the birds were perched up
congregating
atop of the Rite Aide awning
they fly in twos descending toward
the local pizza shop
with the faded awning
tearing at the seams

trying to make sense of it all..

mi novia del campo
tiene pelo rizado but she always stuffs
her curls in buns
and she layers her gold necklaces that have been passed through generaciones of abuelas
and she always ran en el campo
sin zapatos

comes home and cries on her bed
soaking her bata
her sweet coquito tears
making me drunk

oh how i want to make her happy
mi tesoro del campo..

can't assimilate myself
into reality
mixing and floating
making friends with these
emotional beings we call companions.
it's beautiful
succinct and scary all at once,
being allowed to exist past every sunrise,
the ability to recreate our existing into living
let me fade like gold-plated silver
while I smile as the earth beneath me curdles and becomes
hollow
like the humans that inhabit it

Are you the type that'd rather know how they'd die



or when they will.

Or will you just look at me crazy like you usually do when I talk like this
and then just look away
trying to hide the possibility of you

already having an answer.
Having already contemplated on the subject for some time now.

the cold wind was fighting to come through the car
sounding like a flame while the car zoomed on the freeway
my heart burned
all the chipotle and heartache i guess
there’s bumps on the ground and i look to the side of the freeway and there’s soiled bottles riddened with cigarette butts
there’s bumps on my legs
you rushed me and now i have little tissues on em


maybe we rushed this too..

i miss her sunkissed skin
and the way she'd attempt to hold back her
laugh whenever everyone in the
house was
sleeping.
i miss the way she'd look at me
all confused when me and
her mother spoke and glanced her way.
That conniving smirk.
She knew she could get whatever
she wanted
if she played her cards right.

dear brain,

thank you for
giving us another day of life
it hurts when you hurt us
we didn’t do anything to you
face is beautiful the way she is
when hands hold the device
and you compare us to edited girls
you fixate on every imperfection until you convince us we’re inadequate but
when eyes look in the mirror
we convince you
we’re enough with mouth’s affirmations
we feel whole again after
dicing parts of limbs
saying you are deserving of all that is pure and good but there are but’s
tender is the skin that
still holds pencils to write poetry
and we want to eat
it feels rewarding when palms are allowed to wrap around utensils to sustain us
refreshing when stomach is full and glands produce happy hormones
please love us the way we love you


                                   from,
                                           body

she wrote all there was to write
and she moved to song that her father used to listen to
beach rock
their favorite.
she missed him

she looked up from her desk
then to the side at the waste paper basket
full of failed poems..
walked over to her bed

and kept one finger on a low key
on his Casio until something struck her.

i wiped my supple yet salty cheeks with my chunky sweater sleeve
and i feel the waitress stealing glances of me in the silence
trying to comprehend what kind of pain i was going through.

i took my feet off the cushioned seats across from me and put my laptop in my backpack behind an essay and a novel i'm almost finished with.
put money on the chipped wooden table and put my orange rinds in the mug
and went off with a
painted half-smile and a
broken heart

you
my angel
made me drink from the fine glass
of despondency before you
peeled my lips off my face
when you walked out of my life.

in your left hand
you’d whip my tounge around
that you rooted out my mouth
like a proud trophy you were left with
in a Roman arena after a good fight.

leaving me to make unintelligible sounds only
just trying to be understood in a world
that only revels in discernment
you slaughtered my greatest gift
from both wrists down

my ability to write
you had stripped from me
my ability to speak all the perfumed words
of my soul
you had weeded out..





why do you do this to me my love..

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

i don’t want to
dance if it’s not
with you.

