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Oco Sep 2015
At age 19, we talked about how we’d change the world.
We spoke of revolutions, of leading the masses, of burning everything to the ground.

At age 20, we talked about how we’d make it in the world.
We spoke of Bachelor’s degrees, of political discourse, of graduate school.

At age 21, we talked about how we’d survive in the world.
We spoke of refinancing our car loan, of apartments with utilities included, of budgets and personal finance.

At age 40, we’ll talk about how we can’t change the world.
We’ll speak of groceries, of laundry, of parent teacher conferences.

And it will be too late.

Maybe at age 19, our children will change the world.
Oco Jul 2015
Beer cans roll in the wind
On the roof of my apartment building
Sometimes I swear inanimate objects
Have ulterior motives

Whose lips ****** relaxation
Out of that can?
Whose hand crushed it into a crumpled wind instrument
And left it lying on the ground
When it had nothing left to give?

When, if ever, will the wind blow it down
From this rooftop onto the street below?
Then where will it go?
Oco May 2015
I have been conditioned
To submit
To sacrifice
To shut up and take it.

From the very first advances
That were a little too aggressive
To the subtle denying of my wishes
When I said stop and you said “shhh…”
When I said no and you said “why not?”
When I said I can’t and you said “please”
When I put my hand up and you pushed it away
When you thought it was romantic
To push my limits
When you thought coercion was normal
And submission was expected.
When I stopped questioning
Why your needs were more important than mine.
When your mouth said “I respect you”
But your hands said you didn’t.
When your sudden coldness
Sent chills down my spine
When your charming side disappeared
And your true self mystified me.

When I thought coercion was normal.

When I started to feel like nothing.

When my body was used
But not satisfied
But not felt.

When your laugh in the dark
Made me feel like a victim
In a horror movie

Up until I finally decided
That you are the beginning and end
Of my objectification.
Oco Sep 2014
You're my warrior
The guardian of my heart
You make me fearless
A haiku
Oco Aug 2014
You won’t understand me
Until you swim to the bottom
Of my deepest darkest ocean
And take something with you
Back to the surface

And you climb to the top
Of my highest proudest mountain
And let yourself fall
All the way back down

And you give yourself
To the storm that perpetually brews inside me
Let it tear you to shreds

And you go to my most fertile place
And let me restore you.

And you excavate me

Then tell me what you find
Because I’ve never been brave enough
To do it myself.
Oco Apr 2014
sometimes i wonder
if the world i live in
is one i made up in my head
that exists only for me

and if that’s true
i don’t mind
because the world i’ve created
is filled with madness
but the best madness i’ve created for myself
is you
Oco Apr 2014
Mujeres heridas
Mujeres rotas
Mujeres violadas
No me dan

Dame las santas
Dame las perfectas
Dame las inocentes
Tocadas no sean

Tráigame vírgenes
Tráigame niñas
Tráigame flores
¿Dónde están?

No hay mujer
Que no ha sido tocada
De alguna manera
Tocadas todas están.
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