HUMANITY

I am a poet

A killer of minds

A hopeless loser

I have done deeds

That I’m not proud of in the least

Yet I have no regrets

I have stabbed men

Tortured them

Left them lingering

Inches from death

Yet I have no regrets

I have stabbed myself

Beaten myself

Tried to kill myself

On numerous attempts

Yet I have no regrets

Janet stabbed me

Silvia tried to kill me

My ex never loved me

M… never gave me a chance

Yet I have no regrets

I lost many friends

I get lonely sometimes

I have trouble speaking on it

Yet I have no regrets

No

Fuck that!

I have regrets

I regret the disparity

I regret the uncertainty

The isolation

The pointless waiting

The wasted time

I have some regrets

But what do you expect

I’m just human after all

I’m human

BY OSCAR TORRES LEON

 

 

FIRST NIGHTMARE

It Started when I was five

That’s when I had the first nightmare

I found myself in darkness

It felt like I was in another world

I walked towards a figure in the distance

When I finally got closer

I cloud see that it was a girl

She was wearing a white dress

And then I saw him

I wanted to protect her

But he took her

Put her in some kind of machine

And the machine crushed her

And I could hear her scream

And him laugh

And I dropped to my knees

Sobbing

Screaming “Why?”

He looked at me and said

“You can’t have her”

And I cried harder

I woke up crying

Not understanding what had happened

Not knowing why I felt sad

I was just a little boy

A little boy who saw things at night

And the nightmares kept coming

BY OSCAR TORRES LEON

The Whispering Devils (nightmares)

They come for me at night

Eyes closed

Eyes closed

I enter the darkness

Eyes open

Can’t move

I can see everything around me

Eyes closed

There are sets of red glow everywhere

They’re getting closer

Which ones will show their faces this time

Eyes open

They’re here

One standing in the doorway

Another against the wall

Another sitting on the floor

Eyes closed

Back in the darkness

Trying to find light

Trying to find a dream

Trying to find my dream

Pressure on my chest

I can’t breathe

Something is on top of me

Eyes open

One’s choking me

Blood streams from his eyes

Trying to fight back

They whisper

“Come back to us”

“You can’t have her”

“Come back to us”

“You’ll never find her”

“Come back to us”

“Come home”

I try to scream

Try to wake up

Nothings coming out

Just low grunts

I manage to get an arm moving

I take his eye

Screeching

He releases

Drifts off

Eyes closed

I catch my breath

Eyes open

The other two are still there

The one on the floor

Small and pudgy

Childlike

Feasting on what looks like human flesh

The one by the wall

Tall and slender

Female like in figure

Inching towards me

Both staring

I rise

Move towards them

I Start screaming

Leave now! Let me fucking Sleep! Get out!

They slowly drift off

I feel weak

Turn around

I see my body

Shit! I have to get back in my body

I crawl back to it

Eyes closed

Eyes open

Eyes open

I check the time

It’s only been fifteen minutes

Since I laid down

It’s only been fifteen minutes

I just want to sleep

Neck hurts

Better wash this blood off

BY OSCAR TORRES LEON

NEVERLAND (the lost dream)

The first time I was there I walked slowly

Across the pebble pathway

The wind carried a wonderful warm scent of vanilla

Raising my head to breathe it in

Gazing at the sky

The sky a deep orange behind lavender clouds

At the end of the pathway sits a house

Surrounded by vibrant plants and flowers

Dark tree with red, pink and purple leaves

Falling gracefully on cobalt grass

I still can’t adequately describe

The feeling I felt there

As I neared the house

I could see a woman

Sitting on the front porch swing

with a child in her lap, a girl

And A young boy standing next to her

And I heard him say

“Look Mommy, it’s Daddy”

And then I woke up

dumbfounded, asking myself

Was that my wife, kids

I confused but mostly angry

Because I didn’t want to wake up

I didn’t want to leave

The second time I was there I didn’t walk

I ran

It was all the same

The vanilla scent, the soft warm wind

The colors of the sky

All of it

When I got to the porch the swing was empty

I sat and felt the smooth finish of the wood

Then I heard laughter in the back yard

I ran around the house and they were there

this time the little girl saying “Daddy”

Then I woke up

Every time I went back I tried to get closer

trying to see their faces

But I never could

I looked forward to sleep just to go back

But

The last time I was there

It was cold

Everything was black and gray

The house was empty

And then I saw him in the yard

The horned being with bloody eyes

And I knew what it meant

And I haven’t been there since

Going there was and is the reason I look forward to sleep

But I don’t get to sleep anymore

And I want to go home!

