Wasn't eating properly,
  lost a little weight. . .
Old pictures,
  smiles on the faces. . .
***** Laundry,
  perfume on the nose. . .
Clean Sheets,
  your arm on my waist. . .
your touch+ theirs,
for in this love
   we are not 2 but 3.

If you life up my sleeve,
  you will see one scar. . .
If you peer in my heart,
  you will see fragments of what is left. . .
They called it "attempted suicide"
  but I am a void, ****** into nothingness
I simply want to sleep. . . for us to meet again. . .
I want to be a̶ ̶d̶e̶a̶d̶ ̶p̶o̶e̶t̶. . .

Laying next to you at night. .
while he is on my mind. . .
Small chills across my spine,
   pull away from your embrace. . .
    as I kiss him from afar. . .  I wish I was dead. . . to find him again. . .

Like the trains,
  that always run late.
      I was late to love,
      I was late to happiness,
      But I was early to the desolate sea of loneliness that awaits us,
        as the train gets lost in the foggy gray hills of death,
             we all reach. . . you were early to that stop.
                   I am still late waiting for the station, for us to meet.

Your voice, a haunting melody, a mournful plea.
Your touch, poison to my heart,
Chained to your embrace, as this darkness creeps and takes a toll.
We are broken mirrors, reflecting pain,
these shattered fragments, that love forgo's,
two souls conjoined in this venomous vine.
awaiting the afterlife where our souls can hopefully align.

Shes but 16
   trying to provide for her baby ,
                          she walks the nights,
                               full of ominous eyes,
                                   past smoke filled rooms,
                                            he takes her in his arms,
                                                What began in honesty,
                                                    ends in it too,
                                                                     .  . .dollars exchanged. . .

"What will my baby think?"


** Poem inspired by the poor young girls trapped due to economic circumstances I met and talked to during my trip to Tijuana

We live in endless dread,
    we are born to love. .
Under a burden of societal views,
and fear of solitude.
   Told,
we are incomplete alone.

Flawed,
   burdened,
      built to sadly love.

-Alone-

Clinging to a rosary,
    I am but a devout fool.
idolizing a false pretense,
    for alone in the world. . .
I cling to false prophets in hopes,
   of knowing a feeling like the one between you and me.

Alone in this world,
I am a fool,
devout,
in love,
alone. . . .

Alone

▼
I am tired of writing to my only fan; my imagination.
Tired of writing, tired of speaking
Tired of shouting, Tired of crying,
Alone. . .
   no one is reading. . .
            no one hears my pleas. . .
                     - A̶l̶o̶n̶e̶

Why am I alone?
Pondering and lingering,
consumed in irregular thought.
Why are my tears not heard?
The soul it weeps not seen?
This pain, streamed from my eyes, leaves its sour taste.
Why am I alone?
Happiness surrounds me, and pain imprisons me.
Free me from this cage,
      it chokes me,  
          it's shadow paints me,
                  free me from this loneliness.
-A̶l̶o̶n̶e̶

Loving you is my curse,
    and the gift from the cosmos,
      that weave your face, your being, your heat, amongst the stars.

I was born pure, white , unstained.
Today I am full of resentment , a well of hatred
bitter poison stuck on revenge, stuck on hate, stuck on anger
for I lost you, and I am a̶n̶g̶r̶y̶

At the feet
   Beg.
Oran and cry
Be afraid.

Grab on
  don't let go
take flight
  into the light
love unconditionally

Weep. .
  find mercy. .
and kiss. . .
his feet. . .

forgive us. .
forgive me. .
forgive them. .

Take my life
  feel the heat
as it radiates and leaves. . .
let my heart become theirs.
  Atone once more for their sins. .
--take me to the promise land--

it's so easy to love someone,
when that person does not love you,
   He will mock you,
        He will use you,
            He will leave you disgusted,
              & broken too.
                But, its so easy to love him.

