Donald Trump's presidency
Is one of the greatest achievements in art I have ever experienced
And Trump is a true artist
He takes words from the page
Like corruption, disenfranchisement, xenophobia
And brings them to life
Highlighting fear and paranoia so clearly
Contrasting the blacks and whites
Emphasizing anger
While reminding us we're mere infants
In the digital age
And warning us of our seniority
And capitalism's

We all like to think life has meaning
Until we hit an animal with our car
Then that's just the way things are
And I'm staring at an absurdist painting
Of a child driving a car
Through a herd of sheep
As I watch a heist film
Where the robbers turn their guns over
To the mentally unstable guy in the group

Trump is a national artist
Placing riots on the map
And drawing infernos on the Internet
His art forces an opinion
Everybody has something to say about him
And it's all true
Even the pages he ripped from his own cabinet
Tried to villainize him in their script
But he was already an anti-hero
The humor is that the mud slung onto him
Is dirt kicked up from his own tires
I guess if you surround yourself with hateful people
You're surrounding yourself with people who probably hate you

Trump's art is deeply conflicting
He reminds me of the people who want me to live in shame
Yet he embodies the individuality that separates me from that shame
His insecurities remind me of myself
High school is the White House in the eyes of a kid
And I had secrets I wanted to share
But felt I couldn't
I learned things
That changed my entire perspective
And didn't think people would understand
Afraid of being assaulted for my indiscretions
I hid behind a boisterous personality
And a nonchalant attitude
Trump's art evokes sympathy and hatred that feels so strong
When he holds a mirror defining our worst qualities
To a man viscerally opposed to his own reflection
The confliction of emotions
Is the hallmark of great art

We are all artists
The lines we write or the strokes we brush
Are in our actions
And Trump's canvas displays
A life filled with accomplishment
Inspiring me to live my own life
But I still wake up in cold sweats
From the American dream
That anybody can be president

You cannot ban
Demonize
Villainize
A person
Or idea
Just because
You're scared of it.

People are scared
Of a whole lot
Of stupid things.

Some people are afraid
Of falling in love.
Others are afraid
Of commitment
And knowledge
And change.

I am afraid,
For example,
Of the dark
And of the unknown.

That might have been redundant.

But I like plans.
And back up plans.
And back up plans for my back up plans.
My constant questioning and curiosity
Has turned into a vicious cycle of
"What if"
And doubting myself
And everyone I know.

I have recently become reacquainted
With someone I have never doubted,
And I still have yet to doubt him.
I hope that day never happens.

It's strange,
The only bad feelings I have
Are if I have offended him
Or are caused by my own trauma.

I'm not trying to say he's perfect,
Because no one is perfect,
But that's what makes it great.

Because you can see a flaw in someone
And normally greatly dislike it,
But it's not so bad
In this one person.

Love is not
Being blind to flaws.
That's being a liar.

Love is seeing flaws
And loving because of them when things are good,
And loving even though they're there when things are bad.

But humans are afraid
Of the unknown.
So we're afraid of bright happy things
And acceptance
And kindness
And compassion
And empathy that goes so very far.

We're afraid to help others,
And our fear turns to hate
And it's disgusting.

So push me with your lies
And cold behaviors.
Call me cold,
Call me a *****
For not chasing you
Like the runaway you want to be.

But you cannot chase people
Who do not want to stay,
And you, darling dear, never had any intention of staying.

My fear that no one intends to stay,
Though rational,
Cannot continue to be.

So continue running from people who only wanted to help,
Continue hurting people who did nothing,
Continue fighting due to fear,
And continue killing because you're afraid.

I will continue to be here,
On my adventure that is life,
With those who intend
To tag along and stay along.

It's funny,
Because I have gypsy blood in my veins,
I do not fear anything at all,
(Or I'm not supposed to)
Except being stuck in the wrong place
For a little too long.

I’ll take a step back, I’ll say goodbye.
I’ll put on a smile, even though all I want to do is cry.

I want you to be happy, no matter what that means.
I prioritize your happiness and well-being over my own, it seems.

But that’s what love is: being selflessly devoted.
I’ll gladly continue to sink as long as you’re the one who has floated.

After everything you’ve endured, you don’t need any more stress.
So, I can walk away—I just need to get this off my chest.

