it’s insane how people use their power sometimes
just to show how much they have..

we have our basic and humane rights
not asking for much but
then there are those who choose to be the judge
of our actual lives
holding it in their palms
like a toy
wondering if they’ll rip off the head or not just because

they can.

observing and studying.

behind every face, there is a story.
Which we all fail to
realize at times.

Fail to realize that she may
seem
like she has her
sh*t together even though
it's just a front.
She's on her way to
nowhere.
Running away from anxieties and expectations.
At least she has somewhat of a smile
right?
That's all we need to put up this front that
everything's fine?!
Fail to realize that he has creases on his
face
looking as if caused by laughter
yet from
shedding tears of both
pain and joy.
Scars on wrists and bruises on his
back
that stays as hidden stories
only revealed when he
wears short-sleeved shirts.
Seems like the only time
people want to pay attention.
Funny right?
Couldn't notice before right?

your smile is my most favorite beautiful thing in the world.






keep smiling for me sugar

Are you the type that'd rather know how they'd die



or when they will.

Or will you just look at me crazy like you usually do when I talk like this
and then just look away
trying to hide the possibility of you

already having an answer.
Having already contemplated on the subject for some time now.

i have walked many planets
and their moons
taking time to ponder on my
love for the generous universe.

every night i’d watch the sun transition
and i loved it when it came and even
when it went..
and i was content with the stars.

until i saw you arrive
on a near planet..
and you came out

my astronaut man
with all the planets on strings like
giant balloons

and you approached me and knelt on one knee
as you asked to explore the rest of the universe with me.



there is so much to see my love

yes
spanish mothers will always love their sons
not knowing the havoc they wreak
toward freshmen girls senses
harassing them
holding them
making them feel like
maybe it’s
supposed to feel like this..
supposed to be this way..

spanish mothers
will have a poté of arroz ready all the time for her growing boy
with a cold Malta w crushed ice at the ready.
spanish mothers
don’t believe the teachers at the conferences
about the talking and the disruptions in the class
mi niño nunca habla durante de la clase
she’s sure of it.
the teachers baffled thinking that if they told a parent
things would change.

nowhere to turn.
their sons won’t be stopped.







dun dun duuuuuuun

clicking his
pen like a
heartbeat
      click click
he saw her
flourishing
      click click
moving on from their
past toxic relationship
       click click
she’s not crippling now that he
stopped talking to her
       click click

he kept telling her she’d be fine

if i disappeared

       click click

I was depressed when I stepped into the
L train
what was more visible though was my
anxiety from being a
bus-girl and not avidly riding
dingy.             rat-infested.           ***-reeking.     hobo-filled.
trains.

I sat right next to the most evil looking
character from a beloved Disney movie.
He asked me how my morning was going
as he held his coffee in his left hand and
a cigarette in the right.
breath reeking of sadness greater than mine.
such a New Yorker thing.

I told him about my friend moving away and how I was so sad I made my mom cry
And then he told me about how he was sad when his friend decided not to share a cardboard box with him..and I kinda just nodded
hoping he wasn’t serious.

train people are interesting so
in order for Joey- yes his name was Joey- to stop talking to me
I started to write about all the
sweetbitter things about the train
and if Joey just wanted to feel like he was relatable again..

i cried on the bus
yes i am ashamed
you left me exposed like
a half eaten apple
oxidizing
wasting away
desire to finish me depleting exponentially
you took a bite out of me
tore my flesh with the
obnoxious crunch but scar tissue is bound to develop
you savored me in that bite
lapped up my sweet juice and left me
because there’s vermin that’ll finish me off

at least i was noticed for an instant

6,000 islands in greece
17,508 islands in indonesia
200 islands in the maldives
yet you choose to inhabit yourself in
the chaotic paradise of
my mind

why..

