never
entertain

slutty

women.
or

never eat spider webs
can work too..

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

i scrape out dirt that one
can’t see with the naked eye
from underneath my nails
out of anxiousness
desperation
needing to feel
the keratinized layers add
femininity to me
cleaning them out
twice more
nine times more
seventeen times more
i pull my hands away and stare
at the chipped clear polish and
savagely push back the cuticles

forgive me for i have forgotten what love feels like
tastes like
and looks like,
so even if i were to stumble into her on the street after all this dies down
i wouldn’t even recognize her
nor have the slightest idea on how to keep her

and she
cried
and cried
and cried and cried
until her eyes
rolled
back.

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

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..

she didn’t go after him
because he was easy to apprehend

it was no challenge

and that’s just no fun..

anxiety hit
the shakes followed
and the snow was hitting the house outside
surreal almost
sounding like pop rocks
in a moist throat.

oh she wanted to be held by
the strong hands of inner peace
she layed in bed and
prayed for forever as well
as now.

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 learned/ i was told in fourth grade
that when you talk really gentle and sweetly
to a plant
it’ll grow faster than if it was in a loud and angry environment.
i was given a small aloe bulb and i kept her,
promised i’ll water her when it’s necessary and a little bit in between
and put her up on the window that catches the most light.
and so i followed through
and so did she.
and now i cut open her prickly yet juicy leaves whenever i need an organic face mask for my hideous adolescent skin.

my pale palms were up
catching the scorching tears that
snuck out of its ducts
with my head faced down
impressionable and ill-hearted..
for it seemed like i
had no choice earlier but to


run and look for answers




-what have i done

it’s like i could still hear her

calling my name.


she was too impatient to go..



es como si nunca te hubieras ido..

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 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

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 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.

she watched toy videos
in the back of the bus
on her dads phone so she would cooperate
as he clipped multicolored sunflower
hair clips to each twist
from the beauty supply
brown skin growing brown hair
from rich roots
grabbing one by one out her bookbag
tedious and tender work
a twist around the back piece and clip
twist and clip
twist and clip
he finished and pulled back in admiration
of his work
she looked up and
looked lovely
just like her mommy
with every heart break he’d be there
every recital
every show and tell
every teacher conference
and she’ll always,
no matter how old she grows
no matter how far she lives,
be his baby girl

his heart was just a
street food that
people indulge themselves in,
the girls,
like the children they once were,
insisting on using their
chore money to have the delicacy with
powdered sugar and drizzle
atop of his stillbeating *****
she winced and smirked
the sight of it
vulnerable at the fair
his heart juice dribbled on a sleeve
because of her
the thought terrified yet
satisfied her

to be wanted once again..

Tonight
Im having trouble
sleeping again.
So I am writing.
You seem not to care
and forgotten about your
****** jacket and so it stays
across my room.
folded.
in the closet.
inside of my bin of clothes
Im gettin rid of which is also next to the
bin of clothes
that surely dont fit
anymore

. .
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 noxious smell of gas from worn out
amusement park rides
the blaring sun making the group picture take longer
whines and groans and chants for iced water
misty cool mornings after the storm
the distinct smell of grandma’s car rides
the waves of nostalgia when you see graf on the walls in williamsburg
the laughter of kids on the swings while walking past parks
remembering the child you used to be,
swinging
escaping reality
knowing those children will be just as lost as you one day
looking at sand
boys legs stretching like taffy
and it’s like we never moved

then the laughter would subside and
our chests, more like your chest and my head would touch.
then our knees, more like your knees and my thighs would touch.
and it’s like the atmosphere got warmer
just for us two.

knowing that as odd as it sounds,
the love that we have,
or at least feels genuine,
is so real.
so i plead for you
to not leave.


but by accident
i closed my eyes for too long
i opened them quickly but too late.
i’m back here now.
in a ball.
laying on my parents bed
trying to continue that daydream but still incapable..

let our love be sustainable..

