Listen here listen here
The world is so **** *******
Maybe all these terrible things are happening because it’s trying to be renewed
Our president is so whack
He keeps stabbing innocents in the back
Praising Arnold Schwarzenegger by acting as if he’s the terminator
Pero his wife’s an immigrant too
American dream who

We pretend to honor the OG’s who created this land
But now your trying to get them all banned
claiming them all to be rapists and murderers
Be humble sit down i'm tired of all these racial slurs

He says “We cannot aid Puerto rico forever”
But really we need to be working on this together
Puerto Rico is just a metaphor for how this president sees all Latinos and people of color
He does not see us as his equals, nor does he sees us as his fellows

Having the mindset being male and white
Is the only possibility of being right
Were all humans , we all fit in the same race.
We should not be considered by the color of our face
Yet somehow the white get all the praise
Why are we still stuck in this racist faze

Since 1963 when Martin Luther King said in his speech
“It came as a joyous daybreak to end the long night of their captivity. But 100 years later the ***** still is not free”
To this day even if they try not to say
The ***** is still treated so falsely.

Take a moment now to open up your eyes and stop all the self lies
Get rid that hate to open up the gate to a whole new perspective
A much more un discriminative kind
Then maybe just maybe the world wouldn’t be so **** *******

Hunger.
His eyes watching down his prey.
Stare so deep it reaches her insides.
Scoping through , searching to find the movies in her mind.
She blocks it , placing a wall , the light comes bouncing off the glass window and back to the wide eyes staring. Shook.
“Nice to meet you.”
He caresses her hand with a sunflower kiss.
Leaving her with his musk scent lingering behind with another movie.

I used to have this night terror...
a man or multiple chasing me
trying to kidnap me
I watched him kidnap so many others

he reached out to me
this scary man with a disguise of female features...
I never understood
where and what created this fear of abuse
at such a young age I ran from more men in my dreams than I did in real life...
I never thought of being abused...
I have no memories.
Was I? did something happen to me?
I will never truly know. I see kids getting kidnapped from their homes in my dreams
Do I know exactly what that means? How far will they take me?
Is it simply the fears of the world, pushed into a child's brain so that it may never leave, a matter of fact.
the knowledge that should be engrained. or is it the past lives of many once lived? / an unconscious collective of memories.
just simply I will never know.

the night terrors turn to day dreams
i witness myself being choked...
i can feel someone watching me
i lose track of time
watching some take their time on me...
i cause myself tears...

i create all these fears in my head
i can see them so clear
these fears i could never control
and i never once understood

never the memories of someone i knew
all strangers
created
from a memory
i almost knew

he comes home...
we never know exactly when...
I used to think he was cheating on my mother

maybe he always was
the liquor stole him away from us
he felt safer there
he had more fun with the liquor
as each beer went down his throat he was  more and more at home
he loved us
but the beer captivated him
it stole his attention and drove him away

when hed come home during the daylight
i can see his body swaying
I used not appreciate the fact as much that he got home safely each day in that condition
his words would slur....
each end of a word colliding with the beginning of the other...
sometimes he'd get so lost in thought
lose track of time on what we were talking about...

my mother was always mad....
I used to get mad too and never knew why
until one day
i gave in...
I gave him my forgiveness the one he never asked for
you cant teach an old dog new tricks....

I tried to support him...
but its so hard
my mom is so hurt....
just wanting a husband to come home too...
not to be drunk...
to help around the house....
to be cohesive with thoughts....
to spend more time at the house than he does at the bar....

it breaks my heart...
I dont know who to support
I love them both
w
h
y is it so hard to be a daughter of a drunk....

i have no memory of abuse ever...
just the fogginess and him coming in so late...
and the screams of my parents
I used to wish they got a divorce... just so the fighting would stop.

sometimes he was never around...
but I have the good memories too...
he truly did love me..
its an addiction you know?
maybe if he had the power or the knowledge he wouldve chose us instead of the liquor.
he is my father and I love him none the less.
He is one of the coolest guys I know. A real respectable man.
A TRUE OG FROM THE OUTFIELDS OF HUMBOLDT PARK.

who never got the healing from the childhood trauma that he shouldve
he is just a man who got trapped in an addiction so hard to run away from....
just trying himself to get away from the screams of his wife... reminding him daily of all his issues.
he is just a man who is hurt his baby daughter chose her moms side and would bicker at him too...
he has to deal with both women.
who can he turn too?
other than the bottle who would never judge him.
he is just a man who is repeating the steps of his father.
who didnt know better.
who is simply following the path he knows.
he tries his best.
he tried fighting it.
just sometimes it gets too strong.
he is just a man who didn't know about therapy at a young age...
he is just a man that feared to show tears or vulnerability.
to be anything less than a man
he is just a man who got stuck in the ******* and troubles of this world.
he drinks to forget the memories.
he drinks to not worry about the issues of daily life.

