I am here in your eyes,
look at me, hear me, feel me,
better yet forget me
I am like you. . .
we are one in the same; one of many
we are nameless, due to our sameness
sparks, comets, eruptions, cosmic clouds fill the iris.
and yet we are all the same,
filled with darkness, filled with death,
filled with sadness
lost lovers, lost in the cosmic sea unaware,
of our loss of joy, loss of love , loss of fire
ardent passion filled flame lost to ashes,
we are dreamers, dreaming of the beyond,
dreaming of the cosmos, dreaming of love lost
dreaming. . . dreaming . . . dreaming. .
until the day finds us,
   time does not stop, nor is it forgiving.
       yet we cling to night, to our cosmic dreams,
as well fall into walls of depravity,
   on the foggy shores of life,
        on the train that never reaches the station,
we become fixtures, tied to our dreams,
   tied to the past we are s̶h̶a̶d̶o̶w̶s̶ ̶n̶o̶t̶ ̶l̶i̶v̶i̶n̶g̶
.

Why is there shame?
    Why do we adopt a different tongue?
        Why do we call ourselves "ghetto not from this nation"

While Abuela rolls in her grave
  Each wrinkle a reminder of our greatness
      Each reminder  a moment of greatness once passed.

Do we call ourselves American to fit in?
   How do we face Montezuma,
      Our nation suffers and burns,
          Devils demonize
              Children Cry
                 Separated from mothers arms
                    In the name of Freedom!


So why is there shame?
    The rain a reminder of a tears of a once great nation
        Pillaged and burn our bodies became the bridge
          Our hands built this empire
             Our people yet are still slaves.

Where is the shame?
     Mother speaks in broken English
        Families laugh and our culture continues. . .

Stolen land, tears, indigenous **** time does not erase.
Nor should it erase our ANGER
But our people preach love not hate.
Once more we are beneath the masters boot.
Modern Day Slaves

But there is no shame,
for our culture exists,
even after the destruction of our once great state.

When you say "I love you"
   you say it to her,
           you it to them,
          so I fake this s̶m̶i̶l̶e̶. . . because its hard to say goodbye. . .
                 what a fool I am. . .

The crinkle by your eye,
red flustered cheeks,
when your sly smiles starts to rise,
warms my soul.

Keep smiling, keep laughing,
your happiness, a buzzball of fun.
Invigorating, inviting & pure.
filling this world with delight.

Smile, always smile and be happy.

Lights, marquees,
  3.5 million people
unpleasant smog, glass buildings
twinkle like night stars.

Cigarette smoke
  gin on the rocks
a lone over aged woman sings in the night
dry exhausted lips, underpaid dress

what is there to love
   when you let yourself go
      and now sit alone. . .

We are taught not to envy others.
   but I am a failure at life, a sacrilegious romantic fool.
I envy every second of the hand you hold,
so unaware as you gaze at your phone.
  Envy the seconds you sit together for a meal,
     ignoring one another.
        Envy when you sleep together,
           only to cheat together.

I envy others,
  my eyes fill with hate,
    for they serve as a mirror,
      in them I see me.
          . . .I'm s̶o̶r̶r̶y̶ . . .

So many nights tears fell harder than rain;
     writing about you.
Used to look forward to death;
     To the day we once more met.
Yet, in endless agony;
     "He" made me love again.
So touch me, Hold me, Love me;
     So , I know I am not insane.
I used to be afraid to love;
     But, he  has me in love again.

-Sorry

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡
♡┏┓┈╭━━╮┓┏┓━━┓♡
♡┃┃┉┃╭╮┃┃┃┃┏━┛♡
♡┃┃┈┃┃┃­┃┃┃┃┗━┓♡
♡┃┃┉┃┃┃┃┃┃┃┏━┛♡
♡┃┗━┓╰╯┃╰╯┃┗━┓♡
♡┗━━┛━━╯━━╯━━┛♡
♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡­♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Inside my mundane complexion
constant tides and angry currents stir,
it bites and claws at my insides,
hoping, pleading, to form the words
for him to notice how much he means to me.
But another voice, internal screams out.
Even though ages have passed,
flesh has turned to dust,
my heart is yours,
my mind is yours,
my brain is yours,
my lust is his,
  but your voice,
         leaves me s̶p̶e̶e̶c̶h̶l̶e̶s̶s̶,
            as I know I am not the one.