me and ‘buela finished
predicando
and we sat at the dining table
near the china
soaking up the silence
she made me use a coaster
for my apple juice carton
looked across the table as she
struggled to slurp her
ice cream of a McFlurry
while i desired to know more of her
what life was like as a
single mother
she’d snort and call me ‘estupida’
if i asked
in her bags i see
loud discontentment
a friend i’m not a stranger of
i hope to one day learn her story
before i read it on a
memorial program

you’re beautiful yknow that..
new interest whispered in her ear
in his whip that night
he leaned in and stroked her arm
she winced back
reminiscing exactly what that felt like from the past interest
who would hold her and
promise that he wouldn’t let go
until new girl came around

she pointed to stripes on her forearm
pretty aren’t they
he stared and counted 7 long strides
his favorite number
seems like a lot but i got some more..
  mk but like why
she didn’t say that this one was for the time she first tasted
love and how it tasted sweet to the tongue
but toxic to the core
didn’t say that this was for that poem that she heard at a slam
that hit a little hard
didn’t say that this was for the day she cried until her eyes rolled back
didn’t come to mention that
this was for the day that she was hurt by the softest soul
not that this was for the day she only saw red and made a
pathway for her demons to escape
this was for today
for attempting to jump back into the dating pool
only to get flashbacks of an old interest
this was for self loathing
only saying
you wouldn’t understand
   well i got something that you can understand girl
new boy leaned in
quite flustered
she shoved him and
hopped out his dads corolla as he pulled up to her
and threw her soda on her chest
stay warm baby it’s cold outside

and pulled off
leaving her choking on old fumes and built up tears.

there are bad boys
and bad girls in our world
then there are good girls
and good guys.
then there are those
who changed who they are
just for their lover
and felt they wouldnt be compatible
if they didnt change their ways.
but the bad girls
are all trouble
the bad boys
are only here to hurt
potential lovers.
bad boys who like to throw the word
love
around
which becomes an
emotional massacre for many.
bad girls hurt bad boys and
then move on like nobody's business
these bad boys start to notice the grand perpective and end up as
good guys
good guys that know how to treat a girl
how he should
good guys that try not to fall in too deep
too soon in attempt to not repeat the past.
good guys that have a perfect balance
of good and bad
because they know what its like
to be the bad guy.

oh my love
ive told you ive been hurt plenty
and i may not be the best
out of the rest
but ive been told im
unforgettable...
still
dont forget me
for ive changed myself for you
and if you leave
i wouldnt know how to be with someone
without tasting you
like blood in my mouth

and then he felt like talking to her
made him see
through the dull and somewhat cloudy
transparency of the plastic prism
within himself
and he saw so much more light.

only realizing he was reaching
just too

close
to the sun.

i am renewed
i have 3 blonde streaks in my hair
i wear an anklet and an initial necklace and
gold and silver rings
this is senior year me
i always have my toes painted
and a hairtie is always on a wrist
the new and improved Everly
she still writes however more vivid
pictures to be drawn in the minds of strangers
through the coming together of letters
strung together like beaded bracelets from the deli-
more refined its magnificent
she doesnt use her pseudonym anymore
its just- her.
brown noise and its so sweet
frizzy curls entangled in music notes that swim in the air
and its all chaotic serenity

i slept well
i woke up this morning
only thinking about you..
wondering how you slept..
wondering if you’re all okay
wondering if you thought of me
too..

i feel useless when
i’m you-less..
i can’t help however that she’s
the one he chooses.
when you kiss her and watch me
it cuts me and you know
you’re ruthless.
in the playing field of love
i’m always the one that loses..
and to think the cutest would be
the truest
but really just the most
clueless.

beneath your small and rough exterior
you’re so sweet and your disposition feels so familiar.

we’ve met before

just not in this lifetime.
let us love like you knew this for some time.

it’s like i could still hear her

calling my name.


she was too impatient to go..



es como si nunca te hubieras ido..

Wendy,

what we have is a
tough love.
To be respectful i
have to call you
****/auntie.
But honestly,
you're my age so i really wont.
You've got a lot of attitude
and you're never afraid to
speak your mind.
Sometimes im amused by it
but my amusement of that conduct
only lasts so long.

even though your tough,
i could be tough too.

You were't raised with my father
and grandpa's not around.
Then shortly after
you were seperated from your mother
for being with the man she's with.
Since all four of you were seperated,
you guys all came out different,
but grandpa's strong genes led you guys to
all have the same
eyes
eyebrows and
the gene that gives you the extra urge
to want you to act on your anger..
hence why grandpas' in jail.