I forgive him and I always will.
This is what it means to be a daughter of a drunk.

A clear face that has this glow
Big brown eyes and bushy brows
Chubby cheeks but somehow still has cheekbones
A smile with dimples that she gave herself
Buck teeth that are super white and bright
4'9 with thighs of steel
Perky ******* that finally grew in
An *** that's bigger than her tiny body
Hairy legs showing others she doesn't care
Scars on her body representing the obstacles of her life
All with a personality that's bigger than her.

Don’t believe his words
Tryna cut your heart w a sword
Tho he says he’s genuine
You don’t know enough to know if it’s really him
He says he’s telling the truth
But I bet there’s a longer root
Don’t believe his words
Don’t you dare ever fold
Don’t lose a piece of you
Falling for this tool
Don’t believe his words
Don’t believe his words
Dont
Believe
His
Words

Am I fool?
Its not like Im inlove?
So what is this **** feeling?
Feels soft and intimate,
as if Im knowingly opening up my soul
sharing my emotions showing how I feel

I feel bare.
i want to restart.
ready to retreat.

did I kiss too soon?
Am I still in this pattern? my feelings have changed
but I'm still feeling weary

I'm still learning of my self,
but something about this does not necessarily feel wrong.

are we jumping too quick?
jump the gun on this ship.
I heard you so clear.
Your words soft and sharp all at the same time.
Eyes full.
"I like you and it wasn't a dumb question"

I just... no response.
Kiss instead.
What I know my body can do instead of using my tools.
Afraid to speak to soon.

My religion teacher doesn't care about the arts.
But what if I don't care about religion?
My parents forced me to go to a catholic school. But I am going to study arts in college. Why can't you accept that the arts is some peoples vocation in life. You explain in class how things we're good at or find an attracting too at a young age is our vocation. I fell in love with the arts at a young age.
Stop being a hypocrite Mr.Majewski and respect the arts.

Silence speaks louder than any word I could speak.

My silence speaks volumes cause I don't care to speak.

Just because I'm silent doesn't mean I concede.

frozen to death
its all i can see
smoke in the ear calls to my feens
Im here and Im there
making it hard to breathe
back and forth
falling up but always jumping back down

why or what can make this be seen.

Does the line of comfortability change due to culture? Can you handle less because maybe you did not handle more? Are you over sensitizing because I overheard? Telling me to watch the words I learned at a young age because Susies mom taught her kids those terms?

Do you only laugh at the people you enjoy? Respect the same of your own? Can you respect me even if you don't agree, I don't want to come at you, I don't think Im right but I don't think Im wrong. Agree to disagree simple to say it .

You tell me.... "I AM" part of the queer community as if I don't love a good ***** in the face.
You tell me WHO you are and assume who I am not.
I don't want to take away your voice, I don't disagree, I just wanna say mine too and how I feel....

"i wasn’t supposed to fall in love with poetry, but i did."

the words of poetry...
speak through my fingers almost as clear as my body dances...
the art i never understood
the words of poetry took me hours to understand
the freedom of poetry
it captured my soul
i fell for poetry
the freedom in poetry
its an addiction now
this feeling for poetry
the books I never got
the Maya Angelou poems that took days to decipher...
slowly fell in place
now its all i crave
to let go and let loose
poetry opened my legs
it ****** me up so hard
i squirted for poetry
i felt safe with poetry
poetry held me in its arms and told me its okay
poetry shared its tears with me
it let me cry in their lap
while it carressed my hair
poetry took care of me
poetry is like a mother
nurturing in nature
poetry is the long legged lady
picking herbs from the garden
to heal the sick
poetry is confusing
there is no true essence to poetry
sometimes its invisible or sometimes its perfectly clear
poetry is like that guy who ghosted you but he always comes back
i always feared poetry
felt too insecure for poetry
but poetry is so open
they are so kind
poetry held me and said its okay to try.
thank you to poetry.
its nice to fall inlove.

It isn't just her.
It's always been me.
They've always been prettier.
Had more of a pleasant appeal.
Each single one has been called "the it girl"
while I sit here wondering when it will be me.
It'll never be me.
My mentality is so sad, which is exactly why it shall never be me.
Always a bridesmaid never a bride, thats what they say.
Always jealous and depressed never going to be the one getting all the press.
I wish I could but for some reason I just can't seem to change me.