I smell the air, as clean as a city air can be.
I feel the pollen, with its unrelenting itch on my nose,
I hear the birds getting ready for the summer heat,
I see the lovers who always cross our street at three,
I taste the honey, that you loved in your tea.
I smile, three years in the dark,
three years blind, death, within the darkness of this world.
For you are gone, and that is okay.
For in these moments I know you stand by me.

Bruises turn to scars,
but memories never fade,
my soul weeps in silence for this love,
why do I stay?

Tasted,
   dipped fingers into chocolate.
Figures;
  Glutenous Pig.
"Sorry";
    there goes the notion of trust. . .
Endless "hey cutie" inboxes;
   I picture doing it back.

yet I stay ,
   sick for your love,
I stay. . .

In this endless song.

-Stay

The room spins, in our mind this is a silent waltz.
Two alcohol induced souls, the musics gone,
the lights are low , yet we dance and continue to put on our show.

No more twirls, no dipping low
Just whispers between two strangers,
Your eyes, mirrors. Reflecting a heart thats incomplete,
a lonely soul.

The dancing's done, the night is dark,
yet in this anguish, I contemplate,
was it love or lust? the silence of my own anguish,
Longing for love, wondering if was the stranger at the bar.

3 years ago you left this world,
   3 years ago I ceased to exist,
        breathing became life,
             until yesterday,
                 I decided to live again. . . not for you. . . not for them. . .
                         but for me. . . -strength

Citrus, rosemary and peppermint (from the hot chocolate you hate)
under the Christmas lights (of the mall you hated),
these memories, push them out.

Our laughter at your stupid jokes ( I hated),
stolen glances, and a given kiss,
amongst the cold outdoor desert air.

Poets of passion,
writing stories of love on our skin,
a language of desire and longing.

Your ink forever stains my heart,
a reminder, that I am not happy,
that I am not good enough,
that I am forever mourning.

My heart which longs to fickle,
it longs to belong, someday, find another.
Yet it is chained, with a fragile ember,
amongst your ink that stains it.
That refuses to die, that you are alive,
you are breathing, you are here, you never left.
( I hate myself)
(I hate myself)
(I am a fool)
I wish to hear your stupid joke, "what did the horse say. . ." (what a stupid joke) once more.

I want to write a novel;
   of my many heartbreaks.
But my brain whispers;
  "he still won't come back"
I want to pickup my pen;
   see melodic reflections in tears.
But;
   he made my eyes dry.

-Sweet honey

Sweet melancholy,
   falling and not getting up,
                   trying to succeed,
                           to find yourself loving alone,  
                                   fight but here the sad news,

Sweet melancholy,
  when you lose your hair,
           angered at the world,
             fight, fight, fight only to find yourself alone,
                                                                       you hold it in. . .
                                      
Let me hold your hand,
   Let me in, Let me hold you.
       I promise to learn from my mistakes,
                                                       to get better,
                                                          to love you more. .  .

Sweet melancholy,
           ardent smiles set,
               tears of rain that stream the soul,
                                       you want to be alone. . .
                                                   volcanic eruptions of anger and rage. . .
Sweet melancholy,
I lost something I can't replace,
                                close my eyes. . .
                                         take me under the endless stars,  
                                               ignite the heavens in my sleep,
to a place where we can call "home" together once more.

- S͎w͎e͎e͎t͎ ͎M͎e͎l͎a͎n͎c͎h͎o͎l͎y͎

Rosemary Citrus, the scent of you clings, a shroud
of broken promises, whispered words of appeasement.
Your mouth, a strawberry, ripe upon the tongue,
sweet, smooth and beautiful, but this tune is already played out.

Your touch, a bitter sun that burned away the cold.
Your voice, a violent vine that ensnares my heart.
The memories, untamed, phantom limbs of pain.
"you need to lose weight", "you don't try hard enough", "stop complaining".

Save me , break me from you roots that hold me down.
Let me feel the fire again, as I am burning alive.
Embrace me in his grace, his fire, his warmth, that burns you away.
So go, sweet young love from yesterday.
I love you, I love you, I love you,
but I choose to love myself.

Take my lips, and stain them.
Take my arms, and hold them,
Take my heart, and break it.
Take my eyes, so they can see,

Take my hips, and move them.
Take my legs, dance with them.

Better yet. . .

Take my soul, into yours.
   So we can dance in a state of purgatory
      in endless bliss, take me. . .

