His Mind Is A Whirlwind Of Thoughts

IG: raulfelix275

He mounts his motorcycle,
Blood heavy with alcohol and weed.
He has no care for the stupidity of his actions.
His mind has gone to a dark place.
He wonders about the point of it all.
Whether it will be better to just let go.

He races down the freeway,
Zooming in between cars,
Keeping his iron steed steady.

His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts.
His usual sweet, friendly, and joyful demeanor,
Drowned in whiskey.
Anger, hatred, frustration, jealousy, rage,
Pain, loss, heartbreak, sadness,
Now reign supreme over all his emotions.
The darkness he buries deep inside,
Is now maliciously intent on destroying him.

The wind blows the tears from his face.
At the top of his lungs he curses those who have wronged him,
The events which have left permanent scars on his heart and soul,
He raises his left hand up and flips the world the bird.
He is free.

He pulls up to his home,
Kicks down the kick stand, dismounts, and lovingly caresses her.
There are no ghastly consequences tonight for his recklessness.
“Thanks for getting me home alive, babe,” he says to his beauty.
His temperament is cooled by her.
He lies down on his bed and passes out.

~Raul Felix

Read: In A Park On The Shores Of Lake Michigan
Read: Shards Of Broken Glass Scattered On The Kitchen Floor
Read: Another Night Wasted Getting Wasted

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How Much More Do I Need To Bleed?

They say that it’s easy to write,
That all you have to do is bleed on the page.
After feeling the blade of that knife so many times,
One begins to wonder…

How much more do I need to bleed?
Until my fucking soul can be at ease?
Until all those fucking thoughts in my mind are laid to rest?
Until I can at last be fucking content?

Each time cutting yourself,
Reliving memories, events, conversations,
Long since forgotten by others.
Picking apart, dissecting, and analyzing,
In search of that moment of raw humanity.

Eventually the blood stops flowing,
The cut scabs over.
Yet, the soul grows restless,
Needing to expose more of itself to the world.

The bleeding becomes addicting,
The emotional pain becomes a validation of your worthiness as an
Artist.
A benchmark which you judge yourself by,
To see if you truly pushed yourself.

The words are bouncing around in your head,
But it needs your blood to come to fruition.
You cut yourself open once again,
Bleeding out slowly.
As you are reminded of how painful it is,
You begin to wonder…
How much more do I need to bleed?

~Raul Felix

Read: What It Is To Write
Read: She Was Traveling Through My Country
Read: Why Should I Write About Her

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She May Have Given Up On You

You lie on your bed with your face buried into the pillow.
Churning over the events that led to the demise of your latest tryst.
Another one lost, another flake, another you thought would be different.
Another girl masquerading as a woman.

You don’t feel attractive, you don’t feel worthwhile, you don’t feel missed or longed for.
You work up the energy to look out the window of your downtown apartment.
You see a scrawny, low-life holding hands with a fine ass bitch.
“Why do I even bother trying to be a good man?” You wonder.

You walk to the fridge and take a peek inside.
Empty of food with a few beers left over from a previous night of boozing.
You consider drinking them all then heading out to the bar.
You close the door without a drink in hand.

You walk to your laptop and put on some motivational music.
You change into your workout clothes.
“Fuck her,” You say out loud. “Fuck her!”
She may have given up on you, but you won’t give up on yourself.
You tie the laces of your sneakers and head out the door.

~Raul Felix

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Why Do You Struggle?

There are those days when you wonder,
Why the fuck are you even going through the struggle?
You’re making no progress,
Wheels spinning,
Failure after failure,
False start after false start.
Perhaps, it’d be better to call it quits
Settle for mediocrity.

Mediocrity isn’t that bad,
You can have a nice quiet life,
Full of normal experiences and things,
The typical shit.
Be another man who didn’t really matter.

It’s disgusting to think of your fate in that manner isn’t it?
That’s why you struggle.
Because its better to burn attempting greatness,
Giving it your heart and soul,
Than it is never have done much at all,
And wonder, “What if?”

~Raul Felix

Read more of my work at Thought Catalog
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She Was Traveling Through My Country

1SheWasTravelingThroughMyCountry

She was traveling through my country.
Olive skin, long silky hair, deep brown eyes,
full lips, quirky smile, physique of a Disney princess.
We walked down Hollywood Boulevard,
sharing bits and pieces of ourselves,
she was interested in my experiences, my family,
my ideas, my writing, and my goals.
In me.

She was traveling through my country.
She carried herself with dignity, but without pretension.
sweet with a biting wit,
She gave me half her dinner and bought me a beer.
Every time she spoke, my heart melted.

She was traveling through my country.
She had a man back home whom she respected.
Though she couldn’t be mine that night,
she gave me something more valuable:
Hope.
That the type of woman I desire does exist,
That I am able to get her attention and interest,
That all the work I’ve put into myself is paying off.
She was traveling through my country.

~Raul Felix