calming
watching soap run off your body
with the steady stream of tiny water jets
caressing the shape of my side
dripping down hip dips and wet lips
in perfumed foam down the drain

do you mind if i
trail my fingers along your collar
and slowly undo your bow tie
(being that it’ll take me a while).
i’ll attempt to be seductive being the nerd that i am
and you kinda just sigh
shake your head and roll your eyes
wondering why..
i bought the socks that are thigh-highs
that are irresistible to you
i don’t know why
but hey if it gets you going
i’ll give it a try.

as I looked for my father
all around the campgrounds.
I realized I was only looking at the
dirt road and what was in front of me
(even though I was barefoot and trying to
step lightly on rigid rocks and pebbles).
I then looked up and
took a breath.
fresh air.
non-city air.
cigarette-less air.
I looked to the left and there it was
a breathtaking mountain
mostly inhabited by the greenery
of the area.
The sky was clear and it was as if
the clouds were following me at the
same pace.
Nature.
I feel that as a city girl,
I don't take advantage of my surroundings
as much as I should.
All the lights of the city.
The different people with their
assorted accents, dialects, and cultures.
Life is beautiful.
You just need to step back and
observe the good and
take advantage of it.

the darkest color owing to the absence of light.

it is the most beautiful color
he said.
The color with the most possibilities.

The color that described his soul adequately after
he wasn't exposed to her
light
anymore.

It’s dark where I am.
not metaphorically entirely for once.

I wish I could see his face
if only I could just turn around,
see if I could help him, knowing well of all of my previous efforts
And their failures with each attempt.
I forfeit the idea and instead,
I look to my left and see my parents
holding hands both busy keeping silent
the high school
middle school and
elementary sweethearts.

They stayed together through such hard times.
How long do I have until he realizes that my efforts truly are
worthless, unmoving, and
meaningless..
Does he think this already?
Am I too late?

i blow the dust off my culinary treat
and they tower over me and spit on what i’ve presented
ungrateful, spiteful, unhappy
i distribute my truth and it sits sour
in the stomachs of those i care for
i look at their faces in hopes to be understood
they find it revolting every time
despite me adding sweetener to my words
flipped onto me as though i’m the problem
i go back to my abode to sugar coat these words
i utter once again to be received more palatable by ears that need tickling

i wrap my childhood needs in soft pink satin cloth covered so they don’t
hurt again for a while in a gift box with a bow to be stored on the highest shelf in the closet of my mind
i hold the box

maybe this time it’s different

it was an orangey-red kinda scheme in the sky
that evening
that evening that
“changed our lives for the better”
which was subjective.

you told me you didn’t cheat
but you found somebody else
that needed love and care
and more perspective in life,
one that shouldn’t be tied down..

needed to get out there and discover..

and it was you.






you found yourself and you lost me

he took the blindfold off
and tears welled up in her big hazel eyes
and he held her rosy cheeks
and told her that he genuinely loved her
and she was happy that he went through all the trouble
for the surprise

and then he said
but there’s more
and she got excited and
he put the blindfold back on
as he said wait till you see this part

and there was no more anything.



because it was make-believe after all

i took a solemn, slow walk down the
sidewalk in front of your apartment
and i saw her,

intimidating at first but beautiful
in black lace,
Death,

sitting in a bookstore skimming through a book about Life,
oh they were an inseparable pair but
oh she was magnificent

but after contemplating for some time
i realized that in order
to be truly happy,

i must meet her.

i closed my eyes and saw
the lights flickering
the lights have been left on for too long and now
the bill’ll be high ****** and
the room hasn’t been tended to
i inhale and see an old juice spill on the ground that
has turned to a sweet syrup for the ants.

i squirm in my seat aware that this is a panic attack.
i yell in the confines of my adolescent brain that has rock posters hung up and activists signatures
some on the floor even.
the audacity.
i yell for the desire of wanting to rip my clothes off and reach nothing.
tear at my skin and pluck each hair that i grow out till i cry.
i yell because what else to do when the ocean seems to yell over you when by the shore
just trying to get away from everything but reminds you you are stuck
stuck in the confines of your earth.
deteriorating sweet earth.

