Everything you own is covered in blood.
     They arrive on moments composed of crumpled paper, tired and degraded by the heat and pressure of God's palm, left in Her pocket too long. ******* and apathetic inaction meet in the center of the sheet where your pelvis, your s e x rests while you sleep and lie and lie and sleep and sleep and lie. A Rorschach blot card where you see the death of dignity. Mother, Roommate, and Tinder Dates that you never bring home see everything that they had hoped you weren't.

     Cochina. Pig, ******* pig.

     And I can't read that last verse out loud. That tells you everything you need to know.

Everything you own is covered in blood.
     You bleed when you don't feel enough, or when what you feel isn't what you ought to feel--silly ******* scholarship with the brains and the championed cheek bones (if you just lost the weight, she says to herself sometimes, and her friends don't agree, but there is a deafening lack of disagreement that takes the room).

     Bold girl who never made suicide jokes because she was so so so good at this game called self love until she wasn't. Until she ran out of bad ***** juice. Until she felt the weight of it, the world.

     And so you choose to feel the bite of an exacto knife.

Reliable, that.
Pleasurable, that.
Guilty, guilty pleasure.
Shameful pleasure.

     We were supposed to be grown up, glowed up. Above this.

                                                  **** this.

     When did it become so hard to love yourself?

The Devil came to me
during the final merengue,
in the ***** shadows of the night,
While I’d been dancing with a man
whose face I did not know,
his eyes were the color
of his hair, his hair
the color of his skin,
he blended into the
white walls the way Mole seeps
into chicken. He looked hungry
like every other man I had
ever seen before,
but Madre did he know,
how to make me spin. Spun me so fast
I pierced holes into the sky,
the Sun cooked red hot inside
he let off steam, cursing the ***** cochina
for her hoofed feet and bouncing
pig tail hair. When I tried for innocence
the sun only saw white
anger when I tried to apologize,
the Devil tsked and shook his head,  
shoved his fingers into my mouth,
my tongue became an ember
my words turned into clouds.
Oh Dios, el Sol fue muy enojado,
his stars burnt brighter than ever,
reflected el Diablo’s brilliant grin
his triumph was he always got
exactly what he wanted. My chest
grew tight with fear, knowing what
I’d done. With a smile,
the ***** dance,
that the Devil had given. Me
quiero nada más, I cried.  
But he just laughed instead, and picked up
greater speed. With every spin, my world
grew hot, flames kissed my neck and feet,
“Mami,” he said, “we’re not through.”
Grabbing onto my hips to throw me
around la Lun’, beating her
silver skin, the craters came
to represent his twisted lullaby  
cooing Ella recordará y tu tambien,
The night belonged to him.

te deseo, aun cuando no debo. extraño tu piel, aplastado con movimiento. llantas de motos y carros, pies descalzos que corren por cada esquina, bocas rellenas de dulces. extraño tu aliento, no me digas “cochina.” la mayoría de la gente se quejan de esta parte, pero a mi, no me importa. extraño tu alma, tu forma de amar, tu calidez; extraño tu “holá” que me saluda cada mañana, chupa chups guindados, esperando manos adolescentes que agarran los dulces.

dos niñas pelean por la ultima bolsa, 30 rupees para un arcoíris de azúcar. un hombre chaparrito, quien cocina momos desde la madrugada. sin duda me saluda con una risa. extraño tu ruido, nunca ha podido aguantar paz completo. te deseo, casi siempre, y anhelo los paseos cuando el cielo se convierte en un pintura de arte sentimental. ese arte pintado y salpicado de color anaranjados, morados, derritiendo, y fusionando en una emoción que no tengo palabras como explicar. no puedo olvidarme de ti. sueño contigo muchas veces, caminando en los techos de la casas donde estás se convierten en alfombras para dar nuestros paseos. mirando a las estrellas y me mandan un mensaje celestial––pero que? no se. la lluvia me recuerde de ti, y el color gris, mas que todo, nubes nubladas, arvores altas y oscuras.

te encuentro cada noche, y ya lo se... sos una memoria ahora. pero dejame sentirte una vez mas, en el caso que no regreso otra vez.
-c.alejandra