-T͓̽a͓̽k͓̽e͓̽ ͓̽m͓̽e͓̽

Remember, the cold desert breeze.
The strange silence  after the cicada's song has gone to sleep.
Bare concrete floors, a broken down door.
An old computer desk with D+J carved into the wood.
Beat up old bed, with a lone gaga poster on the wall.
How, we thought we were "different",
When you'd tell me on the phone, "its going to be okay, I'll run away with you".
I dreamed of a warm home, now I have three.
I dreamed of a car, now I have four.
I dreamed of money, now I have too much to count.
I was cold,
                Hungry,
                          Angry,
But at least I had you.
from diapers until 23. . . we were always together . .
Almost a decade later and I wonder if you are still up there
gazing at me.
    If you are proud of who I became.

I'm tired of waiting,
with my arms empty in embrace,
of my eager heart yearning to hold you,
I thought about those delights of the days and nights.
Fictitious thoughts of true love the heart that longs.

The sky is brighter today, the air smells different.
Free of the stale promises, the flowers bloom a new path
unburdened by the weight of your lies and games.

No longer a ghoul, that haunts me in our own home.
No more whispers, no more glares,
No longer feeling the disappointment in my actions.

Life is a rainbow of multiple colors,
bursting from the clouded storm,
that shrouded my laughter, my forgotten melody re-learned

This is my time, this is my dance,
My spotlight, your words "it's over" guides me,
To draw myself ( loving myself), a masterpiece in progress,
you broke me, stripped me, caused me to hide,
but no longer, I am living for me,
I have the right to live life,
the right to be happy,
the right to live without you.

The song of youth is quick, the curtain falls.
It concludes from grandeur to silent halls.
No more applause, No encores,
Just chasms amongst the skin, as shadow linger, memories ache.
Will you still love me? Asking the question you already know.
Changes nothing. . .

The womb is the safest place,
   The moment we enter the world,
        Beauty becomes an adjective for baby,
           It is in that moment, we are told our flaws,
          It is in that moment, we are destined for our own Greek tragedy
                    For in our quest to conform, we become deformed beings
                                                 a figment, of what we were destined to be.

As he leaves, he takes his memory.
His ways of being, his current of emotions,
His sweet honeydew smell, his way of being goodbye
and never.

Still nights, the superficial,
,
Without noticing you went from him,
to it, to a thing.
polished thing.
Falling, slipping
crying, sweet anguish thing.
Sweet thing, trapped in captivity of the entrails,
of the knot already forever binded,
blinded from the sobbing, you lose yourself
sweet thing.

Until one day, another stops the pain.
Stops it, and reduces it to an annoying
voice, a mysterious touch, to a resurfaced polish.
Offered, given, taken,
sweet thing the hidden loneliness all but awaits,
you fail to feel its quake as you play the game again.

Maybe one day,
I can escape the chasm of mental ignorance,
              Dance the art of intellect in perpetuity
                                             Time does not forgive. . .
                                                              It only takes. . .
                               The mind ripens, the body weakens,
                                   Swallowed by a raging sea of damnation
                                             there is no SOS, no cries, only silence.

Every flower eventually wilts,
    Every bone rots,
        may history be forgiving. . .

5 a.m., off to work
6 a.m., huffs and puffs I am running late
8 a.m., mundane calls
10 a.m, mundane lunch
12 a.m., longing for it to to be 8 p.m.
tick, tock, tick, tock
hours and mintues pass
only to repeat again tomorrow.

He loses his beauty,
loses his grace,
loses his wit,
until he is no more,
until there is nothing left to pick.
He gives freely, begging the sky for grace.
But he is confined to hell, all in the name of those he loves.
Time does not forgive.

Is she worth it, the stress, the pain, the hurt?
The tears as you beg her not to leave.
Is it her smile? That brings you comfort and warmth?
Is it her anger and jealousy? That makes you feel wanted?
Is the scratches or the bruises? I hear your reasons why.
She breaks your heart, steals your pride.
Leaving you shattered, incomplete,
She is a parasite, that has you caught in her treacherous tide.
I want to yell, I love you, I am here for you, be happy.
But I know you don't love me in that way,
But you are strong enough, my friend, to love yourself,
to choose yourself, to leave.

