No writing today
No drawing
No painting
No talky talk talk
No screaming at the sky
No crying out "why!" "why!" why!"
No creativity
No thinking
No drawn out sighs
No pain
No suffering
No one to blame
No me
No you
No one who says, "That's it! We're through!"
None of this stuff
None of my telling you, "I've had enough"
No conventions
No honorable mentions
No Fame
No one remembering my name
No complaints
No restraints
No one I blame
No dreams
No schemes
No consciousness flowing upon streams.
No life
No strife
No wrists cut with a dull rusty knife
No accusations
No contemplations
No sub par
No liquor in MY coffee bar
No absurdity
No mediocrity
No seagulls soaring above the clouds
No memories
No fears
No no one who refuses to hear...
No love
No hate
No immediate gratification that must wait.
No pain
No gain
No repeating that word once again
On the edge of the Texas-Tamaulipas border, where the buzzards float overhead awaiting dehydrated Mexican seekers of the "American Dream" take their last step in the desert, I came to a deep ravine. I placed my back to the dark abyss and let myself fall backwards... into Mexico. Almost 3 years after the creation of "Dead Man Walking; Alive in Mexico (June 2011) I realize that I am very alive...
Pico de Orizaba
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