Ulises Vargas’ Collection.

An Ape’s Lifecycle.   Ulises Vargas December 26, 2025.  Age. Potent and unavoidable.  With every second, energy is used.  And the body ages.  My blood now is not the same  as my blood as a baby.  So vital once,  when the hourglass had just flipped.  I had a whole life ahead of me,  and all the time in the world to figure it out.  So days passed. I filled the days with fleeting pursuits.  I studied what I wanted, and worked for bosses.  I laid in bed and thought of nothing while doing nothing.  I talked to some people about nothing.  I made a career of some vague passion,  pursuing comfort and wealth.  I ran and I walked and I crawled in my wheel.   I let the time go by, while I did nothing.  I can hardly believe it: that I once stressed  over inconsequential people whom I don’t remember now; playthings and toys, I forget now.  None of that is in front of me  where I am now....

. Incendiary Soulmates. Ulises Vargas  December 23, 2025.  Times change,  and time flies.  I couldn’t change,  only tell lies.  Fires tied us  by the throats. Meanwhile,  I grew worse.  We had to breakup.  Then, fire burns out—mostly. You bore the burden, being my wife. I may never apologize,  and always stop you  from ever moving on.  I hope you’ll remember me  like I remember you.  So I’ll seek evidence  by retraumatizing you.  So long as you still mean something to me,  then I better still mean something to you.  I can’t be the only one suffering; You will join me, too. I’m dying in a world without you.  I have, I am, and I will. Join me, sweetheart.  You’re a cruel bitch now.  Die here with me, sweetheart,  because its either our fires both burn all out  or we burn bright together.  But living as embers  won’t ...

{shadowy, sunny}  Ulises Vargas  December 11, 2025.  Patterns, everywhere.  Every choice is another occurrence in the pattern of one day; one week; one year;  one hour.  Patterns make you rhyme,  and patterns make you reason.  Patterns, everywhere, arise,  from one occurrence into the next.  Patterns follow you,  like sunlight follows the sun.  Patterns avoid you,  like the shadow avoids the sun.  Patterns push you,  like—usually—the smell of sewage.  Patterns pull you,  like—usually—the scent of sex.  Patterns define you,  algorithmically— a series of cause and effect;  a series of stimulus and response.  Patterns are you,  wholeheartedly— a conditioned intelligence; a consolidated sentience,  produced as a sum of experience,  which itself is not aware  of the billions of neurons,  connected in trillions of patterns, ...