my loud heartbeat
made the sound of the crashing walls
deafened
muted and delayed.
i use those words often now.

i open my eyes back up to see your radiant smile
glowing for me like the moon
when i remember its presence
it smiles back at me
and i put my head back into the car and adjust the seatbelt and put my head down into my own lap until i get carsick.
i take it for granted
the moon
i take me for granted

let me dim..

the noxious smell of gas from worn out
amusement park rides
the blaring sun making the group picture take longer
whines and groans and chants for iced water
misty cool mornings after the storm
the distinct smell of grandma’s car rides
the waves of nostalgia when you see graf on the walls in williamsburg
the laughter of kids on the swings while walking past parks
remembering the child you used to be,
swinging
escaping reality
knowing those children will be just as lost as you one day
looking at sand
boys legs stretching like taffy
and it’s like we never moved

take me
where nothing matters
time stands still
no hatred
corruption
and war
take me
where the grass
is greener
where there is
fresh air everywhere
no worries to beware
of terrorism anywhere
no worries
about the dreamkillers
and the doubters
somewhere
someday
You shall take me
to this
better atmosphere

i feel useless when
i’m you-less..
i can’t help however that she’s
the one he chooses.
when you kiss her and watch me
it cuts me and you know
you’re ruthless.
in the playing field of love
i’m always the one that loses..
and to think the cutest would be
the truest
but really just the most
clueless.

holding my baby’s feet
i’d count the little toes
1,2..4..7,8..10
one day these feet’ll walk miles to find who she is
and possibly stumble across a potential lover..
smoothing my baby’s hair
i only hope she learns to appreciate herself quicker
than her mother did.
caressing her ears
i fear of the criticism of foolish school children
that will bring her down even on days where it seems like things can’t get any worse.
all swaddled, she’d giggle in her sleep and off she dozes..
i’d kiss her forehead and whisper

i promise i will try my best to raise you better than i was

why must i look broken
for you to believe i am broken
there’s more that meets the eye
yet it’s more comfortable atop
the lash for most-
mental health is real
and how many lavender oil-infused
baths
scented candles
and Daniel Caesar songs will it take
until the self loathing ceases
the dark hooded voices to cease
it’s echoing in my mind
twisted
painted contorted for someone to love
the painting no one understands until one person tilts their head and squints at the canvas
for someone to embrace
and it must be me first.

he was raised to love
not to hate
he really did love her
he never felt the same about anyone before her
and hopefully
there wouldnt be an after.

he was also raised in a household
where fighting
was a norm.
he saw everyday his mother getting yelled at and beaten
by his step-father
and he would be threatened to fight with him.
(and by agreeing, he felt that could possibly help his mother open her eyes)
he never thought he could hate
but he did.
he sincerely hated
with a passion.
so much so that he started to actually feel it.
literal heartache.
he started to fear himself
knowing that he could both
love and
hate so greatly.
with his love,
he didnt want her to know
but he had put up a barrier
between both
her and him.
she started to sense it though.
she wanted to love him wholeheartedly
but he just wouldnt
allow it.

he was too afraid to hurt both her and him.
putting up a barrier couldve been the exact thing that could save them.
Like his family that was separated yet together
both crossed between
love and hate.

and the world is
corrupt
and putrid and behind every corner
is a person plotting another’s demise
and i look up only to see swinging brown bodies
from the branches
dancing to the whistles of the wind
and the whites
seeing their downfall
from above their heads
the whites
afraid of the color they don’t know
the winds
up-taking their beings without permission
they nod as if they’ve done a noble deed
and i collapse from beneath the oak
from the stench of rotting flesh
and fallen hopes..

the cold wind was fighting to come through the car
sounding like a flame while the car zoomed on the freeway
my heart burned
all the chipotle and heartache i guess
there’s bumps on the ground and i look to the side of the freeway and there’s soiled bottles riddened with cigarette butts
there’s bumps on my legs
you rushed me and now i have little tissues on em


maybe we rushed this too..

