with some junkie
unless I spend my time with some whores
unless I spend my time with another husk
of the people I used to know.

It's not so easy, to breathe freely.
"A lifetime of fucking things up,
all summed up in one determined flash."
No one wants to sit across from that.

Who wants to share my pain?
Who wants to share in my joy?
Who wants to share in the way I see the world?
Who would want to sit across for me at dinner,

starring deep into my eyes
as I complain that the carrots and the peas
make me feel like I could scream
at the top of my lungs FREE PALESTINE!

No one, at least no one I've met yet.
Each night I sit alone,
consuming the necessary protein
to survive another day

so that I may sit across from another
empty chair, mocking my intelligence
integrity, sanity, and reminding me of my negligence
when it comes to make friends.

Good-Bye's: A juxtaposition.

There she is,
blonde hair and painted up face
with her beautifully crooked smile,
her soft eyes peering through the crowds.

"Where is he? He's not here.
Good.
Now I may resume life."

There he is,
black hair and painted up skin
with his beautifully crooked spine,
his bright eyes peering through the clouds.

"Here I am. She's not near.
Good.
Now I may start life."

Songs of Velvet inundate her ears
as warmth fills the back of her skull,
she collapses onto her bed–
dreaming of days long before.

"I rest my head upon my pillow.
Tired."

Songs' Folds inundate his ears
as cold mountain breezes brush his skin,
he rises from the stairs–
walking with carefully calculated steps.

"I lift my head into the sunlight.
Alive."

Four Years

Four years ago I met you,

those golden locks

like a fleece to be worn

by those who earn your love,

yet I never made a grab at

such wonder when

you had exposed that soft,

pink underbelly, the morning after,

as we smoked hand rolled fags

on the porch of your luxurious beach

home, I could have had it all.

Regret is bitter, that is why

you will always be my sour girl.