Death is a reminder that I’m alive.
Depressed, not skive.

To feel a grasp till I not,
I shall do —for what I can’t.
Seeing my tree grow with rot,
my roots shall grasp —for all has spent.
For growth in stagnation,
I have found my revelation.

For the clouds of today are swept away,
I will bathe —oh lil’ light, to find my way.
For in darkness, I crawl —inch by inch,
every single day;
The moon of dark has finally left its pitch.
Crawling— To find you, oh lil’ light, I pray.

You found me
in a broken state,

heartbroken,
building up my walls,

classic fight-or-flight,
trauma calling the shots.

I gave up wanting more,
but you came at the right time—

not to save me from myself,
but to show me how to live,
let go,

and let bygones
be bygones.

I couldn’t believe
that someone

would give me
a chance,

but you never
gave up on me,

even when I was
falling through
the cracks.

You showed me what
true love should be,

and I’m never going back.

The world of lies, with hollow eyes,
No, it is not the place for me.
You know I'm lonely—so lonely,
No one beside me, lost in the sea.

I long for a soulmate to carve a name
In the golden sands by the restless waves.
But the tides will come and wash it away—
Who do I turn to? Who will stay?

The sun exists, yet hides at night,
Just like me—I seem alright,
But deep inside, I fight my plight.

This world is a shadow, near in light,
Gone in the dark, out of sight.
This world won't change, I know it's true—
But one day, gold will come to you.

Let the dogs bark, let them sneer,
One day, their voices will disappear.
If they won’t let you fly, walk the sky,
If they block your path, keep moving by.

Push ahead, no matter how,
Chase your dreams, don’t stop now.
Without pain, life is incomplete,
Wings will sprout, though your back may bleed.

This world won’t change, but still, I try.
I am alone, lost in the night.
I don’t know when or how I’ll fall,
But I know—again—I’ll hit the floor.

****** tears from words that sting,
Yet life sways like a see-saw swing.
One day you're high, one day you're low,
But through it all, you learn and grow.

sometimes it’s piercing me how
people didn’t realize that
what they have easily are
invaluable luxury
something i can’t buy with money

oh if only
if only i’m in peace
with everything i have
value them as luxury
maybe my heart will finally be at ease

the uneasy effort results in clarity
that my start is still far below zero
and the dream is still far away to go

how do I tell myself
that the evil whispers aren’t true
that this is a milestone to celebrate
that hope will never disappear

to become my supporter
when I’m also the one carrying pain
I keep drowning
and keep shouting
“I love you”
“you’ve done well”

There must be something unseen
woven into your very being.
What else could explain
how, with so much weight,
you still move with such grace?
Like a weightless ballerina on her toes,
dancing across splintering boards,
running amok on the stage—
untouched, unbroken-
At peace

Three cheers for broken things!
Those who god rapes
and what the cat brings
inside causing screams. The last laugh.
Reduced to a shocking object;
denied personal being, a personal hell,
alone, touched by shadows.
All shadows imply light.
Torture of existence transforms to bliss.
This is what you signed up for now give it a kiss.
See and be seen.
Be vulnerable, be keen to love the ugly.
Cringing dancing singing -
Obscene wisdom, divine pain:
******* of fate.
Tainted blood yet the soul won't stain.

I feel at home at Taco Bell, as the cuisine
echoes the worst of my mom’s cooking:
cheese that tastes like beans,
beans that taste like rice,  
rice that tastes like flour.

It’s where I go when I am missing someone,
usually near their Jesus’ hour, between
the last sip of a lunch hour Pepsi
and the first after school Cinnabon
Delights clutched and munched
in little fingers.

I'll lean in whenever a raven haired Circe
at a corner table, resembling Sabrena—
that witch who first broke my heart—
casts a disdainful glance my way.

They’ll tug at the corners of their
bad girl leather jacket, gather
their familiar charms, and
shoot me a bird as
they vanish in
the smoke of
memory.

And then, on some evenings, customers
with my mother’s laugh will walk in
and then out, their arms cradling
grease-slicked terracotta bags,
sacred relics in the
fluorescence.

The smell of cheap tacos in brittle shells
filled with Hamburger Helper,
gummy cheese, old lettuce,
canned diced tomatoes-
that heavenly mess
masquerading as
a meal would
pull me back  
to her
cocina.    

In the haze of the Taco Bell fryers, the grease
sings of her failures and resilience.  Like her,
I would smile through it all—always
apologizing yet always trying—
in the end,  scraping meat
off chipped plates

remembering my mother’s taco shells and
refusing to wipe away the grease,
letting it linger an echo of
loves imperfect folds.