It's so hard to love someone,
  when that person loves you.
    He will cherish you,
        He will support you,
          He will leave you happy,
            & ecstatic too.
               But, yet its so hard to love him.

-ʍąʂօçհìʂէ

He said facing me
  " I love you because you never lie"
but my back
  tells the story
    of many lies
      & many nights
          looking for love
             living a lie
                 despite it all.

Touch that sends shivers down my spine,
Breath as ardent as the brightest flame,
Tears that stream my very soul.
Black lined exuberant eyes shrouded in mystery,
Peer through bone, blood and flesh.
My heart cannot take your pleasure and pain
Every tick and every tock is an endless tunnel of unfathomable love.

Fingers bleed, as teeth grit.
Skin tears, and two hands ***** my neck.
Bearded angels scream YASSSSS
The music pumps, the crowd goes wild.
Yet no one notices my insignificance.
I gasp for air; I want to scream but sound is lost.
Life leaves, a body lays against a decrepit bathroom wall.

You killed me, while bearded angels danced the night away.
If only I could live once more,
and experience your fervency once more.

"Because you are getting fat"
I don't believe in you, but I adore you.
I used to be happy, I used to be confident.
But then I met you. I know that I choose and live this life.
But I am weak around you, so I implore you,
Be kind, Be genuine, Be nice. .
For I lose my strength, poor me, I am a fool.
A lost stupid fool.

At sixteen,
  I knew the beauty of life,
      poor, hungry, but full of affection and tenderness,
I never suffered nor cried; until I met you.
you taught me love,
     pain, sadness, tears,
         when you left
             I learned of longing. . .
take me back to sixteen, b̶e̶f̶o̶r̶e̶ ̶I̶ ̶f̶o̶u̶n̶d̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶. . .

Don't ask me not to care too much,
     you will become my world,
          even when our cosmos collide
     even when sedation and lies of happiness no longer fix the break
   I will still love you, why? Because at one point we were best friends.

The world is cold with you,
for the flowers that bloomed,
  filled with the hum of the bee,
turn , dreary and cool.

The city is cool with you,
church bells no longer ring,
   our future is bleak,
as the sky comes down to drown the trees.
life is obscure, dark, dim.

Life is cold with you,
  I lose my spark,
     my creativity, my being,
          I lose me.
What little beauty I defended,
is cut , hidden, gone.

The sun escapes my orbit,
   my skies grow darker,
      I toss and I turn,
          pleading for a light; long gone.
begging to return to me; me before you.

We are born into this world to love,
Born to find it, lose it again and again,
in a reoccurring tune, like the phoenix each love must start anew.
So why am I b̶r̶o̶k̶e̶n̶? As I continue to ponder and long for you?

I hit rock bottom again,
  living in my own fiery hell inferno.
Before I coped with the pain,
  or maybe now I float between reality and fantasy,  
     just enough to feel this pain , burning.
My suffering , love lost was external,
    so why is it internal?
I hit rock bottom again,
but this time I am not coping,
    I am b̶u̶r̶n̶i̶n̶g̶.

The open window, a temptation for wings.
Sweet angel seduced by the purest nectar of the stars,
Your arms two cocoons of wings,
The gravel, the weeds, the cricket that sings all mark the path,
"Flee, Flee, Don't ever look back"
Yet your pour the smooth liquor in your glass,
one,two,three,five,ten it never ends. . .
The smell of cigars and upholstered leather, cling to the horror of the solitude as you take your last breath. .
All you are remembered for is "he was just a drunk"

Caged bird weeps, in the shade of the saguaro,
Caged bird that sings a song of lamentation, for love betrayed.
My heart is filled, by the fervour in its pain.
He wishes upon a star, that is already wished on.

So I raise my glass, to stars and heavens above.
Pious fool, that expresses his desire,
to make his love mine,
Please let our souls become intertwined, so I can let go of this caged bird and its sad little song.

