Every moment was a falsehood,
    "I love you" is "I hate you" masked with wanting ; its cheap makeup.
         With his life ending, his last thought was remorse.
             Remorse for time wasted, cheap words, and you.
                Oh! sad little clown! "I love you" on the marquee,
                      what a performance, cheap, comical, old.
                          

                         -A clown named 𝓐 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓹𝓸𝓮𝓽

Yellow flowers of 𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥,
  we mourn and come upon their pupils,
      under the many colors of papal picado,
        endless rainbow of sweet emotion,
                a distant reminder of what past,
                         what is gone,
                               & what is eternal

Hold me like you used to do,
Let my thoughts run free to the moon,
      Let my arteries burn in lustful flame,
             Let me fall in love all over tonight,
for endless are my sorrows,
  so endless my miseries,
        I'm scared. . .
          so let me experience . . . love. . .
                at least for tonight.

He said facing me
  " I love you because you never lie"
but my back
  tells the story
    of many lies
      & many nights
          looking for love
             living a lie
                 despite it all.

We are taught not to envy others.
   but I am a failure at life, a sacrilegious romantic fool.
I envy every second of the hand you hold,
so unaware as you gaze at your phone.
  Envy the seconds you sit together for a meal,
     ignoring one another.
        Envy when you sleep together,
           only to cheat together.

I envy others,
  my eyes fill with hate,
    for they serve as a mirror,
      in them I see me.
          . . .I'm s̶o̶r̶r̶y̶ . . .

Your song enamors,
   every essence
      speech,
      taste,
      sound,
       sight.
Such a rarity,
   beauty that does not fade at any hour.

But, every dark circle beneath such ardent eyes,
fail to hide the black abyss of pain, wanting and belonging,
   for left as shells, I lost the fight,
      I am just another beautiful fool
           enamored,
               loving,
                  wanting,
                     yearning,
                       in the intricate web of lies,
                           so beautifully spun,
                             to think I am the only ❁𝓃𝑒

I don't write about flying
I try not to write about love
try not to write about me
try not to write about death
try not to write about ****

I write critiques
  Yet I am down and I am out
       So I look at others for inspiration
& look in the mirror
only to see. . .

Hypocrisy,
**** A STEP DOWN FROM !Intellectualism!
   a partaker in mimetic creation in and endless state of iterability
        ! a charlatan of false truth!
             a poet for god sake!
                  a poet
                      a failure
                             yet
                                 I do not awake
                                          from this sweet dream
                                                 !please god! let me not wake!

Little Boy,
  you care too much. . .
     you love too much. . .
        you give too much. . .

Put your dreams first!
   𝒯𝒽𝒶𝓉'𝓈 𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻𝒾𝓈𝒽
It's not your responsibility!
   𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓇𝑒
Go, run, be free!
  𝐼 𝒸𝒶𝓃'𝓉

You loved them so much, they became your burden.
   You cared so much, they became your illness.
      You gave them all, they became your death sentence.
-𝚢𝚘𝚞

Give me your hand, give me your love.
Give me your hand, while we dance in purgatory.
An insignificant event, a moment in time.
Maybe five minutes, that is all we will be.

Qualm my steady heart in this dance together,
a simple reminder of each second that passes muffled by heartbeat,
While “our” song plays, “our” insignificant song.
Maybe three minutes long, that is all we are.

You gaze into my eyes, and I peer in your soul.
Our names become lost; they no longer matter.
For our love, song and dance are lost in time,
For that is all we were, two lovers, insignificant, lost to 🆃🅸🅼🅴

▼
I am tired of writing to my only fan; my imagination.
Tired of writing, tired of speaking
Tired of shouting, Tired of crying,
Alone. . .
   no one is reading. . .
            no one hears my pleas. . .
                     - A̶l̶o̶n̶e̶

Ay mi amor,
  sangre de mis venas,
     lleno de amor
       por la patria
          las legendes de ridículo
              Comida de de los indios
ay mi amor
    lloro por ti,
        por el dia
           que visito los montes
               con su monasterios,
                   de dios. . .

Save me from this romanticized brain,
my body enacts its revenge,
  Engrossed in an end that does not end.
It penetrated my soul, my body, my mind.
Save me! Save me! From myself!
From these thoughts, of this **** r̶o̶m̶a̶n̶t̶i̶c̶i̶z̶e̶d̶ ̶b̶r̶a̶i̶n̶
.