From the way you talk and carry yourself,
i realized that you want to live the way your friends do
with families that seem to have their lives all together.
instead, you put up a barrier
giving off the impression of
you not giving anything and
you could care less and
you could handle yourself
fine.
But when i look in your eyes.
You're crying out for help.
Admit to me
you're broken and you need help finding the pieces
from the disaster that has destroyed
years worth of childhood memories.
that had destroyed you and
has forced you to grow up.
that had destroyed you and
now resorts you to tapping into your
grandmas liquor cabinet from time to time
to "let go"
just knowing it will come back to you
right after the hangover.

she spoke rumors
thick as morning breath

traveled around the neighborhood
like wildfire

got cut off like a cancer


and forgotten like a new years resolution

Two days ago
I couldnt fall asleep again
Crap, i forgot to take my pills.
I grabbed your jacket again
thinking it could help me in some way.
Thinking too hard about the possible ways
it was helping me in a magical way,
I started reminiscing
about how good you are.
And how great of a father you
could be.
hold up.
kids?!
What am i on right now?!
god its late.
id lean back again and give your collar
more kisses and
an embrace.
And i drifted sound asleep
to the faint sound
of your laughter.

. .
being with you for a year and some months

and a ten hour conversation
i only then realized

between all of our subconscious thoughts
and drunken confessions

that

i was really loved
and i was so busy trying to guard myself
from potential heartache
that it was already too late before i really could

and i wouldn’t want it any other way.

the house’s light dimmed as each room
from the outside turned off
where the bugs in the walls really came to life
to light
in the dark
the cracks airing out
absorbing moisture from
showers that run a little too hot
there’s spots now
on the ceiling
like when i’d get in trouble as a girl for blowing bubbles on the wood floor
cleanliness over kids memories
‘ but can’t they make memories
without being messy ‘
mom would chuckle as she slapped
the wet mop to the ground in the next room
as i tell her my thought process
i saw the stain on the rug in my room
it was by the hands of the previous owners
of course
and i thought of how i didn’t hurt you
you came damaged
troubled
distressed
and i caught your eye
and i to you
hollow and needed soothing
like aloe vera to the scalp
a release once more
like acupuncture to the nerve
the satisfaction like finding the perfect
last line
for a poem
i saw the stain
and fell in love with you all over again
while my sister asked why i was smiling at the rug

she almost looked
prosthetic
if i never spoke to her
if i never felt
her
if i never spoke to
her.

she seemed programmed.
She laughed and smiled and nodded
and laughed some more
little did anyone know
it pained her everytime.

She was present
but not present.
very outgoing
when she knew
eyes were on her.

behind closed doors,
she was the most creative mind
only limited by
her fear of judgement.
she kept her abilities and talents hidden
under her pillow
in the journal she got from her father
on her sixth birthday
right before the
big fight.

dangerous
poisonous
thoughts started bubbling slowly within her
like a virus
viciously spreading
while she tried to fight it back
but it just
overwhelmed her
like a drug flowing within her
like a small yet potent dose
working its magic,
doing great things to her.

she started to want to
be wanted.
though no one said
anything
except the usual.
she didnt want to fall into the scene-
disguised by
popular kids and bullies
mixed in together.

She wanted to be noticed.
But she never let anyone
have the opportunity to notice her.
She started dressing different.
she started acting different.
started
talking
different
Eventually, she left everyone.
Heck, she didnt
have to be afraid
anymore.

cant bother a girl thats gone

the small dosage
surely
did great things..

protective styles
coiled with split-end balm
mantras
skate for 20 minutes
oil to the scalp after brushing
you're so beautiful
you're understanding
and grateful
we need detaching
to remember our presence
valuing life
fluidity and it's grace
piping lemon water
it burns the lip but it's good for you
leaving **** on the back of the tongue
valuing nunchi
mindful breathing
and not letting anything rob you of your power

you returned from a long day and
i was at the table on the desktop rushing to finish something up.
without words you started to play jazz on the tv and you grabbed me
by the hand and with a little shake i’m up,
smiling
certain of my uncertainty of what was to come next.

we started to waltz like fools all around the sala,
passing over pillows
me not even caring that you didn’t take off your shoes and
then we kept on stumbling since you don’t know how to dance.

and then we fell back
onto this crimson rug
we layed laughing and trying to catch our breaths at the same time..
unsure of how we led up to then.


through the crimson door,
my father walked through
wondering what i’m doing laying by myself
listening to jazz
with all my love letters scattered on this crimson rug..
i think i miss you...

