a cartoon character
stepped fresh out of a
box tv
everywhere and nowhere at once
tall and arrogant as most adolescents
may be
except to him he’s
timeless
roots me back to
childhood memories i
wish i could remember
wanting to be held
never saying so
the barrier of not being articulate
just feeling
feelings
drawing on everything
but paper

this life
is a feeling
a speck in time
we follow generation
after generation
seeking something more than what really is
we mend broken pasts and
make broken futures
never quite finding that ray of
perfection
this life we sit in trains and
look at the graffiti on the walls
wondering if this is all that
this life stores for our next generations
while lights
flash in and out
and we travel underground
like worms in earth’s dirt
we are uninvited guests
in this life
land taken by foreigners in exchange for
trauma that will never fade
we claim land though
not being able to create in the first place
diffusion of races like
dried rice and seasonings
mixing colliding and supposedly thriving
from the ground up
this life
leaves us no joy
but robs us of certain happiness and we
are taught that
in this life
only the successful will make it
only the corrupt will make it

i never take advantage
of being able to
peer into your welcoming eyes because
it reminds me that in the midst
of dark
there is always light
and i feel your heavy heart
but tender hand tighten in mine
dreams and reality
we blur the lines
in actuality
yet everyone confuses
love with lust
but it's clear to see
the way you stimulate my mind
effortlessly
you were meant for
me
and there's no place we'd rather be

at a funeral
you don’t know what to do with
your hands
you see cousins you haven’t seen
since your grandma washed you together
in the sink as infants
baby fathers and exes that stayed close with the family
strangers and relatives alike
at a funeral
you don’t hear laughter
or ringtones go off
or the pounding of kids colliding
into people’s shins playing manhunt behind stools
with candles and
scattered memorial programs
only the stillness between the body of your
loved one
in a casket
and that’s the last way you’ll see them
you wallow and think back at pictures
of better days with them and it’s
surreal
that you’re gone
surreal that there is life
after you
people sit in rows and gaze to the front
the closer they sit
the more healing they needed
and the casket is adorned with festive cut outs
to ring life
in their cushioned box
at funerals there are
solemn carpets where
young widows have walked
childless parents have walked
long lost family have walked
and big men have walked
to carry the casket to the hertz
at a funeral
the directors place dollar boxes of stale tissue that
gets ran through without letup
and when people are ready to continue
living they go over to the primary family
hug them
reassuringly hold one hand
and make their exit unknowing of
the next funeral they’ll have to attend
in order to come together
once again

i fell in love
with his mind
the way he spoke
the way he cared for
our people
the way he seems to genuinely
care about the words that
trailed off my lips
like sugar on the rim of a martini
you’re his favorite part
he can taste it
we sit side by side
while i wish we spoke
and you continued to engage
the way you do-
you fascinate me
maybe it’s the hispanic female
in me that pictures us telling our dogs
how we met,
you loved my writings
and as soon as you spoke
i fell in love with your mental
but in silence and sporadic click clacks
of keyboard keys
do we coexist and think of
we

my mother admits that
my birth
followed by my siblings
hindered her growth
as an individual
as if we could've
kept ourselves
from leaving the womb
just a little longer
and now
she is stuck
learning about herself through
trial and error
mishap and reconstruction
of person
tearing herself down to
build us up and
she admits that her life
would not be bound
to the crumbling walls of this life
this current one
had she listened to the adults around
her had she chose
him
over my father

when i dice
warm-tendered skin
like a blade to
mango exposing sweet flesh
and glide cut glass
on pulsing veins
i feel present again-
brought back to earth by fire
take a long crunch and the juice
seems to drip and stream
off the side of my mouth
i stay needing more
never reaching contentment
feeling it stiffen and stick on my elbows
like icee syrup
a lightening bolt of heat
that runs through the sutures
of the back of my skull
i let out a deep sigh
needing to continue
needing to go deeper
go farther
release and resort to a pile
of used ribbons
loose and maleable
and limp
like my visions of you