she watched toy videos
in the back of the bus
on her dads phone so she would cooperate
as he clipped multicolored sunflower
hair clips to each twist
from the beauty supply
brown skin growing brown hair
from rich roots
grabbing one by one out her bookbag
tedious and tender work
a twist around the back piece and clip
twist and clip
twist and clip
he finished and pulled back in admiration
of his work
she looked up and
looked lovely
just like her mommy
with every heart break he’d be there
every recital
every show and tell
every teacher conference
and she’ll always,
no matter how old she grows
no matter how far she lives,
be his baby girl

i didnt have a bathing suit
and you didnt have a care..
the swallows chirped from above

we waded in the river
all over the
slimy algae-encased rocks
almost ensuring us stumbling every once in a while
breaking up the romantic moments.
we glided over the stones
with as much grace as newborn antelopes trying to balance their weight with gravity.
but it was alright
because i was with you and i didn’t care about anything else.

i walked outside with poisonous thoughts within my cranium
get over yourself
i went outside in hopes of getting air
youre choking
and switching my focus from you
and also to avoid...you
but you came back



let me disappear.

when im alone
and i have nothing to
direct my attention to
i wish i had my fill
of the things that are known to **** you.

its been a little while
that ive been clean of it

but i need it.

i get itchy
and twitchy
and thirsty
without it
my throat feels like its on fire
and the only thing that could cool my case
was another fill.

without it
i’d have these extrodinary headaches, real irritable
and i’d feel like i saw the room slowly crumbling down
and the floor would spin from beneath me
which it never did.

once i had another fill
it was as if it made my stomach full again
it felt like a three course meal
in one small compact dose.
so
so
tasty
yet terrible.
its tearing my family apart
and i know this but when my mind starts
thinking about moments like those.
where i felt really infinite.
i start to crave
for another fill.
another fill
just
one  
more
wont hurt.
at least for today..

the inviting fire
the one that did a little dance
when i lit the wick in the lavender candle in my room,
when the whole house was silent
and i could hear the whisps of the
inviting fire.
the decieving fire
dancing so beautifully
to the rhythm of every breath
i take in and
out
making me just want to
hold it in my hand and watch
it dance in my palm- but knowing
that the beautiful thing would hurt me
i dont attempt.
Tip it over on my bed and
it could end you and me mom said one night.
the blazing fire
the bright flame
that would light up the gold in my eyes
when i focused in the mirror in the dark
only source of light being the candle.
the fire
it could hurt
but maybe one day
I'll dance with
the flame

the first hour
all i could do
was think about him.
i would think about
how cold it is outside
and i wonder what my dads doing right now
was it hot or just warm
i mean it is the middle of may
and
what happend to **** barbaras fiancee
whyd they part?
id think about when the wifi connection'll get up and running
because i want to post this on my page successfully

the second hour
all i could think about
was him again.
what was he doing now.
did he miss me?
its so rainy and windy outside the plane
what if there's tubulence and i never see him again..
id think about him
then his little brother
then his dad
then Edgar.
ugh when that word comes out
it has an automatic ****** connotation to it
Edgar
ugh i really ha-disliked that man.
whyd he dislike me so much?
he wont even look at me

the third hour
its seven from where im from
and where im going its
four o clock
how does time work like that?
who came up with that?
so is it that if youre on the eastern side of the country
and you had an argument
and you travel to the western side
was it as if it never happened?
of course not so then
why
why is everything so complicated?
thats a generic question for sure.

the fourth hour
gosh this aircraft is small
so miniscule compared to the world
isnt it so odd that some people seem so prideful and big while seen from outer space in a plane
the plane looks like a moving ant
a moving ant to us
and as kids
we'd slowly torture them under a
microscope
on those extra hot days.
oh the days

the fifth hour
isnt it terrible
to be torn between two people?
forced to make a decision
about whos better
or whos more this and that.
the only dilemmas that i have are
choosing between
nutella or whipped cream
if i was still nine.
things just get more complicated as time progresses inevitably.

