condescending,
condensed baby milk.
baby wipes wiping baby's rage
baby in a crib with Jack Daniels in her cage.
dummies and dum-dums and honey and Babe,
humming & strumming & getting on my nerves.
peek-a-boo!         i see you!
god, i wish i ******* didn't.
baby tantrum, mommy's head turns,
stifle a sob in baby's wrecked baby doll,
vases cracking, baby nappies flying,
now baby's mess is everywhere.
still, (enraged) what did you expect?
round and round the roses went
around the raging mood you've put baby through.
go and hide, mommy & mommy,
baby is glowing with murderous rage
& climbing out of her baby cage
with her tiny baby legs.
baby reaches over
and squeezes mommy to death.

my euphoria lasted as much as her last cigarette
the one she put in her pocket
at the risk of burning her favourite jacket
all in the name of reaching for something
that was definitely already there

espigas de trigo en sus pestañas;

ella es
aquel campo
al que te gusta ir
para ver la
puesta de
sol

i could see the sun setting
in the rearview mirror on her motorcycle
as i held on tight to myself and to her
i witnessed the sun rise on the other side of the road

scribbling
feels like i'm dig, dig, digging
into my brain
which is stupid 'cause i'm writing
letters that have no name.

my feather has been posed for far too long; ink has blotted all that i forgot
the opportunity to write has passed
and i'm left speechless in the absence
of all that was meaningful

different heartbeats
felt in different places.
resonate within
my eyes
my head
my wrists
my neck.

i have yet to discover what it means
and why i can't feel it
where it's supposed to be

in my headspace, the way words sound
on your friendly passionate tongue
darling, it makes them sound almost french
and i think that they shouldn't;
even though they do, and i know so too
i love how words sound when they are coming out of you

look! she said
pointing at stinky flowers in a drainpipe's head
i stared at the hem of the flowers' own dress
methaporical witness of the unfolded events
the downfall of love & grace & respect
"i shall name my next book like them" i said
but secretly i promised i'd write about something else instead

i
have
failed
myself

unfortunately, it was all i had left

do i renounce my will & my ways?
is this the point of no return?
am i falling hard into doughnut-like-smelling glace?

am i doomed as the forsaken one? do i need to shun Your Grace?
shall i wake you up in a minute,
with cold tea and easterly-brewed eggs?

am i supposed to never let old habits prevail?
does the sole pen feel the need to shine in moonlight?
or am i mistaken (in need of ginger ale)?

do people really write less when things go their way?
why must i hate the sappy?
(how could i convey the same?)

so tell me, my darling, am i willing to take the bait?
is your warmth going to last forever?
will i come back to my previous stage?

ahora ven y me explicas
el frío que hace en mi puta casa.

if you're gonna send a dagger my way
make sure your shield is
Up To DATE
'cause i'm ******* at your attention ***** ways
and i'm ******* turning in my grave

a personal ovation for the ones
left fearless.
when you've suffered six minutes
plus twenty seconds in hell,
you've suffered enough to stand up
and scream at those who'd rather you sat down

BAN ALL PASSIVE BEHAVIOUR
THIS IS MATTER OF LIFE AND DEATH
THE YOUTH HAS BECOME ACTIVIST AND REBELLIOUS
THE YOUTH HAS BECOME UNDEAD

Never
Respect
Armed men

who'd shoot (BAM BAM BAM)
upwards towards those who stand upon us,
or
the ones who scream mercilessly
WE WON'T SHUT UP.
this day of march we march for our lives
indignant and poignant,
rebellious and alive...
this fateful day of march we march for our lives,
because your guns aren't worth extinguishing the light in all our eyes.