she wants to make babies with sunshine and call them buttercup or maybe even [ol' sunny] boy. her mind is filled with flowers and fantasies of {forgetme} not's that make her half naive without a chance of bail.

she pulls wings off of lady[bug]s and collects them in mason jars made of innocence and g[****] flavored caprisun's. without her faithful pen, she is nothing.

she prays to every deity that man has ever created and every one that will be. she wants to create her own but knows s[he] doesn't have enough faith. her every step is shadowed by something darker than her fairytale brain knows exists.

she dreams of prince charming and wakes up with[out] a thousand smiles and no [less] doubt. her heart is made up of yellow bandanas and sun babies all wrinkly from heat. she wraps a bracelet around her left wrist to remind her that there is [no] hope for the fallen.

Yo no paro hasta que todos mueran
Los ultimos que cuedan
Del satanas tienen que murir
Todos esos malvados tienen que sufrir
El machete, con un balazo en el cachete
Los mando pa su muerte la tumba
Los ahogo con una funda en silencio
Se mueren despacio dia tras dia cayendo
Estos cobardes les buelo la mazeta
Como el rey azteca, les saco el corazon
Por ser culo mamon, el pendejo cabron
Soy un maestro chingon, estes mi canton
Para siempre sera, hoy y manana lo veras
Te lo puedo comprovar no soy esclavo
Pero si un bago, so ponte a un lado
Porque estas bien lejos del clavo
Hechate para tras porque te dejo enterrado
Por dejabo, ah carrajo eres un pinchi chango
Vete a comer un mango, pinchi tango caprisun, you better run and go have some fun, before I lay your *** out with this laser gun, leave you fast asleep, you should listen to your peeps, porfavor hasme el favor
Cuitate la a chingada, ya me encabronastes
Mi mente me corruptistes y borastes
Mucha intelligencia que cargaba guardada
Pero te voy a lanzar con la plebada
Lista y armada, para una buena chingisa
Te den un buen banio, y buena vaniada

there was a time when tripping on asphalt
rewarded you a kiss to the broken skin,
a bandaid & a warm hug. the air
often smelled like rain & cut grass
after lunch in the cafeteria

and i always wore
a helmet and knee pads when
i went biking with dad. i felt funny
up until the moment i’d
squeezed my brake too hard
and fallen off my bike.

a thrilling game tag in the front yard under
orange skies of august was
soon quenched by a cold sip of caprisun.
dad sat on a lawn chair
grilling only what could be hot dogs,
meat patties, and bell peppers that i told him i
never really liked eating.

indigo blue only meant one thing:
a long day in the pool
clad in our arm floaties and
goggles and diving into the blue
like we would be doing this
forever & ever.

there was a time when i’d sit
on the pavement
wearing my ballerina sneakers,
watching how kids looked like ants
as they climbed onto the playground,
throwing woodchips at one another.

eating a bucketload of candy
was easier than eating dinner.
when the shadows grew at night
i’d leave the light on for too long
but watching superheroes
over a tub of ice cream was just the cure.
we’d build pillow forts &
take naps in them.

there was a time when the colors
were clear & bright, when movies
made everything feel like magic
and mom’s face was wrinkleless
and dad could stand in the garden for hours
and my brother was busy studying
and i only knew
summer & pillow forts