I believe one of my residents was a lumberjack or body builder. They are a very physically strong female that has already left me with a scar on my chest and now fingernail imprints on my forearm. Some days it is a battle to get them into bed in order to change them and get them off of their butt because I genuinely care about their well being and whether or not they get pressure ulcers but some nights it is very testing and although there are people like me that care a whole lot about whether someone has been sitting in their own feces and urine for 3+ hours in the same position - I stopped questioning whether or not is it worth it because I have seen pressure ulcers that I can fit my entire fist into. I keep reminding myself of that and that I am the only thing that protects them from that happening to them. 

I’ve been making a list of the things they don’t teach you at school. They don’t teach you how to love somebody. They don’t teach you how to be famous. They don’t teach you how to be rich or how to be poor. They don’t teach you how to walk away from someone you don’t love any longer. They don’t teach you how to know what’s going on in someone else’s mind. They don’t teach you what to say to someone who’s dying. They don’t teach you anything worth knowing.
I bought yours

I could not
Love her the way I love you
Even when her back is pressed
Into me and I feel her breaths
Through the rise and fall
Of a thousand oceans
Lapping along the shoreline
Her pulse is the sound
Of bird wings flapping through the air
But what stands out the most
Is her warmth
The heat of a thousand suns
Your heart is the one I hear pounding in my ears
When I put my index fingers in them
trying to hear the ocean through seashells like we used to
You had ones in your bathroom
The wallpaper had them - the soap was molded into them - your hand and bath towels had their shapes engraved in them by the gods
It was all I could hear when I put my ear to your chest
On the nights I would exhaust myself from crying as you held me
I would shake something terrible
And the mountains that were my knees would bow to your voice

I now wake up to open windows and the roar of the ocean playing back at me from a soumd machine I bought at a thrift store

And they say you can not buy someone’s heart

I bought yours

I looked at her crying
But don’t you realize
You have people in your life
In your hometown
And I am not
I am distanced from them
They do not know who I am
So use me
To talk to
To just rant
I do not know these people
So what does it matter
I only know you
Use me as an escape
To the oasis in the middle of the desert

the best writers - photographers  - scholars - dreamers..

The best people always seem to be the saddest. And the best works seem to come from their sadness. 

There is this center and this darkness you find yourself in - and you know that in these depths there are a lot of things there that no one else can see unless they are there. So we bring them out. And they’re not to scare you or to haunt you in the middle of the night - to bring nightmares about. But they’re to make you believe in something outside of yourself and that there is a place other than where you are. That we are not just specks in this universe and that your home you go to each night is the same we go to in the day to see what it is like to be Happy. 

I always envisioned being the lover that took care of the love of my life
that I would be the rock that would pick up the pieces every single time

but I have found that is someone I could never be
not for anyone
because I am the one that needs the rock and the pieces picked up

my comfort is in my silence and the way I hold you when you cry

because I never know much of what to say

but somehow I always know how to make you feel better

even if it’s not close to smiling

I’ll take it

She had the most beautiful eyes
I could get lost in them for days
But it was the way she walked
 Carried herself about
How one would say
You would walk like that when you knew you were dying

She had the most beautiful eyes
I could get lost in them for days
But it was the way she walked
Carried herself about
How one would say
You would walk like that when you knew you were dying

I just feel like crying all of the time
She said without looking at me
I knew what she meant
But i didnt know how to form the words
My mouth quit working last week
After i yelled at the sky for doing this to me
You dont say i know or
Admit you have the same problems
My mother would say
You would think my eyes would have given me away by now
My posture or when i stop
At the gas station with red eyes
And a very poor complexion
People dont notice
The crooked noses of the old men
Or the way her fingers were calloused in only certain spots
The way her hair falls into her face
Or the curves of her body
No one notices or cares or admits they notice.
You are my no one


♥ Sergio Albiac


♥ Sergio Albiac