..
and my heart knew what it wanted
my mind knew what it needed
my mind knew what it went through before
my eyes remembered those nights that soaked my pillows of drunken tears
..
but my soul painted murals of beautiful scenery and
cute moments and
and late night calls and inside jokes

starring us and it seemed so real i could just touch it
if i could just reach
close enough
i’d be
really ha-

i love him
         i love her
we fight sometimes
         here and there
this time it wasnt the same
i said something i knew i would regret
and that was it.
i was always giving comebacks
but i never got come backs
See i loved him
          and i loved her
but i make it difficult sometimes
          sometimes?
Okay, often, but thats because of my
scars
scars that cannot be
erased or healed
soothed or can
fade
I just know i want him back
i just dont know where to start..

you brought me a dead
rose and saved it till it made
a poetic mess

im just a sack of meat
who cares about too much ****
and shuts out negative opinions from well-meaning people
only hoping to
prove people wrong
only trying to give those the benefit of the doubt
and is just too
goshdarn
emotional.

we bury our feelings, hypotheticals,
and curious hearts from the remnants
of what was left in the void where
we both stash away our junk.
Only for the illusions to be rediscovered and relived when
"the time is right" like the ****
you keep in your sock drawer.
we bury feelings deeper and deeper only
to reveal that we couldn't really live without
the pain and memories of love and
how I was never good at playing games.
I almost expect for us to never be able to
be the same.

she wore bright pink socks with
yellow butterflies that she stole from
her little sister
that were on more of the smaller side
underneath her
Nike Prestos..

they were red..

and the color combo was bothering my eyes.

i’ll be waiting for you
to walk through the door.

i want to see your face when you see me



wearing only
your ring.

just got out of the hottest and longest shower
cuz i felt like i could possibly make my problems swirl down the drain.
there was no towel so f00k it-
i walked up to my room and took a nap in the nudee

i woke up to a paper under my pillow
i felt the crisp feel of it and i ripped it out of its hidden place.
It read:

“Longing is the joy of being sad-..”

i-i didn’t understand..
in smaller font than you usually write
it said..

“..i’ve been longing for so long i couldn’t describe..
im limiting myself with you..you wouldn’t understand..
i had to go... i hope you still love me..”

i peeked out the window beside me and your car was gone..
as usual.
i just laid back in my bed
and tucked myself in
and fell asleep to the sound of my world falling apart.

observing and studying.

behind every face, there is a story.
Which we all fail to
realize at times.

Fail to realize that she may
seem
like she has her
sh*t together even though
it's just a front.
She's on her way to
nowhere.
Running away from anxieties and expectations.
At least she has somewhat of a smile
right?
That's all we need to put up this front that
everything's fine?!
Fail to realize that he has creases on his
face
looking as if caused by laughter
yet from
shedding tears of both
pain and joy.
Scars on wrists and bruises on his
back
that stays as hidden stories
only revealed when he
wears short-sleeved shirts.
Seems like the only time
people want to pay attention.
Funny right?
Couldn't notice before right?

the uber ride felt longer than it was
the motions of the words that unraveled from his mind
rolled off his tongue and out onto the vulnerable open
fear of judgement only meaning the best
he said.
he didn’t want to hurt
he wanted me to see
open my eyes and look past all the puppy love-
if it’s worth investing energy into another soul..
i tuned out and imagined i was still with you
that night at the amusement park
when you held me- wrapped around my right hip
and you leaned and whispe-

do you even hear me..i’m sorry if i’m upsetting you

taking walks on this chilly evening
on w 45 st with a caramel wrapper in my back pocket
thinking about the old crushed valentine
i placed next to the waste paper basket from my ex saying
she realized she wanted to be friends with
a pack of chalky Sweettarts taped behind it.

taking walks
realizing i could've done things differently
like put the pieces together.
realizing she became more distant progressively for some time.
she was cutting off communication more and more
like it was a tumor..
as if if our love developed it would've been
cancerous.

she was just protecting herself..

