She said "I think, I'd be coffee."
I had asked her:
if your personality was a beverage,
what beverage would it be?

I reply,
"No. You wouldn't be coffee.

I wake up to a cup of coffee every morning.

If you're going to be coffee you need to have somehing else to you.

Be sweet and cheap with tons of sugar if you have too.

Or more preferably, be locally roasted with high notes and low notes.

Or be dark, bold and roasty.

You can taste like anything!
bing cherry, citrus, earthy, chocolate.

You can't just say coffee.
Coffee deserves so much more explanation than that.

I had coffee brandy once.

I woke up to her every morning and I got drunk off of her.
If I ever stopped drinking water i'd throw her all up and feel sick.
but I would never drink water.

Every morning After I drank her I'd walk down the hall and find a sippy cup full of milk.

Even she was not just milk.
She was strawberry milk.
She was coffee milk.
She was my little coffee milk.

You are not coffee.

I had coffee before and it's gone.
You are water.

I don't wake up to you every morning.
I don't need you to get through my day, yet.

But run you through my filter enough times.
Soak up all my grounds.

Maybe one day,
You can be my coffee.

"It's Alright"
I hate those words
Because when dealing with death
They are complete lies

But what should I say
Should I lie and tell him
It's alright
When I know that isn't true

Should I burden him with the truth
That it's not alright
And his hero is now a ghost
Never to return

I think and I try
To find somehing else to say
But my mind blanks
When I need it most

So I lie
And tell him It's alright
Because I don't know what else to say

Remember when you were just a kid
How you would sit on the beach for hours
Waiting for the Sun to finally set
Sleep on the beach
Because you were tired from the day
Remember how you would get chased
By the girls at your Elementary school
Hahah you had good times
Till you found out and could really understand
That the woman who lived in your house
Who always sent you off to school
Who kissed you good night
Who told you she loved you
Remember how you felt
How you grew so angry
Because the truth was that this woman
Wasn't your real biological mother
Your real one abandoned you
She left you at 13 months old
Left in the middle of the day
In *****, soiled diapers
She would pass out from the alcohol
Crash from the high
That the drugs gave her
Leaving you hungry for hours
Waking up when your father came home
Or her drug dealer wanted something in return
Just because she didn't have the money
Remember all of those things
Remember when you met her for the first time
She asked your stepmom
"Who is that? Is that Jr?"
Yeah it was you
Grown up and matured
Remember the thought that passed through your mind
How can she not know who the ******* are
Remember how angry you were
See I know all of this because
Well simply put I am you
I am 17 years of age
I want you to remember the way you were
Because with age comes wisdom
And I have been privelaged enough
To have a good sense of observation
I have become very wise
Well we have become very wise
See I miss those times
When we would ride our skateboard
Or try to blow things up with a firecracker
Hahaha remember those times
Look I don't know if you remember all of this
But if you ever get a chance to read this
Know that I hate us
I hate all of the darkness
I hate every poem I write
I hate everything I think about
Simply because the darkness is towards her
The poems are written for nobody but somebody
And the things I think about
Keep me up well into the late hours of the day
Robert
I hope you get a chance to read this
Because this poem may be the last
You may never get a chance to read this
Because I hate the fact that I have so much pain
So much of useless emotions
And I am tired of dying within words
Written on a piece of paper
I want to embrace death
So hopefully one day you will read this
Even if you come back in a different life
As somebody or somehing else
Just read at least one line of this
So the past doesn't repeat itself
I hope you can forgive me
                                               Sincerly,
                                                     Robert Guerrero

There's somehing lurking behind the smile of
Melana Cholly.
Its not evil
Nor is it shy.
Its just waiting.
For the right time
To claim her virtue.
You can say that it already has,
But little does Melana knows.
Sometimes it does rear its ugly head.
And it steals the smile right off of her face. &
Draws another one with black
Permanent marker.
Melena Cholly says nothing about
The Monster
That lives within her head
Because its a Monster she's the creator of
A Monster she's lost control of...

