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Perhaps it is only now
I am discovering
the depths of my brokenness
go beyond border, barrier,
core, and atmosphere…
that I am out there, scattered
to make a universe
of dust and fire, shattered debris
stretched light-years across darkness
burning glimpses through the distance,
pacing heavy circles ‘round myself
to find a center so far from the heartland.

But I can bring
only so much order
to my chaos, reason
so well with madmen,
my method is a shadow
of the sweet wisdom torn
to pieces by too much of one’s own company.
I am separated to fill void with void,
a noise-induced silence, song of songs,
I am attempting to cancel myself out
of all in one that will never again be All And One,
I will atrophy every part until my stars are numb
and the sense comes that I was Never
and None.
My mind is a web made of
mirrors that reflect the mysteries
of what is now history, that
distort the present and come to
blind me with flashes of
all the could-be’s, would-be’s
and all the could-have-been’s
I am a damsel living
in a world that is not
quite fit for me, but I’m
afraid there is no choice
but to Let It Be, and
though perfection is
unattainable, happiness
might not be so far
I am a recovering perfectionist
and I am trying to learn the
beauty of a land where not
everything aligns, where one
man’s flaw is another’s design
I passed the new york in your eyes notriously
before ever really speaking the language that they shrieked
the rigourus dimensions
the pale fingers speak

send your signals to me
fly seas
dance in breeze
remember the ****** when in her blackened tongue she speaks
fragility giving birth to her gritty skeletons
came to me one night and begged me to breathe
poetically told me it was me the universe seeks
not who they said I was
but to shed the hiding technique
the ill and sly words in my tongue raging to leak
the ordained freak and the memories
laying in the back of my mind somewhere,
those real antiques
to my side I kick those ordinary bullies
and now Im watching them burn in the lowest average of these cities
I let my hair grow
wear bright colors
and dance the dance of the gipsies
I take life back further than the fifties
then further then the thirties
I run to the cemetary and mingle with that one zombie
the one who I let go of
and let him explain to me the details of my hidden worries
he tells me to let them go
I shoot the fatigued oldness in the heart with the spine of my arrow
I make loves to all my shadows
I hallow in my very mellow
state of mind
my intrinsic phsyco
my cronic rainbow
I dont need your superfiality
because as human I have won the mental lotto
My head is heavy
And my heart is weathered
Already strained by the vein

My feet are on the ground
But I remember every word
Cause I don't wanna live this way

I know it's not alright
Letting it **** me slowly
But I'll live again

I'll find my way back to me
That smile will come around

Cold mask here again
Never showing gratitude
Stranger inside of me

I held every lie in my hand
Never admitting right or wrong
Cause I don't wanna live this way
Celebrate your corporate-create version
of this holiday as you have your break from work -
you deserve a day off from your grind -
but don't
talk about how great America once was.


Don't talk about how this "represents"
"for everyone"

It doesn't.

and blue
for the blood of my people
the skin of our invaders
and Creator weeping while watching
the sky so vast above us.

and blue
to distract you from the events...
the genocide,
the slavery
that led you to the freedom you have today;
patriotism like a blindfold over your not-so-kind eyes.

Remember those in mourning
over the many great losses Native tribes
& nations
have experienced
in the name of freedom.

This so-called once great nation
was built
on the graves of my people,
the backs of another
and still we cannot mourn without words -
slurs -
like redskin and squaw and ***** and savage
the list goes on
being thrown our way.

For choosing not to participate
or celebrate
the genocide of our own
the enslavement of others
the harassment and murders and hate
of people of color
all in the name
of stealing this land,
we are deprived of our right
to grieve in peace.

So what is freedom
if not given to all?
Think about that instead of the beer
in your back yard;
think about that while we smudge
while we honor our veterans.

Just let us mourn.
This is a rough second draft! On the inclusion of slurs, there are many worse, but these are the most common that I see/am called.
 Apr 2019 Zelia Valdez
Hope is a ‘thing’
That flies without wings!
She speeds us along,
Among doldrums and doubts,
Gives us a longing
That can endure a few bouts.

She’s summoned -ephemerally-
In times of distress
Could make one feel
As though she’s never left.

But then, again,
Being just and fair,
It seems there are times,
When she CAN’T be found-

Do her feathers tire?
Or the engines run dry?
Might I win back her comforts
By again getting high?

Can I summon her, like Alexa,
To just COME BACK?!
Or? Why does she leave; at times,
Without leaving a track?

Can I capture her warmth
In an indestructible ‘black box’?
Found after disaster-
To explain HOW she was lost?

She must fly solo,
Adjusting to the winds-
She encapsulates ‘aspiring’
With her future visions...

Hope IS a thing...
Truest self
 Apr 2019 Zelia Valdez
 Apr 2019 Zelia Valdez
i am ignited,
flames of fear lapping at my feet.
i try to cry out, to ask for help
but ash fills my mouth.
much like my regard for myself.
mind made of matches, i am my own arsonist.
 Apr 2019 Zelia Valdez
i've had a high pain tolerance ever since i was a little girl
my mom likes to tell this story:
i was about 3 years old
sitting in my carseat
sticking my fingers out the window
to feel the fresh air
my dad
oblivious as ever
closes the rear window on my tiny baby fingers
i didn't cry a single tear
not when it happened
not when i was raced to the emergency room
not when the doctor removed my fingernail

i've had a high pain tolerance ever since i was a little girl
i've had a high
pain tolerance ever since i was a little girl


i can drizzle
i can pour
i can calm
i can storm
i can rattle
i can shatter
i can tie
i can split
i can echo
i can scream
i can claim
i can plea
i can want
i can need

i can't explain
Life took away her wings
A vital and precious piece of her
She laid there, defenceless and vulnerable
She had encountered life at its worst

What is a butterfly without her wings
No appearance to hide behind
She had to live with what was left of her
Life sadly had not been kind

She questioned who she was
With her new inability to fly
Her newfound lack of freedom
Awaited a fate she could not fight

Without her wings, she began to crawl
Reverting back to a childlike state
For an end gives rise to a new beginning
Her positivity was something innate

Her downfalls made her climb higher
Pain didn't bother her anymore
Her fear to fall had diminished
She was stronger than before

Her fighting spirit emerged out of her
Giving form to new wings
Her tears nurtured and shaped them
She began her new chance at living
I Hit A Wall

6 am, and my dad drags me across the gravel driveway to wake me up.
Blood mixed with lasts night’s makeup.
I hit a wall.

My siblings and I think he killed those people in our town.
A town small enough for it to be weird that the killer was never caught.
I hit a wall.

Hidden guns in the walls,
Ropes strung up all over the garage,
And a diagnosed sociopath.
I hit a wall.

Sister has Stockholm Syndrome.
After what he did to her,
She still brings her kids to his house.
I hit a wall.

I’m bipolar
And running out of things I can blame it on.
Maybe it was the
Gun plastered to my face.
Or the **** pictures he threatened to take.
I hit a wall.

I hit a wall

I hit a wall

This time,
It breaks.
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