I stand in the middle of the room
My classmates are commanded to listen to me
I am the 14th person to present and so far, everyone has done a good job

I stand in the middle of the room
I begin to saw the name of my project
“My Poem”
I cannot remember what it was about
I do remember, what I felt

I stand in the room,
Hoping that everyone feels what I felt when I was writing it
I felt excited, my stomach had ‘butterflies’ I think
I felt the heat in my heart and the cold on my shoulders.
I felt the tingles all over my body, and the air escaping me

I stood in the middle of the room
I stand in the middle of the room
I was in the middle of the room and said
“My poem”
I heard a chuckle.

I ignored it because the ‘in love’ heart in my chest was more excited than It should have been
I continues and my voice began to play tricks on me
And the r’s rolled and the words were suddenly in another language
My mind still ignored it and continues
Because I felt I could write, and read this and everyone could love it

I stood in the middle of the room,
I waited for the, applause, the smiles, the congrats, or even a simple ‘good job’ like everyone else
Instead…
My teacher said, work on pronunciation. She said it again. Pro-noun-ci-a-tion
Ok. ‘Work on grammar.’ ‘Work on sentence structure’
“Work on being American” the chuckle said
Or the person who chuckled?

It didn’t mean much, you know
I loved writing so much that it did not matter
I would be a writer, I would continue to
STAND in the middle of the room and share my talent
And when I did, he chuckled
She chuckled, I was Mexican

Not a writer. Writers can’t be Mexican
Unless you write in Spanish and in Mexico
But I was too American for that at this point…

SO the next time I wrote I was ashamed,
Maybe if someone else wrote my writing?
But it didn’t matter,
When the teacher began reading,
The chuckle reminded the class it was the ‘Mexican’ who wrote it

“Mi nina” My mom would say
She reminded me that no only was I Mexican
I was a woman,
Only men thrive in this world
I believed it
And that is why my name is ‘The Voice’
Not my actually name,
Disclosure: I accept criticism on how to better my writing
NOT on what to write or on my background

And if you are to love,
Love as the moon loves.
It doesn't steal the night,
It only unveils the beauty of the dark.

And if you are to love,
Love as the rain loves.
It doesn't wet the bodies,
It only washes the sad dirt of the souls.

And if you are to love,
Love as the wind loves.
It doesn't drift away,
It only cleanse you to the core by invading through each pore.

And if you are to love,
Love as the sun loves.
It doesn't radiates heat,
It only pours its warmth on you to enlighten your way.

And if you are to love,
Love as the star loves.
It doesn't delightfully twinkles,
It only reminds you that not even death can separate two hearts.

And so forth,
if you are to love
Love as the whole universe
& not just a part of it.

I have this dream
In my mind,
That I will leave
This town with the one.

We will head west,
We will stop everywhere
And anywhere.
Take our time.

Live.

We will spend hours
In endless flower beds
In mossy forests
In crystal clear waters

We will drive and
Listen to every type
Of song,
New and known.

Yes, there will be arguments.
Nothing is perfection,
But I believe we will come close.

As the wind rushes
through our hair
We will be free,
And full of forgiveness.

We will visit new towns,
Make legendary memories.
Watch the lights of skyscrapers
As one by one, they go out.

Visit vintage diners
On the side of the road,
Learn everything
about each other.

For wanderlust has filled me,
And I dream
That we will be nomads
One day.

There are oceans,
In which the waves
Pull me in.
In them I see life,
Glowing,
Growing,
Rippling.
Sea creatures live
Inside the details
The deep crevices
Of blue and green speckles.
They breathe life into me
As I drown in the tide.
In your eyes I see my reflection.
I see
Indescribable love
As vast as the ocean they resemble.

for Tascha

deep in the pond of unhappy, swimming,
drowning the next contemporaneous
depression thought quickly swallowed,
desperation in quick glances everywhere,
dawn is no consolation but just another
daily drawing tighter of twine cutting
disillusionment


dear god, commences every thought,
delayed answers have yet to arrive,
**** the deity's non-responsivness,
dare not say out loud lest,
deserved fates be worse, be realized,
didn't know? how can that be?
disguiser par excellent, I am the original
deceiver

But I never think about

death or dying, for that would be
defeat finale, a statute to, a status of none, a
destiny some wick spark, still insists can be
deferred

differed always,
diffidently, but grasping yet at the
double entendre that is my
dark vision of a future already past

May 2015

I sit alone
In this dark cold room
Listening through the wall
Of your angry screams

I don't know why I keep doing wrong
I don't know why I can't control myself
I don't know why you always scream at me

You wonder why
I've become so numb
You wonder why
My silence is deafening
You wonder why
I'm a soulless cold monster

In my bed
I just can't seem to rest
Screaming silently
At all this violence

I don't know what I am
I don't know what I did so wrong
I don't know what to do when you scream at me again and again

You wonder why
I've become so numb
You wonder why
My silence is deafening
You wonder why
I'm a soulless cold monster

In my room
Wishing I could punch the wall
Wishing I could just runaway
From all this pain and misery

I don't know how I stopped fighting
I don't know how you keep killing me
I don't know how I got this way

You wonder why
I'm so empty
You wonder why
My silence is screaming
You wonder why
I'm this soulless cold monster

This soulless cold monster
You wonder why I'm soulless
You wonder why I'm so cold
(It's all your fault.)