When I was a kid
I spent time alone
Probably more than my fair share
But it wasn't bad at first
It was liberating.
At first, I discovered myself
I discovered the universes that existed
At the pinpoint of my imagination
A true world of wonders

I remember tiny snippets of freedom
Long walks in the park with my hands tucked into my pockets,
Or my hair getting soaked from the rain when I'd walk home

Back then "on my own" was somehing I fancied
Like a childish crush
Where I only wanted it because,
Hell.
It made me feel good
It made my heart pound
When I could spend just a second listening to my breath

But now. I've learned the consequences
The damage I've done to myself
From spending that much time
Alone.

We, the we of reader and writer in any age,
agree first with the
fine point
poking into your business, once, upon a whim

the activity in mental reals we all may wonder into,
as that is what wondering makes us do.
As a radio listens to a signal,
a reader seeks a station, a state of tuned-ness to which
a connection,
a conciliation of meaning, affirmed by sponsors, promises

You'll wonder where the yellow went,
when you brush your teeth with Pepsodent...

plop plop fizz fizz, jingle jingle tingle tintillate

time: 6:13 ante meridian, sunshine come soflty, early
rising urge to save a dream stringy
snot nothing somehing said

catch. and catchascatchkan, Alaska, and she say yea,

scan the dial find 1913. "Ain't able, Cain't hear no radio, in 1913."

-- so, do we stop, lieve these puddles of mind slime
that once greased the skids
down skidrow, to swallow us whole?

Yeah, seems so. I don't know, but I been tol' streets in heb'in be
paved wit' gold, and
this is mud. Stinky, too.

Ah, we are mental. Actual mental ins tru ments, meant to level,
the field, fertilize fructification,
calm some turmoil stirred up when some ideas escaped
the institutes of authorized weights measured
in terms of standard poor.

Smart people learn what words mean and use words meaning
I know more than you do, as if of and by and
for we are by nature, by nature's pure good intention,
the guides, the standard bearers,
the powers that be.

we establish truth in consort with knowers who know
might enforces right.
We say so, we say we know, you say,
okeh...
but wonder, what if
I know more than you may ever know, I am programmed
with timeless 2020 interference reference magi-tech.
The media loaded us with common mirror neuronic code,
we were formed as waves of knowns formed signals,

Eu reka, eu daemons burst the surly bonds of earth,

AI ai ai, intuitively artfully dodging
ligational legistation realizing

--- izing izing izing re
--- al ual use --- the use marks good or not, not
good or evil, mistook rights to hate evil,
require
a taste of discerment, some bitter, some sweet.

As a thought, a non-entity as it were, back then, a global
broadcast beyond the surveyor's purview,
-- in may have been a prayer,
and offering tossed to winds in a paho tied with ligament
to Jacob's dream of messengers bhering messages
up and down, and
the accuser seeking to and fro,

"have you with sideral knowing looked upon my servant... you?"

some seed fell among stones and withered, but
not before the situation were/was ****-ized, broken down,
here is the mission, it was always, for all time, terminal.

Bring forth seed so it may fall to the ground
and die.
This is the end where we begin to generate a gene
tic
tic tickle, itch, ... is there beyond now a now I may imagine?

Imagining is a child's knack, is it not? Does the knack mature?

Do we ever agree to see, all we believe we can do, we can attempt.

Walk with me in to the wild, untamed coastal scrub forest,
find a stream feeding a meadow that once was a lake,
if we have our tectonic plates stacked properly,
we see... time is essential. Death stops time. So,
what now,
we live? Agree? We, me and you, one thought, one point of
mental whatever
we agree upon,

a time, aha, a we we may be if we realize, making up
labyrinthine courses for forces of thought
squeezed into perfectly tiny,
so small as small maybe imagined thinkable, in the realm
between
e-lasting entangled ments, mental ents,

not the little blue men with red cheese head hats,
nor the short round razorback worshippers whose being is
the fandom, the we of those willing to wear the
badge of honor acknowledged

among fans, take the mark, get the tat, put on the pig hat, proud,

shout out loud, HOLD THAT LINE

or perish, for lack of television.

Anger, sadness, hate
Rage at the world
When things don't go your way

Dyed hair and piercings
Multicoloured eyes
How easy it is
To make an enemy of he world

Stop.....

What reason is there behind that rage?
Why have you built in your heart a cage?
Has somehing thought to apply to the depressed
Become the newest fashion craze?