You are the most incredible person I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.
That’s why I don’t give a **** that my heart is the one taking the beating.

If she is the one, your person, your soulmate,
Why was she in your life for so long before she realized? In my opinion, she’s too late.

Yeah, maybe that’s selfish thinking, to bring up our instantaneous connection.
But you’ve known her for how long, and she’s just now mentioning how she’s always craved your attention?

Maybe I’m bold, maybe I’m just insane.
But from day one of meeting you, there’s no way I could have kept that a secret; you truly consume my entire brain.

If I were her, I would’ve blurted out that I loved you from the moment we met.
So why, after all this time, does she want you to know? It’s like she doesn’t want you to forget.

I don’t know her; I won’t villainize her.
I’m sure she’s a lovely girl. But, sorry-not-sorry, she won’t give you the world.

Like I will, if you’ll let me. It just honestly doesn’t make sense.
How could she let you live life alone when you’ve been begging to be seen?

I see you, John. I’ve seen you since the moment we met.
I don’t want to give up on us—not ever, not just yet.

You’re telling me she could have had you this entire time,
Yet just recently she let you know that you’ve “always been on her mind.”

I’m not calling her a liar—it’s not hard to see why that could be the case.
But I’m just worried she is playing a silly game of chase.

Whereas I am playing the long game; I’m not going anywhere.
I want your love, your heart—****, I want your last name.

Maybe I’m the one who is delusional, or ridiculous, or crazy.
Honestly, I can’t help it; ever since I’ve met you, everything in my life has been a little hazy.

The only real clarity I’ve been able to see is you.
While everything else is dark and hopeless, the only thing keeping me going is how my feelings are true.

I’ve never felt this way, John. There are no words to describe how I feel.
Saying “I love you” doesn’t come close to expressing how this has to be the real deal.

The love poets write about, the kind people die for.
I swear to God, these feelings shake me down to my core.

I BURN for you, in every ******* imaginable way.
You are always in my head and heart, every second of every day.

I want you to know you are so loved, whether it’s me you pick or not.
I’m constantly trying to figure out if I should give up or continue shooting my shot.

You see, I don’t want to make this harder on you; you don’t deserve to feel torn.
I just want to fight for this, fight for you, fight for us—because the love I feel we’d have is all I’ve ever wanted since I was born.

My body literally shakes just thinking about you.
My emotions are so strong, I genuinely don’t know what else to do.

This is something special, something truly unique.
A love I know you and I have always tried to seek.

We could have the world’s sweetest love story, two people completely obsessed with each other.
But to get there, we both have to endure this current purgatory.

I know you don’t want to hurt anyone, and if I have to I’ll take one for the team.
Because, truly, I’d rather be the one to die than have any more shots taken to your self-esteem.

You are beautiful and wonderful—what the world needs more of.
I have no problem expressing that you’re the one that I love.

If she feels this way too, then I won’t be able to assist.
But honestly, I can’t see that happening—how did she not know she loved you from the moment she realized you exist?

Because that’s what happened to me. And yeah, I wear my heart on my sleeve.
Maybe that’s my problem, but I don’t care; I actually believe.

I believe in us and what we could become.
I believe we could be the greatest love story—a love so strong we’d both forget what it ever felt like to be numb.

I want that for you, more so than for me.
I want you to feel true happiness and love—I want your soul to be set free.

Free from the pain, from the demons you keep.
I just want to be the person you wake up next to and the one you’re with when you fall asleep.

I don’t want to make this harder on you; I just want to express how I feel.
Because I know she’ll do the same, but I hope you can tell which one is more real.

I don’t know about you, but I want someone who is sure they love me—that I’m their home.
I don’t want someone who, after years, finally decides they want to be with me because it’s better than being alone.

If, after all this, I’m still not the one you choose,
Please don’t worry about me. Even though, I’m sensitive and easily bruised.

But don’t let your heart be heavy. Don’t worry about me at all.
Because, although I hope I’m your person (and honestly, I feel I am), this story—our story—will always be my favorite to recall.

I love you. I adore you. I’m yours, if you’ll have me.
We could have the world’s sweetest love story—that’s a promise I can guarantee.