I used to find shame,
   in the great staple food of the tamale,
      drinking poor atole,
          and presenting a plate of mole to our guest,


I used to find shame,
   being the son of two "aliens"
        how it plagued me. . .

but like Jarabe Tapatío dancers,
  I found pride,
        in our dances,
            in our culture,
               in my family.
                   for it is me,
                       I am me.
                         I am proud. . .

-ᴘʀɪᴅᴇ

I have nothing left,
neither your touch, nor your lips,
just the echo in my heart; hollow anguish within me.
That is where your presence is,
that is where your presence lives,
  inside my broken clinging soul,
    and this insistence of writing about you,
        is to hear your sound, feel your heat,
             because it hurts, loving you, i̶t̶ ̶h̶u̶r̶t̶s̶.

Love is nostalgic,
it is an invisible voice with gentle sadness,
it does not hurt, but it burns. . .
This ʙᴜʀɴɪɴɢ consumes,
   every corner of your soul,
       every tear streamed,
           every word uttered,
leaving ardent ash, wanting time to come to an end.
Forever to last longer, as it paints his picture
always burning, always hearing,
the same old tune.

Did you get home last night?
  " I spent the night at her house"
                  - m̶o̶d̶e̶r̶n̶ ̶h̶e̶a̶r̶t̶b̶r̶e̶a̶k̶

Just a pinch to plump,
Just a pinch to get rid of the lines,
Just a pinch to shrink the neckline,
Just a pinch to lose the weight,

Just some pain to reshape,
Just some pain to change,
Just some pain to become who I am,

I don't know how to feel,
   knowing I'm sad again in this mirror,
          Just some more cuts,
                    Just some more pain,
What can go wrong? As I run from myself,
      Only to see him in the mirror everyday. . . .

Blood stained sheets,
   the smell of **** and ****,
      creases in white linen , never looked so colorful
          endless rivers of tears and anguish,
              dreary flowers in drool stains,
                    if sheets could talk. . .
                        they would beg "please stop"
                            above a never ending bedrock of old mattress springs,
                               that groin and creak,
                                   a tectonic shift of emotions,
                                         disturbed by a thunderous voice
                                               " clean yourself up, sorry"

a reminder you had your way. . .
         -ŘÃƤẸ

To my heart that is dead,
deserted of hate and love already lost,
to my heart held by the brakes of my flesh,
I say unto you, stop your song; as I give the twilights of my life.
To be reunited with him once more.

in the middle of my madness,
on the edge of life,
darkest of my days,
3:00 a.m. no clue whether its day or night,
clinging to your photos , sobbing, pleading, snorting, pretending to live my life.
I took back my life,
I started accepting that you are gone,
no words, no moments, no tears
will bring you back. . .
I needed to stop dwelling,
for as I spiral out of control,
I can choose when to stop,
I can choose when to change,
I can choose sadness or happiness,
I call the shots,
they are my own,
there's no point in meeting again,
you are gone. . . I am here. . .
your memories are here. . .
I am strong,
   I cry,
       I loved,
I will learn to love again,
for the destination I choose to find, is not where I hope to meet.
I am here. . . I choose to live. . .

Paint me naked,
A million ways,
    I will never be content,
       With what gazes back .

With my voice I call you,  
  with my heart I want you,
    with my nerves I feel you,
I love you. . .
Engulf me in your absence,
          fill me with your song. . .
You are eternally absent,
Born from perfected vanity,
     born to invoke anguish,
          for this loneliness numbs me,
Loving you this way it hurts,
     as you become o̶m̶n̶i̶p̶o̶t̶e̶n̶t̶ over my emotions,
I pray, I plead, burn it down
  for this love hurts.

Take me back to a time,
      when La Divina blessed the stage,
          when the horrors of war did not exist,
                when man only knew love and not hate,
                     when imaginary lines did not divide us,
  when religion and race did not exist.
        take me back before the creation of constructs,


Please take me.

-ⓣⓐⓚⓔ ⓜⓔ

Sleep my love,
may nightmares turn to dreams,
may worries fade,
may your past become your future.
until we meet again.

