The Atomic Model.

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The Atomic Model. 

Ulises Vargas 

November 27, 2023. 


Can you hear it?

The bells, chiming like the waves on a free and sunny coast.

Grass, trees, the winds—singing so soothingly,

like the rocking lull of mother

or the elegant background music, but not static, 

like they must play at happy nurseries. 


Come, feel this fur. 

Isn’t it so nice—how it runs through the grooves,

the grooves of your fingerprints. 

Fingertips titillating and smiling. 


And, come, feel this cloth. 

It’s smooth; it’s artisanally woven. 

The strings, think about them. Really think. 

Distinguish each one of them, and appreciate the effort;

the craftsmanship of this cloth. 


I can’t believe it, that I’m alive 

and all these little things have even littler things within.

So what does that mean about me? 


The monologue in my head narrates my life, 

and its waves can be calm or hectic. 

What are those waves made of? 

Strings like neurons; 

brain like cloth; 

mind like sensation.


Isn’t there so much to appreciate in this world?

It’s too much to appreciate it all in one lifetime. 

So I try to spend my little life in complete appreciation

of the things made of little things 

and the concert of it all in symphony 

to synthesize the waves, the strings, the cloth, and I. 


 


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No Good For Me.

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                                                                     No Good For Me.   Ulises Vargas January 25, 2025. You’re no good for me.  I hooded my eyes, blind to the dark flood of negativity.  Your love was my burden to bear.  I never meant to hurt you, not at all.  But I couldn’t stand the abuse and stand tall.  Selfishly, you dragged me down with you.  While I tried my best to fix you.  Now, I’m deleting all the pics of us.  Memories torture me beyond dusk. All we had was lust.  A betrayal to what could’ve been.  I thought you were my life and I was yours,  But it was just the sex.  Now I’m free, and I don’t know how to be.  Or who I am or who I used to be.  You defined me, rewrote my own story.  So don’t contact me, rath...
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Frosted Cocaine.

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                                                                    Frosted Cocaine. Ulises Vargas January 2, 2024.  Cocaine, take away the pain.  Feel that icy blizzard like hard rain.  Pick me up from sadness and take me away.  I have nothing to gain but happiness,  Everything to lose and descend into madness.  But today, take the pain away.  Numb my face like a glass mask.  Use your power to cover and glaze the past.  Give me life, for every dollar I spend.  Give me life, for every wound you mend.  Save me from insanity,  And bring me to serenity.  Finding peace, piece by piece.
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One hundred selves.

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One hundred selves.  Ulises Vargas  November 29, 2025.  Liars. All of us are liars.  Don’t try to lie and say that you’re not a liar, either.  Let me ask you: does everyone in your life know the same stories as each other? Do they all know the same person, or have you shaped their perspective of you?  Does your mother know the travesties you’ve committed?  Does your lover know your daydreams and fantasies?  Do your colleagues know how you party?  No–no to all of those questions.  Yet, each one of them supposedly knows you.  Each one of them is wrong,  because you lie to each one of them.  They all think that they have you solved; they all think that they know the real you.  To one hundred people,  there are one hundred versions of yourself.  Are any of them real? Is it really the same person who makes those one hundred selves,  or is each self a whole different person?  Regardless, how, then, can o...
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