Because it’s more than just a dream

It’s MY DREAM!

And I want my dream back

It’s where I wanted to be

It’s was my Neverland

But the pirates of the night took it away from me

And I haven’t seen it again

All I have left are the nightmares

And the devils

The devils come for me every night

EVERY NIGHT

BY OSCAR TORRS LEON

AND I PRAY

I love you Lord, and I pray

Surprised I can still breathe another day

I know I’ve lived a crazy thuggish life

And I trying to get away

I’m trying Lord, that’s what I have to say

Lord there have been many times I’ve come to you

And Lord I know you sigh for the things I’ve done and do

I apologize, forgive me for my mistakes

I know I’ve hurt others and you

By the shaking of my faith

I’m not trying to take Lord

I’m trying to give

I’m not trying to die Lord

I’m trying to live

I’m not trying to kill

I’m trying to protect

I’m not trying to neglect

I’m trying to respect

I’m not trying to hate

I’m trying to love

But it hurts so much

When I don’t feel it from above

I don’t know how many years I have left

Before what comes next

But I hope you accept me

In the hour of my death

BY OSCAR TORRES LEON

These Hands

These hands

These hands are but tools

A means to an end

For others

At times they are weapons

Better know for destruction

And the evil deeds they’ve taken part in

But

These hands can do other things

These hands can create

Craft and build

These hands can guide and assist

Give care and protect

Connect through touch and gesture

For within these hands

There is love

To be given

But, not so much received

For there is more work to be done

And these hands

Must always be ready

BY OSCAR TORRES LEON

 

DO YOU ?

Do you cry when you’re alone?

Do you whimper to the sound

Of another’s voice

Pounding fear into your mind

Grinding thoughts together

Into a dark festival of failures and mishaps

Perhaps it’s the torment

Of the thing that voice belongs to

Which places you under a frozen status

Of helplessness

Crippling you to where you’re eyes

Can see nothing more than a lost soul

Drooling it’s saliva of existence

Into a pool of nothing

Do you cry when you’re alone?

Do you perspirate in cowardice

Under a dark and frightening figure

As if you were swimming in the sun

Under the flaming humidity

Of a summer’s eve

Drinking from a sultry glass

The hot sizzling liquid magma

Of which is a cool drink

Raising the ever so rising temperature

Of fearful containment

Fanning out ever so slightly

Through the cracks of your character

Which you call bravery

Do you cry when you’re alone?

Do you spit, spew and vomit to

A gut full of tainted emotions

To the taste of unforgivable madness

The sickening germs of morality and compassion

Feeling the sting of confused love

A returned ring

Feeding the rage in your heart

As you sink your teeth into

A sweet a bloody liquor-ish whip

Which bites into the flesh of a child

Who begins to feel his hot urine

Stream down his hills of innocence

Do you cry when you’re alone?

Do you go to bed awake at night

Only to fall asleep in the morning

To dream of the small contained room

Filled with the screeching yells

Of your child’s voice

With echoing sounds of blood

Dripping on the floor

Splattering on the wall

The ripping of tearing flesh

Of a cracking whip

Against weak feeble skins

The smell of sour sweat

Hot liquor breath

Urine and sickening musk

To hear yourself saying

“I do it because I love you!”

When it was really

“I do it because I hate me!”

Waking to the visions of a floor

Made a pool of blood, beer and sweat

And a bloody sobbing boy who

LOVES HIS DADDY!

Always there when you open your eyes

To remind you how you ruined

What could have been

A beautiful father and son relationship!

DO YOU CRY!

NOW THAT!

YOU!

ARE ALONE!

BY OSCAR TORRES  LEON