..
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 shouldn’t have to look at old photos to
remember the bond we shared
and tape up fallen parts in this broken down love

spray painting the dirt green
cuz it’s easier on the eyes

******* in my stomach for the picture because altered me is the best me

treading everyday with a painted smile because that’s what a real lady does

we went to the city and we walked
past the horses and the monuments in the dog parks
past the rollerblading dancers with their obnoxious boom box
and the people asking for change.



i wore a loose romper that afternoon and
you said my *** looked
wavy.

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.

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’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.

she saw me and took me into her shrine
I worshiped her
with your smell on these petite hands of mine.
Saw me as the innocent kind
so things went fine
and we kinda just spoke our minds
talking about our demons dying in the nighttime.
when she'd give me an endearing look i felt the
shock in my spine.
it was eased with the aged red wine for most of the time.

then she said we'd only fall in love when the stars aligned.

so we hugged and
departed and with dismay
i wrote these lines to then read another day.

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.

i watch people when on mulberry,
there is always the little man
that hides in his
shack-type flower shop
extending from the deli
he keeps it closed when bristling winds
fight through the plastic flap that
tardy boyfriends peek through and plead for
orchids when late to their dinners
there's the tall slender man
with a faded stick and poke on his wrist
that takes turns
smoking and drinking his coffee
and hocks up phlegm and shoots out
like a spiderweb
the oblivious little girl with
***** blonde ringlets
steps on it with her new light up skechers
being preoccupied looking at puppies doing their business on
signs that say clean up after your dog

and then i boarded my bus to see the same thing unfold tomorrow.

Why is it that
the Sun is larger than the planets
but from where we are,
it looks so small?

or why does it look like I
only notice the clouds follow me
when I’m on the road
missing you..

but the thing is
we’re so insignificant.
The Milky Way we’re in is huge
but the universe is even greater
my head is exploding with fragments
of bone and grey matter.

I watch outside the car
as I pretend that all the raindrops that scatter
across the windshield collect and streak down the window
are racing.

And only he is on my mind.
All of our memories and moments collecting at the bottom..
My mind fleeting of such temporary happiness.

Separation sometimes helps people learn to miss others.
And I swear I've learned my lesson..
I just need him to come
back..
Amy Winehouse is breaking the silence in the car
and as she got me thinking
since I'm just so needy for him..
will he still love me
tomorrow..

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

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..

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..

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.

the pressure to have the
perfect summer
i look at my baby hands-
as if they’ve never laid a finger
on a sponge
the Ajax and sprinkles of water
coagulating into dusty paste
against a tub
the color-
my nails of course-
glistened against the tense rays
of our obnoxious star
‘créme brûlée you say?’
was the color

i take verses from song
of solomon so as to feel
what’s it’s like to be loved
like the shullamite girl
i wrap the verses of isaiah
‘round the rings of my simple fingers
so as not to forget all that is promised
i grasp the verses of revelation
in an unshakable fist
so as not to fear what is to come

/

the chain
is as strong as its weakest link
harmartia
you have oxidized the chains
that had guarded my
mind and heart
you weakened and exposed
the harmartia in me
leaving me ashamed
unforgivable and
unloveable

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...

“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

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.

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

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.

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.

unraveling the powdery ball
from being encased in plastic
sinvergüenza!
you left the price on it to
prove how much you do for me
i watched the bath bomb
that you bought me months ago
still fizz after i put it to soak
after months of being disregarded
and saved for the perfect,
most overwhelming time,
it still had it's touch
the passing months
we broke down
in lukewarm waters
traced our love with chalky fingers
and the memories didn't matter anymore
essential oils fill the air of my bathroom
and the stress releases and i become pure again
it was so beautiful and
i must thank you
for what you left of me

scrubbing grime from the
shower walls
with only a cup of water in my body
i wished to endure my fast,
witholding ingestion to
spite my face
feeling dizzy
i reluctantly accept the gentle
beams of sun that hug
my neck
and caress my shoulders
reminding me i hate it here
and
i miss that hole i used to be able to call
my escape
that hole that i met each of my friends
and got to know them better
build memories that would
be forgotten once everybody moved away
just wanted it to last a little longer.