"I'm sorry"
I say
As if I ever chose this
As if I ever wanted this to happen
I know it's hard for you
It's hard for all of us
But out of all the people who cried that night
I probably cried the least

You don't understand what it's like
To sit up in the middle of the night and look
At your own reflection
In the fourth floor window of a hospital room
And think
"I've lost my mind"
Because that is the worst it ever gets
And I got there

And my thighs were stained
Red for so many days
From the chaffing of the hospital scrubs
As I am carried  away
In a car with a locked glass division
A bag of all my things and
The only thing I'm sorry for
Is the fact that this didn't happen sooner

People say that death is so bad
That death is a horrible monster that
Comes in the middle of the night
And steals away their children
So what if those children were meant to be stolen?
So what if that is the only way to truly move on?
So please
Continue to villainize my only escape
And I will be sorry
That you can't understand

I know that I am different
Say that that's good
That things needed to change
But truth be told I can't recognize myself anymore
That girl in the mirror isn't me
Because part of me did die that night
How can I be expected to come back
And look at you all as my friends
When I can't even look at myself?

I guess I am sorry
I'm sorry that I made you look at me
In that way that broke anything close to the trust
That we never had
I'm sorry for all the cuts and the scars and
I'm sorry that they are all there for a reason
I'm sorry that I am never going to be the same
I'm sorry that I am never going to be okay and
I can't change that

I'm sorry that all those nights that I couldn't sleep because
I knew that I had lost everything
Cannot be changed
You say those nights were wasted
My mind is wasted
But is it really a waste
When we are all going to the same place
Six feet underground
Then
Maybe
My mind will be wasted

I'm sorry that I'm angry
And bitter
And that I don't back down even if I should
And if I'm not right, I hurt people
If I am right, I hurt myself
I know that it seems
Like I am doing this on purpose but
It all comes back to killing the thing
That says it is me
But is not

I'm sorry that I looked at him
When I should've looked away
I'm sorry that an hour in the backyard
Of all the broken and forgotten people
Is the closest I've ever come to happiness
And I'm sorry that if getting better means
Leaving them
And coming back home to here
I don't want to get better at all

I'm sorry that I couldn't stop shaking
I'm sorry that the wheelchair rattled and
Nurses asked if I wanted a blanket
As I sat in that waiting room
With all the people and their broken bodies
It was me alone
With a broken mind
Did I embarrass you then?

So I'm sorry that
You have a perfect sob story
You can write your poems and
Tell your friends all about
How a perfectly good girl met such
A tragic fate
I'm sorry that this had to happen to you
Sorry that I happened to you

"I'm sorry"
Are you happy now?

I hereby compile these words
representative of these moments
that I truly don't want to think of anymore.

I gather them here with the hopes
that maybe this can be my discard pile.
Just maybe they won't eventually loop their way back in
like the broken record I am.
Maybe my heart and mind can get
some long, sustained, peace
that's so truly ******* deserved.

I'll never forget the way my mom looked at me
after we just broke up
and you left my house for the last time.
"Oh honey you loved someone with your whole heart
and it didn't work out... I'm so sorry,"
she whimpered, eyes glistening with tears that wouldn't fall.

I'll never forget our "friendship"
that was essentially you expecting
the same emotional labor from me
with increasingly more conversations
centered around you and only you,
and heaven forbid if I tried to give you advice.

I'll never forget New Years Day of 2020.
My family's health crisis,
and your utter silence
or lack of any semblance of care for me.
Where were you, pal?
Later that same day my world would come crashing down
as that same day I learned of your true colors
and just how selfish and beastly they were.
How I recoiled when your handsome grin
turned to snarling fangs
when I wouldn't give you what you want
and how you tried to tear it
or manipulate it out of me
for the next several days until I chose
complete 'radio silence' from you
blocking you from every possible thing
as I saw no other option for my own health.

I'll never forget having to play music
every time I showered
in the following months
or my mind would just attack itself
going back through what you did
how it all went down, a play by play
again and again and again.

I'll never forget finally admitting to my family
that you reached out to me
with the most vague, pathetic, half assed, excuse for an apology
I have ever had the displeasure to read.
I'll never forget my older brother, so nonchalant,
saying
"Well yeah, he called you the love of his life so I kind of figured
at one point or another he'd try to reach out."
And the fun little breathless dagger twist  
I felt in my chest in that moment.

