La Llorona

Drifting in and out of here or there

Thursday, September 06, 2007


Have I been 500 years or two? Where are my babies, why can't I stop acheing for them. The brown earthy scents of them, the clean baby hair of them. The blood of them. No - no blood. No heart beating down where each pulse makes more flow. No. The scent of blood, the river, the pouring swirling red, rojo silent and screams gone and just stillness after the kicking and weeping only as my heart breaks again and again and again. Why did I have to remember the scent of them. It always breaks down into bloodness. Sour, thick. Ohhhhhhhhhh I ache in my heart and my skin and my hair and all those other imaginary parts not left to me. My pulse without a pulse.