I tried denying the fact,

Tried to carry back,

Who I might have been.



But you ruined me.

Crippled my soul.

Withered the me I could have been.

Now I’ll never know



My splinter soul

You killed for pleasure,

And tomorrow spattered the white walls

As you slaughter her clarity.

Forever, I may as well have known.



My family almost immediately

Had replenished whole,

Got back on their feet,

And begun a smile.

The sadness muted like defeating heat.

Or like clearing fogged, trickling tiles.



I realize I could have ----

Might have… existed better.

Perhaps with a higher feather.

To seize my voyage of safety.



But under the circumstances

That’s not achievable.

Highly improbable.



Much so, I’m not content

On what life left me.

What you left me.



I’m still struggling

To get to my feet.

I’m still in the middle of climbing a mountain,

Suspending to two sides

Of a rope attached to my belt, mounting.

My lifeline.

My sanity.



I want to keep both

In the same two hands.

If I renounce my hold on one,

The other follows.



So I claim in both my hands

What’s mine

I hold tight.

Standing on toes of tips of height

I put my trust to hang on that ledge of fright.



Just barley hanging,

Touching that stonewall.

Trying to stay in one place,

I fear to face,

To blunder.



At times I make the mistake

Of looking down,

And becoming aware.



Terrorized by the height.





Now you see…

I try.

I cry.

I relied on you.

I chose.

I dosed and didn’t see

What you put me through.



You murdered me,

And it’s too late to restore me.

Not with standing away

A single tear drop.

Are you bored of me?



You killed me along with my childhood.

I hope you enjoyed your fatherhood.

Because I was unaware of what you had done.



Did you really love me,

Or was it an act.

The fact

That you couldn’t love was clear,

But I don’t hate you my dear.



Father to daughter,

My love was there.

Something you have to live with

Something you have to recognize you never gave back.

Is that clear?



It’s not my fault?

It’s not your fault?

Then whose is it’s?



That person has to take responsibility,

And give back.

Apologize and beg.



Because I am not my own.

I can’t help, but blame myself.

I have no choice, but to agree

Because there is no individual to aid me.



My recovery can’t be complete

I can’t see the world as whole anymore.

I can’t be forever young, simply full, or pure.



I’m tainted, sour, and broken.

It’s your turn to carry a burden

To know.

How my heart has sorrowfully hardened.

Where I can’t be dependable of anyone so easily.



It’s time we both know

What you truly had done to me.

Hey...


                                                        ­    ...this is our little secret



                                                       ­                                                                 ­                  ...I love you




                                 ...forever

May I have your attention please
This is not a hoax
There have been reports
Of a mass suicide
Death count has reached over
800,000 per 1,000,000 people per year
Most commonly happens to youths and females
This is a plead with the nation
A global catastrophe
So please listen and try
To understand what is happening
In our society today
When you see a young adolescent
Comment on how hard he works
Not on his skin color or his preference in clothes
Nor his ideas about life
When you see a female
Don't call her ugly
Don't call her fat
Don't disregard her in any means
Compliment her on her eyes
The way she smiles
Make the world a better place
If you see a youth in distress
Offer some assistance
This Is A Public Announcement
Please do not disregard
A life might just be saved
If you listen for once
Help your fellow man out
We are all we have
This is Robert Guerrero
With DOBS News saying
Thank you and goodnight

half hearted apologies
200mg of sertraline
grapefruit (too bitter like acidic nostalgia)
concealed lust
that endings are so final
that they can still lack closure

French music
espresso swirls in my Chai
the rumble of conversation
clink of glass and silver
lean in to the chair back
admiring the view of a blank page
paper has poetic potential

when a voice crackles
severing my reverie
shredding my illusion
my carefully crafted imaginarium
I lean forward and type, suddenly
cringing, squinting, now
conscious of the fluorescent light
overhead and worker bees
buzzing in an office next to mine

my cup is made of paper
my music on a radio
my silver and glass only
kindly ambient noise
recorded by some lucky chap
really reclining
in a cafe somewhere
where they grind the coffee beans
fresh behind the counter

sad to think
my desk is no magic carpet
so much for a memory
of a Paris cafe

your stories are poetry
and my tired eyes
want your lullaby

you have the power
to allow yourself
to ask for help
to take for granted
to take some time
to take the healing pains off your mind.

Sparkling cracks
in the seam of things
yet things still seem to lack
your beautiful imperfection.
aren't there some questions
still unanswered?
taunting you to fill
those gaps with dependence
on chemicals
on fallen giants
on silly lullabies
like this one that echoes
when you dance through my mind
the absence of light
couldn't be darker
than hurtful intentions
of making me believe
in anything you can give to me
things leave us
blind to the truth.
the truth
that change is constant.