Amongst the desert, with its silence
broken by the cricket that does not sleep.
There is a tomb, your tomb, adorned by flowers.
With their beautiful everlasting Hughes of yellow and blue,
tainted, sun bleached, plastic flowers,
trash littered amongst your grave
tells the tale of someone forgotten. . .
In this tomb your name is carved,
with its letters lost to time,
& on moonlight nights,
under the basking of the stars,
amongst the waves of my damnation
I wish I had more time,
   I wish I you proud of me,
        I wish I could turn back time. . .
for even in death, I fail you.
    just look at your t̶o̶m̶b̶. . .
          I'm sorry. . .

Hold me like you used to do,
Let my thoughts run free to the moon,
      Let my arteries burn in lustful flame,
             Let me fall in love all over tonight,
for endless are my sorrows,
  so endless my miseries,
        I'm scared. . .
          so let me experience . . . love. . .
                at least for tonight.

Truth is but fabrications,
a figment of inspiration.
I can't compare life or death,
Nor the sound of your breath.

Time goes by, and seasons change
No one sees you walking down the street,
Its fall but flowers bloom without leaves.
and here I sit and wonder what is truth?

Eyes closed I learn to paint,
In solidarity I paint your soul,
Brighter with every stroke,
My painting is monotonous,
for it only paints you.

Everyone around me dances,
I ask myself everyday if I have gone insane.
With a smile on my face,
What is truth? What is lie?
All I know is you. . .

Nobody sees me,
but I see you.
truth rejects me,
Fantasy to me is real,
For its all I see, and that Fantasy is you.

My face in stillness,
threads a shroud of silence.
My skin lightens, my blood thus fades,
it burns and cooks my soul alive.
As it weeps and wallows in the agony,
slow un-coming unforgiving death
slow slow slow death
what a joke of agony
life plays
as its bow plays the tune of my pain
forever linked, forever intwined with your death. .
a t̶u̶n̶e̶ that never ends . . .

Turn off the lights,
hide my flaws,
just love me in the dark.

My heart is a lighthouse,
   each beat a cut in the endless human sea,
      a cut, in the grandeur of the dreary sky,
          it spins, and spins,
             each Ƥùl𝓈є full of light,
               until with time it fades,
                    a reminder,
                        of longing,
                             belonging,
                                 wanting,
                                     yet fulfilled.

My tenderness for you,
would like to be the grave; the land, so that you rest in my hands.
That is why at 2:48 AM, my alarming thoughts are purified.
As I quietly dig my own grave, u̶n̶t̶i̶l̶ ̶w̶e̶ ̶m̶e̶e̶t̶ ̶a̶g̶a̶i̶n̶'̶

Sleep my love,
may nightmares turn to dreams,
may worries fade,
may your past become your future.
until we meet again.

Sleep my love,
save your voice
become one with my dying heartbeat,
may your words that bring a sweet melancholy,
not be wasted on me.

May we meet again,
         fight again,
             laugh again,
                love again,
so let my eyes close and heart sleep
in the sweet moments of our goodbye
           until we meet again.

I am dying strangely, love does not **** me.
My heart is still beating, death does not yet visit me.
I am dying of these memories, a would of longing.
Do you feel my pain?
This memory, that has rooted itself in my soul.
It ***** away all happiness & sadness, why does it not bloom?
This memory of you I can not erase,
Time does not forgive , I lost myself more and more in your old embrace.

Every kiss you make,
  memories will cross your mind,
      and you will feel my lips once more.
         Forever tied in unyielding song forever on repeat.

My love,
Tongue of vitriol,
amongst ripped pages.
Amongst unaltered belief of a winged partridge
at my back beckoning my faults.
Tears that stream, like trees with broken nerves
that never touch the ground.

This is what I see in the darkened hour,
This is what I see in the mirror,
amongst the pillars of the chapel
a figment of my imagination,
I am but a pigeon amongst a sea of doves,
incapable of words, incapable of love letters like Rilke the poet.
Only capable of vitriol at the tongue
scorning love, scorning life, scorning death
yet living it. . .how ironic.

You forgot,
and yet I wait.
In our home,
with the peach tree that blossoms in the spring,
the lantana that loves its sun,
and the rose that only grows stems.
longing to forget, longing to leave,
but stuck in the same place.
waiting for you.

What I had, is what I did not have.
Perhaps what my heart should have wanted,
each love song, a curse and blaze.
That singes and burns into my heart
I hear you, hitting me,
forging me,
into a statue forever stuck in emotional wanting.

8 Billion Souls in this world,
I continue to choose what god took away.
Longing for the day we meet again.