About Neschi Torres
About Neschi Torres

The Boogeyman

Neschi Torres

You cracked me open

You see right through me

You left me floating, thinking of what would be

I used to fell in and out of love,

I played, I smoked, I fooled, I hid, I danced, I ran

This time its different -

But You know!

There is a bogeyman

under my bed

My beloved manic,

eating monkey bread,

Sometimes he eats out of my hand

Sometimes he plays dead

But I leave the door open for him,

I always leave the door ajar,

When he leaves he takes the guitar, blows a kiss, au revoir my northern star

We don’t have much time, He might be back soon,

So feed me your honey with the tea spoon,

Quick, quick, choke on the words you want to say…

And I hear you whisper:

You know I fear my higher self,

because it speaks demandingly

I wish time never mattered in a life of vanity,

I live each day passing by so passively,

I ignored the present and lived nostalgically,


I also fear my heart showing its full capacity,

I wish rationality would lose the battle in my split personality

So melodramatically, but what can I say…

Love’s been tragically, outstandingly, erratically pushing my morality.

Empty loss is how I feel, the cup hath turned over

Highest highs and lowest lows,

my favorite roller coaster

Sweat on the glass, the coaster soaked in Coca Cola, another night I call the glovo,

a whiff, a breath, a breeze, of you in my bed,

still a sniff on the pillow of my past lover,

but didn’t we deserve each other?

Take your little time cuz the night will go long

Backwards, Back up, find the right position

Last night, swept up by a storm,

Woke up and still cannot feel the calm at all

Nice and easy, no haul and pull

Gemini talking,

but I see Sagittarius; half man, half bull

Let’s swim another round,

or is it: “nah, am full” ?

I’d pasteurize some more of ya good milk,

but don’t cry when I spill it,

so I’d put on a robe, silk, and have a sip of it

You, with whom I’d do it fast or slow,

and if you don't know, now you know

I'll give you that rope a dope,

Soak the bed, we change sheets,

Lanes and clothes, fleets, planes, trains,

Horses, clouds and mainly get insane in the membrane,

from licking some marmalade,

Making my strawberry jam,

And I was thinking for this weekend: how about some razor clam?

So come take the treat twice, three times the tongue,

Equals some good six, say it like an Australian,

I’m so statuesque, but you’re not a Pygmalion,

I only roll deep if the feeling is the same within

Your head or your heart it's all the same,

And I ain't gonna stop until you earned another nickname

So this hip doctor's hopping through hoops and hoop earrings,

Finding em in tight winding corners of life, dodging coroners, mourners and strife,

Talking to foreigners talking to myself talking to foreingers, revealing stealth,

Raising the self, seeking help, and drawing breath with both hands,

Do you plan to be the Man or Männer of the manor, with a span or spanner?

I want kisses on lips, heart flips, mind tricks, and nip tips,

Small sips on tobacco drifts, sensi anansi chances dancing with some plantain,

Sweet thoughts tasted, warm skin friction, wet slip or dry heat, I'll go back to the fountain

Mind clear a vision, a simple thought, a mission, to do right but still take flight and be above them all

And even though I’m a little shorter, today I feel at least twice as tall.

But Good mornin’ darlin’

You’ve seen me falling,

in and outta love

Is it because I’m cold and heartless?

Or is it cuz I went through nights of darkness,

But let me tell you…

there’s nothing like when we lock eyes,

but do you look twice before crossing my mind?

A hunger for the light to light

cuz out of sight means out of mind

rewind, sealed, signed delivered

wizards watering the withered whispers

painting pictures of shivers, with words,

word for word until my vision is blurred

i notice that you noticed it, even if you won’t admit

time works perpetually towards the abyss

innumerable futures for hypocrites

In one of them you’re just a friend, in another one you battle the wits

Truth holds the witness of the past

the adviser to the present that might last

the future’s counselor, so witty masked,

“Is history the mother of truth or it truth the rival of time”, you might ask?

You my Boogeyman should save the best for last.