And now, everything I touch seems to turn to mold. The animals hollow out, the trees wilt, The people stay the same. With their brains mushing and mushrooming and velvety greening. I don’t know why- or how- I turn everything to mold. Maybe I attack the already molding or maybe mold has gotten into my […]
#1 Ay Mujer- Oh Woman- Mujer Joven, Young Woman, Con una belleza como ninguna otra. With Beauty like no other. Cuando lo viste por primera vez. When you first saw him. Sabías que lo amabas. You knew that you loved him. Y el dijo que también te amaba. And he said he loved you too
Poems of La Llorona Read More »
5 things you can see I could see the back of someone’s head, she had blonde hair that had been braided. I could count every strand if I concentrated hard enough. I could see my teacher barricading the door. I could see the boys from my math class in the corner, giggling over a lit
sadness is a competition and something to be fed. my face changes every day, I stop trying to recognize it. I cut tiny pieces of my hair to feel like a criminal. on Sunday nights I teach myself to cry. I fantasize about being poisoned in a rose garden and a billowing Indigo gown. I
I’m still here after a month of hot showers cringing, crouched over my bloated stomach curdling with ravenous hunger that haunts still, in sticky sweat dreams of funfetti cake slices and wandering off-course in shadowed forests to old lovers’ paths where maybe I wouldn’t have tread at all if not for the salts spicing my
Empty eyes, this is the sky pooled in the basin of your irises, this is the blank face of sorrow. She is stone-made, she is heavy. She wraps her tender palms like wind, soft around the nape of your neck, plunging you beneath a silver-lined lake. In the crook of her ribs, her heart is:
I want blank bottles ugly, but with true impact really recyclable bright colors, pretty prints, now! the loud city revives me the planet is gone plastic and profit drive us towards a foreseen end die happy, die with something worth looking at, worth loving red Coke products will carpet our wasteland tomb, and red and
two voices on what is pretty and what is good Read More »
I’ve never been to a funeral before Black dresses Mascara tears To stain your pale lips Umbrellas and relatives you’ve never seen before Everyone holding hands maybe I’ve been to a zoom meeting before I’ve been a low quality camera at a funeral Set up in the dim lights of a church In the last
please kiss my eyes absorb me head-first into the downward spiral of You. wrap me in your arms cold metal barbed-wire it only hurts if you move You bruise violet your hands shape my skin i am in your image my better half has swallowed me i am You and You are nothing like Me
I know- regret is far too common. But I feel that it is symptomatic of the what, the why, the how, the questions we ask in the end. These questions I will answer, even though I know I do not need to, but yet somehow, I have to, because I love you, but I realize