Keep the door closed
    for the love to erupt
Keep the light off
    for the trigger to spark
Look away from me
    for my pride not to break
Make me yours
    Don't talk, Don't be rough, for it reminds me of him

  -- Why do I not allow myself to love?--

Colorless time,
blank canvas without you,
only full of memory,
memory that invents you,
memory that recreates you,
in each stroke of longing.

Strokes of gray,
amongst the hills of the dying,
decrepit, silent, agony filled hills,
late train, filled with certainty,
to find you once more in the promise land.

Strokes of red,
longing for your voice,
and your ardent touch,
rosy red lips, amongst my skin.

Strokes of Black,
slow death, undeserved death
daggers on the back, from the treatment that was your "saving"
absent from your being.

Stroke of Purple,
stars, vapor clouds, constellations painted of your embrace
amongst pill induced dreams, false reality
false hope and false love,
but true longing which craves for your love again.

I look in the mirror,
10 years passed in a breeze,
older, fatter, a wrinkle begins to form.
Youth begins to evade me,
Yet I do not feel sad nor glad,
I am simply living, okay, content with myself.
Is it not odd? Is it not strange? That I no longer care.

I dreamed
   of changing the world
        I was wise.
           I wanted to change.
              To grow.
                 To Educate.
But. . .
then I found love. . .

-goodbye dreams-

We are told that we are citizens of a nation,
  a nation so great and prideful,
     we are a gallant knight of freedom.
        Yet where is the freedom in choosing between two rapists.
               - Those are our choices America the beautiful-

CHOICES.

Another coffee, for the grind.
We are but cogs, empty minded.
Bags of rotting flesh, empty hearted.
Trapped in routine, stuck in conformity,
our light dims, no fanfare, no applause,
just an echo of life's callous law.

***** old bench,
waiting for the 7:30 bus.
  reminiscing of running late and endless paranoia
    and the warm hand that said "don't worry"


Only god knows,
    why now I "worry"
-Cold hands.

The hardest thing,
  is opening your heart again,
     & seeing everything that is wrong with loving.
If I call; its because I miss your voice.
   If I send a text; its because I care
      If I want to be close; don't push me away. . .
for it makes me think I am not good enough.
     I feel stupid when I cry,
           I feel alone, in this cold world.

Solitude becomes a choir,
  An illuminating echo that turns into a horrid cacophony.
        Harsh reminder of a dreamer who could not dream,
                    A painter who could not paint . . .  
                          A singer who could not sing . . .
                                Come and calm this song, Come and save me,
                                     From this anxiety, that steals the value of my life.  
______________
Fireworks explode, they color your eyes.
     Do not sing, do not paint, do not dream, simply write.

Artistry cannot erase desire.
   But it can fuel your fire and desire.

Let each stroke, give you sensations.
   Of my hand on yours, a state of warmth and delight.

Nonetheless when you suffer,
      And beg for “HELP!” know.
                I am never.
                         -🄵🄰🅁

Keep me in the moment;
   rock me in your lullaby.
Roll. . . Roll. . . Roll. . .
Keep me focused;
  as I dance with bodacious stars.
Lick. . . Lick. . . Lick. . .
Fly past mars;
  where the word demure does not exist.
Light. . . Light. . . Light. . .
Cosmic love;
   Please keep me in this moment.


-Cosmic

Close your eyes
   count to three,
it'll go away,
  it'll be okay,
four, five, six
   open your eyes
      you'll be fine
ten, eleven, twelve
when he died, I lost my sight
   I lost my purpose,
     twenty, thirty, fifty
I will never be okay. . .
       & that's okay. .  .

If I love him?
Why do I wan't to remove one more tie,
to the many that bind us,
Do I not already feel love, so why do I crave it?

I am a crazy dreamer,
Waited for a love which never came.
As I watched the kids cruising becoming part of the future.
Smiling in love, the thing I always craved.
Everyday my heart grew darker and sore.
I knew I was not born to love,
Never to know truelove.