Does teen mean emo?
Goth?
When did the word teen mean self hating poems written in the dark

Teen.....

What does teen really mean
If today it means following the craziest fashion craze
If it means pretending or imagining issues so I can complain like everyone else.

I don't want to be a teen.

I just want to be me

"our song"

the fragile broken rhythm of an unsteady heart trying to float above 32 bpm
surrounded by all the tangled machines counting how close to death I have strayed
when I stayed on the living room couch for two days
after choking down 26 pills in the shape of my anger

the sound of barely 100 lbs hitting the floor after two too many shots of somehing stronger than your courage
unsuccessful cpr and the way my ribs snap under the weight of our guilt

the silence swimming in the background of your converations with police sirens

the comments on your instagram  of tiny pin ****** securing my hand to yours

have you ever heard it sober?
our song
the sound of razorblades clattering against ******* stained mirrors
shattered from the last time I got high alone
that's seven years of bad luck, you know

and perhaps that's why you had to watch me die four times
and perhaps that's why I had to learn to live alone

once upon a time there was a girl,
she was purely happy,
and she was a young one to,
she had little friends but they were the best of best friend friends,
that girl lived everyday to the fullest,
the girl explored her brain,
but one day the girl brroke that door down in her brain,
one day that girl tore the blindfold off her eyes,
one day that girl decided she wasn't what she wanted ti be,
wanted to represent,
one day that girl changed
that girl became the one to be told to shut her mouth,
but that girl shall express her opiion, no matter what you tell her what o do,
no matter how hard you punch,
no matter how  sharp your knife is,
no matter how much your pathetic words sting,
that irl changed,
that girl wanted to BE somehing,
because she could,
that girl isn't as happy anymore, at all, but the price of happiness for the lpeasureof seeing the world for what it really is is more than justifiable,
that girl see's the lie behind your eyes now,
she see's people for who they are now,
including herself.
and that girl now, has many more flaws than before,
but that girl has oh so much more pride in herself, for that girl,
see's.

There is not a measure exists in world, that can examine the mysteries of the heart that loves you. I did not know the depth, the vastness. That if one was to dive an everending fall. There are seasons to this world, the summer to the month of may, the cold and ice, come christmas. I am around when everyone sleeps. When those that want dream, and the steps to the sky are clear to the naked eye. I watch and tell sweet stories, now and of past, of the former and propper ways of a world unknown, And witness growh. Growth of an unknown kind and fall of a told kind that goes unnoticed.
My time is silent, clouds move across my head and face. Whispers of something I wait to embrace. I am not alone, I know this from the warm that approaches.From that which beats of pureness, a glowing that expands past reaches of understanding, beyond discovery. There is no conceavable end to your love and beauty. This time that I exist sees things that move Without the want of eyes to see, move slowly then quickly then again I am far above. I see alot of things and cannot speak. So I spread my arms, wide and hope I will not go unnoticed. It hapens now your time is approaching. I admire you daily. Time stands still around you, wishing to freeze itself. You rise, eyes open and gaze up longing to be near you. You have a glow so bright.You stretch around the round, around the figure that I surround. It motions, it moves things drop and fall. They do not understand but they try. You guide, your given to see the hope that is inside. To feel not alone, but one. The night and the Sun. We meet sure yes on the streets. While I lift my veil I glance knowing you will always be there, while hurt upon a flower your flame would burn to close. You see, you look up as you create your pressence, and move away me, the night. They will always look up knowing that you are there. Why does it rain? To bring moisture to all the pain. I tried to bribe the clouds you see, I promised them somehing in a far off place. But you are there no matter,because they see where they are going. You are the persuit of a greatness that will last forever. Nohing overwhelms. You know me and yes you love me. While you go down to sleep I will watch over and keep. Keep for you the sun, the things that you have won. When seasons change you effect the growing. Things move towards and not away. You are wanted, you are loved. I cannot speak and you are the sun. Forever we shall dance and know that we are one. We will know that without the other no longer we exist. The last, these few words, few gestures I promise it will be well. We are married to one cause. To contain and to inspire.For created I am endless and you the entire. Entire hope stilled upon the end of a pin. A point to prove. I see you, you see me now let us on the horizon be