I think I just have to make peace with the fact
that I'll never understand how you can treat someone
as horrifically as you did me
and still sleep at night.
It's one thing to do what you did
but another to lie to me about it
and entirely another to do your due diligence
to try and villainize me amongst our mutual friends for it
when you and I both know all I sought was the truth
from you
and to stand up for myself.

And oh thank god I did
I wouldn't have survived your emotional vampirism,
on top of everything else I had to contend with in 2020.
I hereby submit what was 'us' to fade and die with these digital letters.
I continue on my path in hopes of finding and securing
a true love that lasts, grows and develops with me.

i sought refuge in the back of a rundown playground. orange and purple monkey bars turning the insides of fingers soft red, and faces a delicate blue from hanging upside down for too long. 2017 was the year everything changed. following a confession down a busy street on dashain, you made me promise not to say anything. i learned then to keep secrets and guard them with shame; knowing that the day would come, when you’d blindside and lie. “it’s her fault,” you told my sister, as you carried all your **** out the door. my mother at the top of the staircase, overhearing your utterance–– it’s typical of you to place blame everywhere else besides yourself. you instilled a lie that would create 3 years worth of resentment, anger, and pointed fingers. the truth was you didn’t know how to talk, and while you told me you had done “all you could to make her happy, it just didn’t work out”–– there’s more that permeates below cryptic explanations. i learned how to villainize quickly, internalizing every detail you spewed out during friday night outings. when i walked beside you in silence, your body and voice strained with tension, “why don’t you ever say anything to me?”, maybe i have nothing to say. or maybe because deep down i knew that to speak truthfully to you would result in defensive explanations; “oh no you just don’t understand. you think you do, but you really don’t.” cool. i learned how to shut the **** up and disassociate. each time an email entered your mailbox, and the accusations began, so did you. dumping all your emotional baggage onto the table, my mozzarella sticks falling to the floor; and the pita bread and hummus shoved into my mouth to keep me from responding and providing comfort to you. i learned about repression, what it means to bite your tongue, and turn a blind eye. not because i wanted to, but to maintain the peace. what a load of *******. you condemned my tears; and it was then that i learned that pain and hurt are inconvenient. and when your amante came to stay for a month and a half, you opened arms and welcomed her tears willingly. i guess age warrants greater emotional respect and support. i learned quick that tender tongue does not run in your bloodline, so i looked elsewhere for verbal consultation.

in the back of a rundown playground is where you’d find me, across a pubescent girl with thick, black frames, soft eyes, and verbal delicacy. we exchanged stories spoken through runny noses and silent tears, dreading to take the 4pm bus home knowing what would await. the eight hour school day offered an array of distractions far from the shitshow that permeated our homes. we interlocked hands and vowed to be there for another; at the time you were enraged by a pain that gripped at your throat most days. i felt selfish to speak out, so i didn’t. instead i made room for you each weekend, anxiety in my stomach, bracing myself for whatever revelation or frustration you contained all week to ooze out over a glass of whiskey. and as i write this, years after these unfolding events, i wince, at your reaction, as you negate these observations and feelings of mine. i’m learning to claim entitlement over my pain, you nor anyone else can spell it out for me. and like all the rest, you will sit in discomfort and swallow each moment with me. you will feel what it feels to walk through the past five years, and feel every emotion that kept us interconnected and separated. for the first time, you will learn how to listen openly. i don’t write to antagonize, but to recount the years you missed of me; with the hopes you’ll understand me more than you did before.

i hope you make it through to the very end.

-c.alejandra

Oh these days, living in a caricatures ink,
Where extremes become normal each day,
I turn on the TV and can’t help but think,
It seems Archie Bunker has gotten his way.
Crowing “Those were the days” with ironic flourishes,
An anti-hero, imperfect, a misguided clown,
Meant to shine light on our cultural skirmishes,
Not to be held up as the toast of the town.
The cult of ignorance has built a platform
On top of our lizard brain prejudice fears.
Sneering “pass the buck” if you fail to perform,
“Idolize my fame, and villainize your peers.
Pay no attention to evidence you see,
And whatever you do, just don’t blame me.”