So, call me crazy,
Tell me I don’t try and I am lazy!
I see no need to dress up or to make myself decadent and tasty.
For dreams are an illusion and I choose not to be hasty.
So, I am a crazy dreamer, no one was born to love me.
I was born to be as fluid as the sea, call me a *****, call me a ***.
For each stone your throw only made me grow!

I never knew tears, only pleasure.
The human touch and its burning flame which ignited fear.
I knew beauty and life, but I never knew love.
I was always happy, until I knew no one was born to love me.
Crazy dreamer, happy even no love in life, I am the crazy dreamer.

When did I detach myself from the current of reality,
eternally fused to the nothingness that awaits us?
To become a slave of dreams and machinations.

When did I become another heartbeat,
longing for fantasies of love,
only to find the anguish that comes from human desire.
Knowing that we are powerless to our fascinations.

How many days go by, as we long to be remembered?
For art, for name, for doing, for living
only to reach the same end of obscurity.

They call me a deconstructionist, a detester of life.
But are we not worthlessly tied to this current of life?
We are born with no concepts, no meaning, an echo of what is to come.
& that same echo escapes us in the end.

Fiery mysterious exchanges of passion and pings,
an undiluted heart,
ever wondering, wanting, yearning, for more.
Unrelenting words that arrive in seconds. . .

Ordinary texts to incite conversation,
with invitations to serve as reassurance,
a heart that dwindles but still cares,
words that arrive in minutes. . .

Mundane routine,
eyes that barley peek,
ears that barley perk,
words that barley flow in hours.

Uninteresting,
forgotten memories,
ever so distant, ever so close, but ever unwanted.
and words that lay unread. . .


-ᵤₙᵣₑₐd

callused, dry , rough
    ugly. . .
      They smelled of sweat and grease,
           blue stained ***** finger nails
              a beautiful reminder
of all you do for me. . .
       his hand are minder of a life,
                a home,
                    & warmth.

Ugly is me,
  a reminder of how heartless
     and appreciative I can be.
          for each scar, is a reminder of sacrifice and love,
               ever so undeserved.

-ₕₐₙdₛ

Tonight we dance our morbid dance,
through whips, bruises and chains,
plunge head first into dark temptations,
we navigate this tempestuous sea.
When sanity wanes, this chase leads to an end,
lost in this chained rhythm, of two lustful souls yearning for love.
But forever in pain.

When you lose everything,
    the saying goes "get back up and try again"
         but how do you get back up
            when every feeling, every word, of my past
                no longer exists in the physical world,
                     trying means being awake,
                        but I want to sleep,
                             for in dreams,
                                   I feel you,
                                   once more.

I want to text you,
    I love you. . .  
        only to delete it , rewrite it and delete it again.
              In an endless cycle of words I can not express.

Baby let me help redesign you,
you are a work of delipidated art,
Let me restore your shine,
      your luster, your being,
                  you. .  
                      for that is perfection. . .
                             or close to it. . .

Jealous filled eyes,
     walls that spoke,
         they took my career,
              made me rethink my life,
                      "was it worth it"
                        "am I worth it"
unanswered questions,
  piece by piece,
    the wolves of my own unrelating depredation
      left pieces of a foolish kind soul,
but a shattered heart
    can be taped
       over and over again
            so I say  " I am me"
                with pride.

d̶̮͎̐̔̏ë̸̢̢̤͎́ṕ̵̢͚̘̟̝̣͓̰̤̺͂̎͊͝ṛ̴̨̃̆̾ȩ̷͈̳̐̚d̷͉͍̯̃͋̔ͅa̶͛̌́̿̃͊̍­̢̻̥̻͎̲́̈́́ṭ̵̡̰̻͎̤̦̫̯̀̐̽̽͜į̸̱͉̖̱̯̹̹̱̓̒̂̐̔̂̿̎͋̚o̸̡͎̙̖̯̣̯̺̬͗̍͊̄̎̇n̶­̩̝̼͛̌

Obscene ugly bird,
Thunderous scream, what rare song
Un-cage and be free

*Being different is freedom