“Oscar, de dónde vienes?!”
As I hear the rich ****** attempt my native tongue
My tongue goes native with quietness
A long stare, I don’t dare to say a word
I don’t care to even dare to say a word
I’ve gone through this before
I can write you a history book on the history
of me being discriminated
I can show you my profile on being profiled by you
Any season is a good season to give you a reason to question my allegiance to this flag
In Trumps presidency, it’s ok to ask this
It’s ok to ask if “I’m a illegal” because I don’t look like you people
I’m part of the 52 percent that get asked this because of my accent
But I will prevent you from hurting the minds of the innocent
You call yourself American but I’m from 2 of the 3 America’s with full knowledge of all Americas
My rice has more culture than your entire structure and whitewashed culture
Your ignorance doesn’t translate these rolling Rs that your daughters love
“Oscar, de dónde vienes?!”
As I hear the rich ****** attempt my native tongue
My stubborn tongue refuses to give in to your oppression
But for a second I catch my reflection and see my parents
I smile, “I proudly come from Ecuadorian parents”
And I walk away leaving the ****** red and embarrassed

Here’s to the dark clouds forming
And the waves crashing
To the sirens calling
And the fearful losing hope
Here’s to the blood lose
And to the salty tears
To the mountains roaring
And to the lonely graves
Here’s to the pill poppers
And to the Henny drinkers
Let’s not forget the loveless
And to the broken temples
Here’s to my dreams in hell
And to my fears in heaven
Here’s to me
For I am lost
And will never be found

The sight of her excites me.
Like a boy who woke up on Christmas,
I open my present to see a beautiful flower.
The smell, ****** and sensual, brings me to life .
I lay down to taste the gorgeous flower,
I touch the leaves with my finger which makes her tremble.
Devouring it like it's the last thing I eat.
Devouring it with pleasure and joy.
Soaking in her juices, her hands grabbing my head
With pure pleasure.
The flower blooms and she cries out.
A sound of a beautiful siren, wrecking ships.
I don't stop though, still hungry for more,
But she can't handle it, smiles, and pushes me away.
I stand tall, wanting more

Haunted by the past,
I sit here asking you;
"Do you love me anymore?"
"Yes" she says.
Silence comes after.
I can tell that;
Love can't bare the site of me.
Love can't forgive the betrayal.
Love won't repair what was damaged.
"Yes I love you" she repeats,
Silence comes after.
With eyes filled with doubt.
"But love isn't enough."