“pale skin
highlighted cheeks
curled eyelashes- check
dead glossy lips
bronzer underneath
to make the deceased bottom
lip look pouty..
she’s ready to
go.”




-conversations at the morgue

coldness
the absence of heat
so many lives lost
in such little time
needing video proof to show
it's validity
the absence of love
that manifests in our children and in
our children's children
repeating chapters in history books
blandness
the absence of flavor,
the cookie-cutter complexion-
thin but not too thin,
fair with straight hair,
but everyone wants a sprinkle of
brown sugar in they culture;
the braids, thick-lipped smiles,
the slang, the suave,
the culture is the thing to be in
this day in age but the people
aren't embraced as much as their ways are
darkness
the absence of light,
and we become greater
when we become more informed of
the ripple effect
our actions have and carrying such things out,
offering that person a seat near you,
making them feel welcome,
like they belong,
I don't want to have to be afraid if my grandpa
will be killed if he makes eye contact with the police
like Freddie Gray
or if my cousin will be killed for
walking home with a friend like Gregg Gunn
but we're here
fighting for natural rights
pleading to be treated unjustly
by those in power
fighting the same fight our great-grandparents fought
lifeless
the absence of heart
of joy, of impartiality,
we all came from a woman,
we all bleed red..

no justice..
no peace..

no tranquility..

It's crazy to think that every day of life puts us closer to death. I mean it's life that kills us. Living is a slow suicide. Time is the pills we take, the calories we refuse to eat. Choosing to stay alive or choosing to die- in the end, the only thing that separates them is a handful of years and the questions we ask that never get answered.

                                                               Right?
                                                               Agnes

she’s so ugly
oh my gosh look at her
my classmates whisper about the
girl who’s always late
i push my eyes into their
home-y sockets
all i see is black
and toned down speckled
neon blue blotches
looking like adipose tissue
mushing
keeping my sanity contained
cushioned
their voices fade out
the teacher’s does too
drowned out
black waves encapsulate
the scenery
and it’s beautiful
i flow with the tides of
the silent madness of the ocean
i peer out for more but no luck
no boats
no scrambling children by the shore
no kites
no dock.
there’s no escape

if love were a food,
what would it be..?

i’ve grown very old since i used to be looked favorably upon
i have memories in each crevice on my face.
my wrinkles.
my happy scars

my husband would call them
he’s gone away a couple of years now and i grow lonesome at times
i don't see the beauty my husband once saw anymore

it started to fade away with the blonde to then gray hair on my head
they say its innate
along with the feeling of having youthful qualities
i used to be so ambitious and outgoing
i was one of the girly girls
not so beautiful on the outside perse but beautiful.

but now i dont do things that are ambitious
i send letters to my grandchildren in Austria
their mother always loved to travel
she was ambitious just like me
and she acted upon her ambition from the start
it made her beauty show in and out

oh treasure your youth young one
for you always are in a rush to get older
and try makeup
and wear heels
and go out with boys or girls
you are going to regret it when you get older like me.
be beautiful in your youth
be beautiful for eternity

i can never admire a garden again
for i see your reflection in the flowers..

i can never write a love letter again
for i fear it reminds me of all of what we had..

i can never deny you again..
for we both know
i can’t..
and

i can never be myself again
for i fear

you’re doing fine
without me and my
melancholic writings..

some days
my jules laughed
harder than others
and I knew she wasn't with me anymore
facing blunts more than accountability
and I watched her slip through my hands
she'd smile and it wasn't her I greeted
she became the light beam that reflects on a wall
unattainable
uncapturable
you chase it with your eyes
as it moves violently around a room
until it just dies out
and so we did

ay abuelo,

i never met you but
i feel like i have with the stories
I've been told.

..

you were the second man she took seriously in her life.
you'd drink and come home and break the china she worked hard to pay off.
you don't know the effect you've had on my father.
hes only met you once and
when he gets mad it gets overpowering
(must be in the genes)
he knows how to silence a crowd.
when he was younger, he'd look up to the tough guys that'd always win the fights of the neighborhood.

because of the lack of your presence
he found peace in the violence.

and now I'm torn since i want to meet you
but I'm just having a problem attempting to harness peace
in our silence.