Sleep my love,
save your voice
become one with my dying heartbeat,
may your words that bring a sweet melancholy,
not be wasted on me.

May we meet again,
         fight again,
             laugh again,
                love again,
so let my eyes close and heart sleep
in the sweet moments of our goodbye
           until we meet again.

Don't ask me not to care too much,
     you will become my world,
          even when our cosmos collide
     even when sedation and lies of happiness no longer fix the break
   I will still love you, why? Because at one point we were best friends.

This bed; 𝓘 lay alone. . .
I d𝓸𝓷'𝓽 want to be alone. . .
    I 𝔀𝓪𝓷𝓽 you; next to me
       Please let 𝓾𝓼 conjoin and become one
          take me 𝓽𝓸 the heavens
             Take me to a happy place 𝓫𝓮 kind. . .  
                𝓪 duo, becomes one. . .
                  I lay alone living amongst this 𝓶𝓮𝓶𝓸𝓻𝔂. . .

Soft hints of bergamot and cedar stain "our" sheets,
"our" morning alarm goes off,
but the weight of your arm is missing. .
I wake up with such sadness,
knowing that today, like every other day you're gone.
when you will return, I have no clue, seconds become eternity,
my love, you're leaving, you have left, you're gone.
The time has come to say goodbye,
I should be angry, I should be bitter,
I should curse your name,
yet I wish the best for you, good luck my love.

My heart drifting in your longing,
yearning for my time to come around, to meet deaths cold sweet embrace.

I miss you.

Smallness is not decided by others,
   it is not preordained fate,
    under the endless bastion of the fathers heaven,
         it is what YOU see in yourself,
              what YOU say about yourself,
                    what YOU think is acceptable
                        what YOU allow of others
                               It is 𝓎Ｏυ. . .

What
         if
            you
                   knew
                         the
                            silence
                    of
                       a
                       dial
                            tone

What
   if
    you
      starred
                 at
                     the  
                      phone
                        waiting
                                  for
                       the
                            ping
                                 that
                                     never
                                           came

Leaving you to wonder and wander
  dread, anger, anguish overtake you
     for the thrill of it all
in the solitude of the moment. . .
      

I hope "you" was not "me"

Laying next to you at night. .
while he is on my mind. . .
Small chills across my spine,
   pull away from your embrace. . .
    as I kiss him from afar. . .  I wish I was dead. . . to find him again. . .

Heart, beloved, yes; we know each other you and I.
How far we drifted, like light in a turbulent sea.
like the vanished rain, in dry desert heat.
Blood pumps like ardent angry flames,
𝚝𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚙. 𝚝𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚙. 𝚝𝚑𝚞𝚖𝚙.
vast silence broken by the catastrophe.
Heart; bites and pieces of forgotten matter.
In my endless fall into widowed sadness,
I forgot to love, I forgot to live, I forgot to shine.
Whoever looks at us know,
will see a broken man, with a broken heart.
Heart, hold me, forgive me, beat once more.
I want to feel the warm, sun rays of honey,
    I want to shine bright for me and you,
        I want to be. . . ᗩᒪIᐯE. . .

I have written thousands of poems,
30,000 thousand words and counting.

A quilt of memories both mine and yours,
   quatrains and couplets amongst swaying palm trees.


I wrote about anger, I wrote about hate,
   I wrote about death, I wrote about love,
       I wrote about lust, I wrote about you.

I drew maps in the stars,
   and my words became waves of emotion plunging
     me ever deeper into insanity.

But the words yet left unwritten,
    can not be created or describe,
       each day l̶i̶v̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶w̶i̶t̶h̶o̶u̶t̶ ̶y̶o̶u̶

Little Brown Bird,
   in the clutches of your design,
      free your cage
           & ƒ𝐋𝐲

Is she worth it, the stress, the pain, the hurt?
The tears as you beg her not to leave.
Is it her smile? That brings you comfort and warmth?
Is it her anger and jealousy? That makes you feel wanted?
Is the scratches or the bruises? I hear your reasons why.
She breaks your heart, steals your pride.
Leaving you shattered, incomplete,
She is a parasite, that has you caught in her treacherous tide.
I want to yell, I love you, I am here for you, be happy.
But I know you don't love me in that way,
But you are strong enough, my friend, to love yourself,
to choose yourself, to leave.

