My reflection in the mirror taunts me
Who could ever love this?
My friends tell me I'm beautiful
But they are just kind
I see my body in mirror
I know that these are lies

In the photo
They are
Extraordinary
And there I am
With my awkward thumbs up
Hideous

"Too big"
My reflection screams at me
"Like your father"
It shouts

I hate myself even though
I am a person who loves
Loves so strongly
So easily
It's so easy for me to love others
But the mirror
Oh the mirror makes me hate me

After flooded land came drought.
Green leaves is what white dove brought.
Still, wars loud from silent despair.
Once again world went mute for mankind.
Women praying one more time.
For peace on earth and dove to fly.


Shell✨🐚

Have respect for all of nature.
All of creation, for self.
If you don’t eat it don’t **** it.
Still… people ****…
everything beautiful.
People.



Shell✨🐚

Looking through my purple veil
I see my moon lavender.
Plum glow on river stream
moving sparkling amethysts in rippling waves of water.
I’m so in love I dream in pink bubblegum colors.
Can’t wait to meet my special one so
sending something to remember me.
Candle light under lavender moon.
Going with the flow on ****** like floating wood,
for you my waiting lover.
Letting know I’m still on my way to you
while trees silhouettes are watching.



Shell ✨🐚

I just came from the cafeteria. In a shocking twist,
I have to actually meet people, I mean, can you imagine?
And we have group projects, my least favorite thing,
except perhaps, having a gym class.

The cafeteria was so crowded—didn’t I see you there?

Everyone there seemed to be wearing vintage Urban Outfitters.
I felt left out, but no one openly pointed at me.

Next, I expect to see bubblegum patch vests, skate-fit jeans and leopard-appliqué flats.

Between us, I’ve gotten old, and lost what little fashion game I had.
Now I’m modulated, that is, I’m over over-indulgence.

When I pictured myself in college, ***, what, a half a decade ago?
I imagined myself in a Lime Fizz Dress from Modcloth.
THAT never happened—which is all for the good.

School and by extension - school work - is definitely happening.
It’s not all studying while drinking back-to-back espressos at sunrise.

This week’s assignments due are: a ‘reflective assignment’ on qualitative research methods, a policy memo, a case analysis, and a group presentation. Argh.

So if you don’t hear from me—I haven’t been deported—I’m just oppressed.
.
.
Songs for this:
This is Why by Paramore
Lauren by Men I Trust
Margaret by Pomegranate tea [E]

The sky rumbles.
The smell of rain
comes through
as it drops ten degrees.
A wall of droplets
covers the open
greenhouse,
just after the caladiums
and the English ivy,
posted nicely
on symmetrical tables.

The wind dances
with the tall trees.
I can barely hear myself think
or talk
God is angry today.
Lightning strikes.

Arturo,
this 5’6” Hispanic old man,
acts as if he’s scared.
“Ay ay ay,” he says,
as he looks at me laughing.
We all sit,
waiting
for the sudden rage
to stop.

The roof
becomes a drumline,
each beat heavier
than the last.

Arturo crosses himself.
A silence blooms
between thunderclaps,
and in it,
I catch myself wondering
about the things
we don’t speak of,
how laughter
can be a kind of prayer.

I wish for coffee,
as if warmth
might steady the world.

The rain doesn’t ask
for permission to soften.
It just does.

someone will remember us
before we're forgotten—

a final ache of memory
lingering
willing itself
to survive

like laughter
like the pain
like summers spent
in the arms of rain

someone will remember us
for who we were
and all we
never became

someone will remember us
though we’ve forgotten ourselves
with no trace left
to mourn

just dust gathering softly
on photographs kept
in a home long forlorn

someone will remember us
someone will remember us
someone will remember us?

I swim endless in despair
So that I do not drown in it.
I breathe only to breathe.

I am suspended in sunlight with no warmth.
I am surrounded by notes that make no melody.
I fumble, falter, fail.

Heavy as a raindrop whose cold
Penetrates deeply into loneliness
Is the air, the light, the lingering.

I forget too much.
I remember too much.
I am too much, and not enough.

A shallow pool is that in which we swim
A void wants only to be filled.
Misery takes us all.