Ismael Garay HINDSIGHT BEING 20/20 It was in our dreams we bled the most, and I don’t know how much we salvaged, some qualities are not meant to be measured. What I have has always been mine. I wanted Christ to save me, but I could never afford to give this much– I don’t know how you came to me perhaps I made you up with words. Yet, in spite of it all, you still seemed to care– now I wonder where you’ve drifted off to, I wonder how much of me is left, but was it ever mine to begin with? UNTITLED We are still stained with the tears of youth, defined by what others think. I was never very good at living someone else’s life. I have come this far on the fuel of my own crazy thoughts. DRUNK LATE AT NIGHT Screaming lyrics on the pigeon street I let my hair down and begin to stalk the moon. Having drunk too much wine I am a new age prophet with nothing to fear– the blood burns in the words. The fever rages with tongues dangling from the sky, tasting me briefly as I dance with abandon in wine, then crash into the daylight and pretend to be alive.