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I found my grandmother the night she died
The room filled with mourning tears
My mother slapped me
because I hadn't cried in two days
At 18 how do you emotionally process a body that once held a life?

Disconnected from my thoughts
I felt neither pain nor love nor loss
How could I say that, without feeling defective
but I couldn't get past that shell with empty eyes
that stared at me until I noticed they weren't smiling

When the body turned to flesh
she was gone and I was lost
in those empty eyes that seemed to
hold a universe of nothing
and if I stared too long I'd disappear in that void
where her light used to shine

**

Too soon, I held my mother's hand as she passed
and watched the life leech out of her skin
The eyes were the last part of her to fade
I stared at her
Willing with all that I am that they would
spark and reignite the fire of who she was
But her skin ran cold the second the light ceased
So cold, yet so very soft.

Two days, and a blended family to hold up
Even with makeup, dressed to the nines
It didn't feel less... wrong
She was beautiful, but she wasn't my mother

I couldn't escape the knowledge
of invisible sutures
As I held her face and fixed her hair
I cursed those television shows I once watched with her
The ones that taught us how things worked
The ones that burned the knowledge of
the sutures into my memory
a memory I couldn't escape

Four days and two shoulders heavy with tears
Too busy with paperwork and wishes
to bleed tears of my own
Thankful for things to do
So I wouldn't get lost in her empty eyes
that stared at me whenever I closed my own

I sit here, grown, wondering how to
emotionally process a body that once held a life?
Praying that she will slap me for not being able to cry
Just so I could feel her
101118
346w
I miss you Mami
Audio file:
https://drive.google.com/file/d/1PZOHeLKJCs3Bu5CUYWTQJI6-JOiZp_4c/view?usp=drivesdk
And though we've all commonly been caressed by oppressive distress,
We're granted the opportunity
To Repossess
Our spirituality.

These are the rules that reign our domain.
i remember the day he asked me
"Yo, Boogz, you wanna run a session",
What the fuck was he thinking?
shit, I'll run it on a neurotic progression
Of this lyrical obsession,
Forget your indiscretion,
I'll leave your head knotting in impression
Have you second-guessing the oppression of this "session",
And embedded with my confessions,
No order or succession,
Personal expression is not my profession, but I think im getting clear to you

If you want meaning out of this,
Good luck I'm gonna need a C-section,
See, its all words strung together only identifiable by the person who wrote 'em,
Any questions?

Good, cuz i have one for you.
Have you ever seen a person with a soul glimmering gold
Who strolled down the wrong road?
A person who stowed such a load of mold
That he couldn't unfold,
And the end result was to implode?

Well I've met a lot of them. Including me.
In fact this room is full of them.
But we're not outcasts
unless we place that label on our skin,
There's too many good intentions fighting to win,
But its almost like we have this evil twin,
This Mr. Hyde that hides within,
It's actually a good thing the shell is thin,
And since we all share this downfall,
It doesn't matter what shade our skin is... we're kin.
Our tears run from eyes in the same que.
We've all been beat down,
Felt defeated,
Needed
To cry
But we all grow bolder,
Become generals,
And in order to be a general - first you gotta be a soldier.

I commend all men who ascend to the end,
Whose worlds of pretend
Transcended through the bends,
Twists, and all kinds of mends, to meet.

The ones who make are examples,
That we don't have to die.

The journey of a million tears,
Starts with that first lump in your throat.
It's only a speed bump.
You can get over it.
Your addiction.
Numb is my word for today
My cheeks, my tongue
My lips
Everything in my mouth
just feels numb
An old filling chipped my tooth :(
Poetic T Oct 6
Your words are cheesy
        Like an unclean foreskin

Every syllable you tug on
        Is like cheese.

You need to clean up
            Your stiffness
And write cleanly...
Theshygirl Oct 5
Your words,
oh your sweet and wonderful words
your beautiful and perfect words
Your terrible, horrible, misleading words.
Your words
that convinced me
that you care
that you understand
that you maybe even love me.
I was too naive before,
to see the truth.
Your truth
is full of lies
and deceit.
And how terrible
it was for me.
Believing in you
and your misleading words.
If only I had seen through them
before I had fallen so deep
to believe
your blatantly cruel and misleading words.
Maybe then
I could have stopped
the pain and suffering I felt
when you finally walked away
leaving your misleading words
to haunt me.
JermBoogz Oct 3
Bartender,
I ask for a full glass of the elixir I asked you for before.
Something inside me cries, more then it did before.
Or ever actually
Weeks, and days, turn to hours, minutes, seconds, but still ripple of moments.
Moments that find me back here lusting for the poison that becoming, so becoming.
Maybe im here cause my father craved this chair.
Maybe im here cause he’s seeing my day become D-day, and not just today but everyday, all day and probably tomorrow too.
13 years old, crying for help,
a little boy appeared at his meadow of wisdom,
and all he says is  “have a drink with me”
So I drink, I drink some more, and I drink enough that now the foot of my bed
has become this wooden armrest where I meet a new neighbor by the hour,
My bed pillows have become this poison,
the only feeling that lays my head to rest, battles caged and blurred in routine, battles with the child inside me,
the man now, and everything in-between.
Poetic T Sep 30
A word can save
another day
           for someone to see the
brightest side of the darkness.

For within syllables
                      are meanings
that unconsciously re-ravel
              that last thread.

And they awake to another
                                  day.
not realising that single word
  yesterday brightened there day.
Smoke Scribe Sep 29
I am the smoke of return and rest,
sky inscribing,
knowing your precise needs and the
screams and the years unfair taken,
screened through five perceptions

I am the word weaver
setting the loom for each peculiar requisition,
a havened place of restoration
as best I can,
for this weaving my eye’s recollections
perfect,
no imagination needed


imagine that
de Negre Sep 26
if time knew no name
                                   i might be happy
for every time we call
                                   i always must say
(through the power lines)
                                   goodbye in twenty
with our sour looks,
                                   we accept goodbye

not that we want to
                                   but we must leave- with
inherent certain-
                                   ty, we know we’ll talk
again- one day soon,
                                   maybe far
but my words will
                                   reach your tired ears;

their echoes will bounce
                                   cave wall to cave wall
singing their song
                                   each time they connect-
word- syllable- tone;
                                   “goodbye in twenty”
a bee with its prick
                                   a wasp and its bite.

lo siento mi
                                   vida, quienes
ojos son el cielo,
                                    son la mar.
ode to my past lover (again) just thought i might
Thoughts descend
in neon whites of infinity
to hit the keyboard as an avalanche of words
to leave thumb-prints of ingenuity.

Words become cadaverous,
impotent to birth them.
They leave stillborns
with pale yellow shadows!

An eerie pain numbs my senses.
I suffocate.
O, had I become the unuttered word!
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