Let them put me in my dry grave
with whispers of how much I meant,
and how little to show for it.

Give him red roses like my tattoo -
the same one my father had warned
would last forever.

Put bold ink in my obituary -
and let my mistaken mother
misspell my degree.

They can finally paint my long nails pink
and cover me in
compliments of untimely character.

Or my great grandmother Elizabeths golden rusted rosary's.
My papa will finally have his Rose and Rosalia in one place.

I’ll finally talk to god
and tell him my name was meaningless
I don’t need a name to know the hells I came from.

But they sent me to heaven
only for what I stood for
only after I could
no longer stand it.

Sometimes,
the knives in our backs
are the only things
keeping us upright;
Who'd have thought
betrayal could be our
greatest asset?
How ironic.

Bottles of moonbeams
jars full of sunshine
stored away on a basement shelf
gathering dust and spiderwebs
carefully  collected then forgotten,
the distilled essence of days long passed
when love was a man
who promised summer breezes
and delivered winter winds.

I had become what most yearn for.
Anyone can want what they truly do not understand .

You never know you like something until you finally get a taste for what it truly is .

My plate is full these days .
Every line has a direction and it becomes more mechanical by the second.

People laugh at me less .
Some envy .

Fools often hate what they themselves could never do.

They think what I forged in fire somehow was handed from the Heavens.

The tattered edges now refined .
It took a toxic environment and a lust for its release.

I didn't cheat my self indulgence .
But I **** sure scammed myself about happiness.

I worked for this plain and simple.


I stayed around till I had proven a fluke is one thing I wasn't.

If your waiting for a encore .
You have to let me finish first .

I’m barely keeping my head above water

Other people
Made it look so easy
To backstroke through their days
With nothing to worry about
Except pruny fingertips
And what swimsuit to wear

It looked easy

Only after I jumped in
Did I realize that
I wasn’t born to swim
I wasn’t born with the ability to float
I wasn’t born with the talent to tread

Maybe I’m just dense

With a brain full of blanks
And a stomach full of stones
I’m guaranteed lungs full of liquid
To drag me down
To make every moment a living hell

I was born to sink

I often think of quitting
Letting the ocean consume me
Swallow me whole
As the waves seem to be
The only things
That ever wanted me

I’m barely keeping my head below water.