Tiktok.
---a place where people want to post videos to encourage others.
---a place where others don't relate to the video so shame the rest.
---a place where I just wanted to hear someone like me.
---a place where I had to read everyone hate on someone like me.
---a place where even if you know this video isn't for you, you must comment and let the world know this video isn't for you.
---a place where I can connect.
---a place where connecting is "shoving down your throat"?

sleepless nights
coffee driven
no motivation
just movies
and shows
dark circles
fills my eyes
tears loaded
realizing
the
wasted space
no work done
just sleepless nights
with no motivation
just netflix at night
and dark circles
becoming my eyes

crying for love, its easy to see
the more i crave the less i receive
Treat YOUrself with roses and love
Dont you dare share em with nobody else

you save it all for you my dear
now is time to face the fears and climb the tree high till watching the birds fly over seas

you deserve the world my dear
its time for you to let go of the fear
hugs and touches calm you down
let the please cause the ease
ruthlessly gathered  always skilled  
use the fight of the mighty mice

i believe you can see
a future that is near
a future that is here
a future that can be

I know that you are there
I can hear you crystal clear
flipping through the pages of this novel
never forgetting a single vowel

you'll never fold
for something so little, and peeny, and small
you are grand, and big, and tall
don't listen to them all
they're tryna see you fall

take it in wipe it out
you will be the one whom shouts
you will be the one they talk about
you will be the one climbing freely
one for all

you and me
the love that was meant to be

---I see the light I grew up with the light that would love and protect me. I'm scared I was just looking at memories and now it's just dark.

---who knows though

On train headed home
Going to be on my way to visit you
Even though I didn’t visit you much when you were healthier and living
Could this be guilt? How do you go watch someone die when you barely watched them alive?
I go because I feel bad, bad for my family that they’re going through this
That my dad has to watch his mother suffer and pass
I’m going for them.
Makes me wonder do they even need me?
Why should I go?
Am I a bad person?
I would rather go to class and do vogue
Instead of dealing with the cries because you may just die
Other people would be crying at the thought of losing you
Yet here I am ALMOST crying just because I feel bad and am frustrated.
How much does it really mean to watch one die whom you barely seen alive?

i met this guy
strangely through the oddest of apps
we spoke
we talked
and maybe even cried
6 hours long
the quickest of my life
he heard me
he listened
felt so understood
no judgment just love
on this forsaken app

i met this guy
he swept me up
with his 6 foot 4 body
reaching out his arms grabbing for me
through the screen i felt his touch
his large body
compared to me
so overwhelming
but comfort in it all
take my hand
help me up  

i met this guy
who surprised me
someone i didnt think I would meet
some would say heaven sent
and i nearly left that app
6 hours away...
please come find me

harder for me to let you go
since I never had the chance to have you
accepting it is what it is
I cant have hope...
it always disappoints...

but this guy I just met
please come find me...
the little bit of hope
i still have left
should I open the door?
or just take the next trip?

hope for me always...
but you did remind me...
hope for you now?
so untimely.

have u ever ****** yourself so good, listening to 'Cigarettes and Coffee', Otis has you left in tears from his tender voice mixed with the pulsations making you all sorts of weak.

Your sheets are wet, your pillow is soaked, and your body is released.

Cry because you love yourself. Cry because you can. Cry because you touch yourself. Cry because you are your first and greatest love.

uncomfortable
high
tweaky
high
boredom
high
speedy
high
anxious
high
hard of breath
high
failing at chilling
high
fritzy
high
****
****
****

you can tell how im doing by the look of my bathroom
remembering the idea of clean white tiles spotless as can be
now they show stains left from helpless cries
marks from stomach shouting and letting out hurls

the everyday wear and paste on the sink
the leftovers of my mornings
where some days I even forget the idea of my teeth

water splashes from the days i do remember on the helpless mirror
from spitting junk from my mouth
to splashes of water for the days I take care of my face

toilet paper running out with no spare or extra supplies
just leftover cardboard from the ones used before
no more baby wipes to help soothe my body

my trashcan is full overflowing to the floor

it is just a mess.

worse of all is the smell. I know the shower is bad enough on its own but adding all the rest... simply kills my soul.

you can always tell how I am doing by the look of my bathroom.

two ravaged hungry animals clinging to each others bodies
hunger turns to thirst and they are now fighting to survive
each piece of their soul is enough to feed
but how much do they take?

their bodies grip tighter their growls get louder

predators are watching as they mark down their prey
the eyes you can never escape