Memories Sliding

This is the bar of broken survivors,

the club of shotgun,

knife wound, of poison by culture.

Here they come those tricky

memories sliding

in like the ghosts they imitate.

Dealt with reality is better to be with

Without dealing with reality

nothing is sure.

I cried for my soul,

I cried for the world's soul.

The world has a beautiful soul.

We jazz June, we died soon.

Behind the smooth texture of my eyes,

why me,

a part of me has died.

I wonder how I will survive

in this world.

At the same time I try to block

every thing out.

Sippy Perez

5/26/99