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Lumin Guerrero Dec 2024
Humans
Curious things we are
Always want to get what wasn't met for us
Design our own destinies
Play God

Completely blind to consequences
And the demons on the other side of the fine line
And the ****** products of
Ignorance                          
and
                      Power
Inspired by Gravity Falls
Lumin Guerrero Dec 2024
Bodega cats
R&B
Make-up

Names of endearment
Cheek kisses
Intimate touches

Flinching
Death threats
Scars

Love
Hate
Hurt
She hurt me so much and yet she still has the nerve to call me her "love" and "baby" and kiss me
And my heart still has the nerve to miss her
Lumin Guerrero Dec 2024
I am heavy
with hurt.
Both mines, and yours

And the hurt of
My mother,
a woman who deserves commited love.
And my father,
a boy who shouldn't have starved.
And my grandmothers,
girls that grew up too fast and too far away from home.

And the for all the children of the world,
all of us whose ability to love others and ourselves in a silly, gentle, erratic, genuine, inperfect, beautiful way was lost with boxed up toys and discarded sugary cereal boxes.

And for the world,
a once beautiful place that has been forced to endure careless brutality and abuse that is now scarred and broken and yet is still fighting for itself.

Like all the children of the world
Like my grandmothers
Like my father
Like my mother
Like you
Like me.

It's a heavy load to carry,
But I'm not planning to give in any time soon.
I THOUGHT I LOST THS POEM BUT THEN I  FIND IT IN MY DRAFTS! YIPPEE!!!
Lumin Guerrero Dec 2024
when I die
I will decompose
and be made
into something alive

I am living
made out of
decomposed bits
of dead things.

is anything ever really dead?
is anything ever really alive?

I don't know.

but my heart beats
and the earth breathes
just the same.
silly thoughts
Lumin Guerrero Dec 2024
Words used in poems
Are simply common language
Shaped into art
Lumin Guerrero Dec 2024
Her
Her
Her
Her

You want to see her in a pretty dress
That restricts the ribs, the lungs
Like my makeshift chest binder from years back

Her in a sparkly tiara
That weighs down the head
And makes me look
down
         down

Down at her shoes
High-heeled and floral
In which I stumble

In her father-daughter dance
Where he smiles bright
At his brilliant, beautiful-

Her blowing out the candles
Wishing for
...

I've only ever wished to rid of her,
And now here I am hidden behind these candles
In this dance,
Shoes,
Tiara,
Dress,
Body,

Her.
Wishes don't come true
Lumin Guerrero Dec 2024
I would cry over spilled milk
But not spilled blood.

Because, the spilled milk is actively disrupting my linear and strictly constructed plan to make cereal and therefore also everything that comes after it, and I would have wasted milk and so prevented a future me from the cereal breakfast pleasure.

But, if the blood is my own, I can usually disconnect myself from the injury and just not notice, ignore, or press a paper against it to prevent bloodying everything and go on with my day with but a slight sensation in my finger. If its more dire, I'd disconnect just the same, but be slightly more irritated as it would now disrupt routine but still probably be fine. If not my own, then I'd really struggle to care, as I do not have much of the ability to transfer another's pain to myself via the superpower everyone seems to have called "empathy".

Me crying for spilled milk and not blood
does not make me alien.
It just makes me some sort of sick ******.

Huh.
I think I rather just be an alien.
At least aliens get to have cool intergalactic space travel
wait- I hate traveling
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