Persephone runs amok, her hair caught on tendrils of wind,
eyes lucid as emeralds; aware, alive.
Hope is sketched on her face as if drawn by whoever paints the sunset,
pulsating with the reflection of neon cities, rolling countryside,
the adrenaline-pumping moment before a rollercoaster’s descent.
She is high on happiness, running across her plane of existence
with only her converse sneakers and extraordinary ambitions.

Persephone knows she owes her unbridled youthfulness to Demeter.
Demeter, who is stern but unconditionally loving,
selfless, for when she hears her daughter’s plea for food she stops
her spoon midway through a bite.
When Persephone struggles with the perpetual torture of arithmetics,
Demeter’s sheer intelligence is astonishing, the iridescent reflection of
Persephone’s aspirations, for a problem to Demeter is merely
a hidden solution, a failure only a victory in waiting.

If only Demeter knew how her words are of the highest value,
her pleased smile the only affirmation to a job well done.
Her love cradled in the nook of Persephone memories,
every moment she is infinitely grateful to co-exist,
grateful for the Universe to award her the simple pleasure
of loving her parent with purity and stripped of conditions.

As Persephone runs, she glances back for a mere second,
in her smile is the mirror of her naivety,
she still believes that her Gods will save her from being a slave to
the inevitable corruption on Earth and Olympus,
for she is sure her untarnishable love for Demeter is her protector.

Yet, you know how the story goes.
In an instant, Persephone is falling into the Underworld, on the back of a beautiful monster into inescapable darkness.
But even then, she holds on to Demeter in thought and in prayer.
After adulthood, marriage, queenship, a childhood gone in a flash,
after her hands become worn with calluses, her face a series of rivers,
her mind expansive, her goals reached, Persephone knows she owes her unbridled youthfulness to the first person she ever loved.

I love you Dad, Happy Father’s Day.

My monster has...

A body like rusted steel
He has eyes like poisonous venom,
freezing you in fear.

He has a nose like he's waiting to charge
and the smoke coming out is very large.

He has a mouth like a grin
And it seems way too grim
as he waits for his chance to swallow you up.

He has arms as strong as your fear
and he won't play along
when you try to talk him out of his lunch which is you.  

He is as friendly as a snake
that lives from being vile
and he is as clever as the demons
in your mind.

He's as loud as the blasting thunder
that you hope is mostly outside.
He's as smelly as the sewer
that lives under your home.

and who knows,
that's maybe where he lives.
He's as frightening as the fear
he can see in your eyes.

My monsters name is Your Nightmare.

When monsters are gnawing
At your heart
It is so easy to surrender
Trust me I've lost that fight
Many times and
Regretted it every time

But it only takes one minute
Of courage
To stand up and fight
Trust me it can be draining
But you'll thank yourself
Later

As I stared
Deeply in the eyes
Of my pain
Exausted
And I was ready to breathe my last breath
I told her
I am done being scared of you.
I am done running away.
She cried;
Her eyes so wide
And gave me a hug;
Her arms so desperate
In that exact moment,
My last moment,
I saw.
She was never a monster.

The first time, at the age of four,
when I first peeked under my tongue
after brushing my teeth,
I got scared.
Frightened by the ugliness of it.
All the ruptured rivers of my veins and vessels,
the indefinite patterns of colonization of my cells;
a naked mannequin of the story I held inside.

It was as if someone had peeled the skin
off my tongue at my birth
and now all the prisoners were striving to escape.
It was as if someone had abducted the blanket
away, when I was sleeping
and now the monster under the bed was clawing its way out
asking if I needed a friend.

Scared that I would damage the fragile wires,
I carefully laid my tongue back in her cradle,
hoping that someday, the skin would be back.
That she had only walked around the corner of the alley
and she would be back.
That the vacancy in my heart did not mean she was gone,
she had only gone to the mall to grab some sweets
and she would be back.

Each day, I would steal a peep,
in belief that I might find her there.
Though foolish of me, sure, it was to hope.
Smart of me it was to stay away from despair.

I still get scared when I glance under my tongue.
But not because of the ugliness, no.
The darkness.
The darkness that, I know, flows beneath those streams.
The darkness that, I fear, resides behind my skin,
licking, biting and swallowing the hollow of my being.

I still shut my mouth as quick as I can,
sending my tongue back to sleep,
but not because I am afraid to cause damage, no.
The destruction.
The chaos.
All the words that hide inside my enigmatic brain.
All the demons that lurk around the shadows of my heart.

The beasts and ogres that I once crafted
out of the ashes of my soul.
They skulk in the void of my chest,
their laughs echoing around the abyss
where once cherished my being.
They drink and dance, and gamble away all my life.
They joke and sing, and rob me of all my hope.

I still check the cave in my mouth,
day after day.
Not in hope of arrival of spring, no,
but in helplessness of my desperate desire.
In temptation to split open a vessel,
and watch all the nothingness,
flow out of my mouth into the inviting sink.
In temptation to ravage the last barrier into pieces
and feel all my creations drain out of my body.

In temptation to see the corpse of my soul
sail away with the tides of my untiring blood.

--to be free.

The soft sound of your beating heart
can soften even the biggest storms inside me.
The gentle sound of your voice
lulls me into a sense of hope and wonder
that maybe this world isn't always so bad.

The warm embrace of a friends arms
bringing back to a sense of reality
where I am not lost to the monsters inside my head,
but am someone much stronger,
able to defend the broken parts.

The serenity of peaceful silence,
where you are just there and nothing more
compliments my sullen tears,
building up a strength I never knew I had
Until I will no-longer fall prey to the demons of the past.

a face of stone and bloodred eyes
he is not dumb, he is not wise
a vampire, dressed in black attire
ruler of the world, lobby boss, a rock

a fierce narcissist being hurt
even by your friendliest words
knife-like fingernails, teeth spiky
he slits you up, devours your heart

cannibal lecter style for real
he just does not know how to feel
psychopathic soul, a tall goon
ruling from a bone-made throne

you can not make a deal with him:
he's like a bank and always wins
your family is dead my friend
today is your turn: you will burn

barbeque-images, intestines
human-scented steak with bloodshakes
festival of gore, you creature
since you are the vampire's feature

humans come, humans go, you know?
a vampire does not bother
he will tear your body apart
to carve a poem into your flesh