You were the most beautiful thing,
  behind a icy can of coke on a warm aired summer day.
      Love at first sight,
        until you spoke.

-ᴄᴀɴ ᴏꜰ ᴄᴏᴋᴇ

I love you body and soul,
graced by the heavens to find you,
to have us together is my nirvana.
I am too proud to admit,
you are
my breath. .
my brain. . .
the tenderness. . .
my heart . . .
please, oh please.
by gods grace keep us united,
for I yearn for your love and respect.
Hear my plea, for its not a child's plea.,
but filled with sentiment from our youth.
promise to be tender
to love, and give affection.
I am yours to do as you will,
I am yours to break at your will
so please love me.

Your soul,
𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓭𝓮𝓪𝓭 𝓹𝓸𝓮𝓽

Your voice, a haunting melody, a mournful plea.
Your touch, poison to my heart,
Chained to your embrace, as this darkness creeps and takes a toll.
We are broken mirrors, reflecting pain,
these shattered fragments, that love forgo's,
two souls conjoined in this venomous vine.
awaiting the afterlife where our souls can hopefully align.

Change your hair,
  Change your face,
       Change yourself,
           put him first,
Change , Change, Change,
          one thing stays the same. . . it's not you. . .
               it will never be you. . .
                        so consistent.

I'm sorry I am broken,
But I am not your modern day simile,
I don't choose to compete,
I don't choose to check off the boxes
I am broken, different, and strong.

Does that scare you?
I am not your definition of beautiful,
  I am mine, and that is okay I choose to embrace my flaws.

D̶o̶n̶'̶t̶ ̶c̶r̶y̶ ̶l̶i̶t̶t̶l̶e̶ ̶b̶o̶y̶,
you are vain, blasphemous, ungrateful
         an arrogant and flawed poetic braggart.
you are an egomaniacal, cold, self centered fragile flower
          of your own self built malediction.
your heart black, wicked, evil, vengeful.

Don't cry little boy,
    just avoid the mirror,
       avoid the thousand cuts of self inflicted pain.
          as the man you grew into gazes back.

He was a giver,
   he gave and he gave,
      warm bodies were comfort,
          even if they cost a good cent.
They were takers,
     they took and took,
         until nothing was left,
             even if they knew it was wrong.
Both sides played the same song,
   until, he became ill,
     he begged and begged,  
        for salvation,  
           only to meet damnation,
              stormy sky's formed,
                "lift me up"
                    "𝒹❁𝓃'𝓉 𝓁𝑒𝒶𝓋𝑒 𝓂𝑒"
                        the sky laughed mockingly,
                             he was alone.
                                 sky's cleared,
                                      he lay,
                                         naked,
                                           defeated,
                                              alone.
They wore black,
    They cried out their souls,
        Warm bodies called out his name,
            that's all he wanted,
               but it falls on deaths ears.

It takes two pillars
  to build a foundation.
    as one rots and decays,
     the other cracks, bends, creaks and cries.
Then we have one. . .
  longing for support,
     only to find the world avoids the "broken" foundations.

-
b̵̪͈̙͚̪̞̗̱̅͒͘r̴̡̝̻̫͙̺̮̟̾͊̅̋̅̄͘̚͜͝ͅọ̴̲̓̈́̃̎̓ǩ̴̫̟͕̲͔̂̽̏͛͜͜͝e̵̋̎̔͠­̮̼͐͜ǹ̶̤̖̲̭̘̿́ ̴̨͖͇͍̦̯̤̐̅͋͘͘͜f̵̜̜͕͔̫̹̫̹̎̾̅͌͊̕͝ͅò̶̲̻̣̑͋͗̃͒̒̍̄ủ̵̮̪͍̼̳͔̗͉́̃̓n̶̦͘͜­̮̦̝̻̱͜d̶̫̲͒͌ā̴̡̛̭̭͘t̴̡̳̪̯̖̣͗̿͛̄̍̌͝ͅi̶̲͑̅ơ̶̮͇̼̹͜n̴̢̢̤̭̜̹̙̹͓̆̔ŝ̵­̢̛̙͙̗͗́̽͗̕̚