the sixth hour
we'll be making our descent soon
well hasnt this been an interesting ride.
now i know to never ever sit with
riley on an airplane
ever.

i distracted myself with different boys,
i dont know how to put it exactly but let me put it like this,
“he” created the **** in my chest
and i didn’t know what to do-
he was my first.

i cried,
had butter pecan ice cream,
did my nails,
watched UP three times.
yknow trying to heal it but
self love wasn’t cutting it.

so i created a mask for myself,
lookin identical but within almost cynical.
to heal how i felt,
i was going to make those males fall in love with me-
and then hold their hearts in front of them and
torture them meticulously,
all without them realizing it too.
the look on their faces as they tried to figure what was wrong with them
why i didn’t stay.
priceless.
the satisfaction was beyond belief.
but it wasn’t my own satisfaction,
it was because of the mask that i put on-
it wasn’t me i swear it!
i threw it away after reaching this point of realization

i finally settled for someone who treated me the same,
but stayed..
i know this game awfully well and
i don’t have a lot of time left

i layed on the algae-encased rocks looked at the blaring sun until i could look away and all
that’s visible is onyx landscape.
i look to the side-
half my face in the water.  
half just above
i feel the thick cool stream that makes my hair
dance and tangle
leaving fragments of organisms in my curls.
one with earth
i refused to leave the shore of rigid pebbles-
warmth in the body of water from the areas that the sun kissed for too long.
rather bake on bedrocks
raisin fingers
while i ponder how far down i could go until
people start to wonder of my whereabouts.

me and her,
who we'll call Aylah,
dated for a while but
I was abusive.
Physically and mentally
due to my childhood.
A year of putting up with me led
her into therapy
and she soon broke up with me..

After we still spoke from time to time
but she was much more
                 distant
and I don't blame her.
I was a terrible boyfriend to Aya
So to make up for the past..
(And I have improved)
I invited her to lunch with me..
but somehow the conversation spiraled
to how I was a terrible listener
and she wasted a year of her life staying with me..
that I was the reason she was still unstable and
she'll never fall for me again.
I said a couple of things as well..

She didn't respond.
One hour went by.
One day went by.
One week went by.
Until I finally got a text.

"I'm dying now." she said

"Wym?" i said.
I knew she'd never be a victim of self-harm.
I refuse to believe it.
It's just not in her nature.
her sweet, lovable nature
and for a year she put up with me.
She could handle this,
Right?
She wanted space and
that's what I'll give her.
She'd have to be joking.
She probably meant
her phone was dying.

Silly.

punkin,
i just got home and i let you know
then you sent me to bed to explain why tomorrow
which could be today
or a couple of days ago
or weeks ago
it depends when youre reading this.
anyways
as you know in the last poem i wrote was about
you
about
us.
when i told you about how i remember things by month
i didnt tell you this but
when i think of november
i think of how i asked you
what youd change about me.
see im trying to be the best person i can be
especially to feel worthy of you.
even though i asked you three times
you still wouldnt answer me.
the first time
you were confused.
the second time
you said you didnt want to tell me
the third time
you told me you wouldnt change a thing about me
which in essence would mean that without a piece of me
i wouldnt be i.
are you following or did i lose you?
why am i asking questions in a poem as if you could answer me?
gosh im really weird
anyways
though
when i think of february or march
i think of when you asked me this question yourself.
i was startled at first
i didnt want to answer you
i didnt know how
i didnt want to tell you how i truly felt.
i didnt want to tell you how perfect i think you are
i didnt want to tell you that i thought you were foolish for the question
i didnt want to tell you how i still admire you
when im mad at you
i didnt want to tell you how youve changed me
made me see another side
of myself.
you told me that my writings may not seem good to me
but to you.
you love them
and i may never see it
but you do..

Confusion
feelings and thoughts
jumbled together
secrets kept
drama spread
wallflowers noticing
geeks studying
normal
no such thing
Everyone's trying to
fit in
but then you think
'Are they the ones for me'
like shoe shopping
some too dull
some you'd never want
to be seen in public with
some too perky
and rarely you come across
ones
you truly
fall in love with

grungy teenage trigueña with
slits in her brows
new york city sewers
were cleaner than
her speech
she carried herself like
she’s the only one who exists
i complimented her before she stepped into her train
her curls bounced as she walked out of my life

the bus ride to brooklyn that one november night
when i left school and you came to see me
i held out my arm to show you the damage that had been done
you held me and promised me to never do it again and it was comforting to know you cared for the time being
placed your forehead on mine as bright red lights shone through
the bus of children were roudy but the vibe was serene- take me back.

i learned/ i was told in fourth grade
that when you talk really gentle and sweetly
to a plant
it’ll grow faster than if it was in a loud and angry environment.
i was given a small aloe bulb and i kept her,
promised i’ll water her when it’s necessary and a little bit in between
and put her up on the window that catches the most light.
and so i followed through
and so did she.
and now i cut open her prickly yet juicy leaves whenever i need an organic face mask for my hideous adolescent skin.

i want to escape
i want to drink to future accomplishments
i want to love
i want to ***** up
i want to dance
i want to forget
i want to make the promise to love you forever
i want to make the perfect poem
so much pressure to make
the perfect poem.
instead of all these feelings
ill just talk about anything.
i live in the middle of
somewhere and nowhere and
life is crazy and terrible and good all at once.
and i do my best to exist just for you

at a funeral
you don’t know what to do with
your hands
you see cousins you haven’t seen
since your grandma washed you together
in the sink as infants
baby fathers and exes that stayed close with the family
strangers and relatives alike
at a funeral
you don’t hear laughter
or ringtones go off
or the pounding of kids colliding
into people’s shins playing manhunt behind stools
with candles and
scattered memorial programs
only the stillness between the body of your
loved one
in a casket
and that’s the last way you’ll see them
you wallow and think back at pictures
of better days with them and it’s
surreal
that you’re gone
surreal that there is life
after you
people sit in rows and gaze to the front
the closer they sit
the more healing they needed
and the casket is adorned with festive cut outs
to ring life
in their cushioned box
at funerals there are
solemn carpets where
young widows have walked
childless parents have walked
long lost family have walked
and big men have walked
to carry the casket to the hertz
at a funeral
the directors place dollar boxes of stale tissue that
gets ran through without letup
and when people are ready to continue
living they go over to the primary family
hug them
reassuringly hold one hand
and make their exit unknowing of
the next funeral they’ll have to attend
in order to come together
once again

When I was thirteen and I was playing blind chicken with my 2 siblings- let me paint the scene: Ten year old Noah was chasing eight year old Lilah in hot pursuit with a blindfold- I know it sounds terrible already but it gets worse- He then of of course knocked down the hutch in my room and thousands of dollars shattered on my floor in the form of porcelain. I remember my mother cried that night. Then came the screaming. It was a combination of delirium, disbelief, and her just being plain irate. After all of it, I went to her and asked her why she got so mad it was just some "glass dolls" and then she said I could've used it to pay off college loans easier in the future by selling them rather struggle like she was doing.

its incredible how everyone views stars diffently
some who see the stars as the nightlights when the sun goes out
some who wish on the stars
some who dream about being that high like stars
some who hope to be stars someday
some who think they can count the stars
some who want to shut out the world and cry out against the stars
some who want to think that the stars are
pieces of heaven shinin' through in a world so cold and somber
those who know that theres more to our world past the stars
some who love to identify and track the stars
some who wish they can know where the stars came from to give praise to such wonderful creation
some who know where the stars and everything under it came from
some who have to give up on everything in their lives and are forced
to wallow about in the streets and give the stars names
some who are too busy to think about stars
some whove never really looked up from whats in front of them
but me
ill love them because theyll always be there for me
unlike these human beings