I wrote this poem in May of 2019.
And so she self medicated
with sleeping pills, alcohol
and Almodovar films
she wanted to drown out
the feelings of worthlessness
within her
she was exhausted
from repeating the same lust story
she needed just for today
to numb out her feelings,
to escape the fire in her brain
that burns with self-pity and self hat
I wrote this poem in May of 2023.
Can I blame the morning rain for making me crazy yesterday
it’s like I lost all of my emotional regulation skills
and I had to constantly struggle to reign my anger in
To not key my annoying coworker’s car
To not drive off somewhere and never come back
but HEY I still managed to get through the day
and not rage quit
aqui esta versión en Español:
poesía: loba
I’m a lone brunette wolf in a world full of blonde sheep
my exes always preferred blondes over me
I never knew exactly why
perhaps blondes really do have more fun
perhaps blondes are easier to manipulate
this used to bother me greatly,
even robbed me of my sanity and sleep
but eventually I had a great epiphany
the one meant for me will not just love how sweet I can be
He’ll also love and encourage the savage in me
he’ll know how to ride the turbulent waves of my mood swings
I’m not sure if I’ll meet him soon or if he even exists
but after this grand epiphany
I no longer care about my exes and their blonde sheep
In fact, I wish them all the best fairytale ending
I wrote this poem in May of 2023.
the end of the fiscal year brings out the worst in me
it crushes my soul and creativity
and makes me want to run into the woods and go feral
but my kids need food and shelter
so I put all of my distress tolerance skills to use
and my try my best to emotionally regulate my anger
and the fire that burns inside of me
hide behind phrases “okay, I’ll get that done”
“no worries” and “it’s no problem at all”
when I want to tell everyone to fuck your purchase orders
and spreadsheets
but sigh-I like my nice car
and Alexa playing Olivia Rodrigo in the morning
so I hold everything in
because I desperately need this paycheck
it sucks to be held hostage by capitalism
escribí este poema en el 2006.
mis rivales siempre son rubias
quizas sera porque ellas se dejan manipular
o porque a mis exes les dan paz
mientras aunque yo trato de ser tranquila como ellas
siempre fracaso porque soy una loba feroz en realidad
nunca fui o seré una oveja que se deja dominar
I wrote this poem in May of 2023.
almost cried out anger today
but instead went for a drive
a good choice for me and who I wanted to kill
blasted my music and screamed
“I fucking hate white women”
they seem to be a thorn in my side
all the fucking time
focusing on my mistakes
and snitching to my boss
pretending to be friend
never apologizing when they hurt me
constantly trying to bring me down
trying to make me feel less than
and while I hate how much they affect me
at least today I’m grateful that today my hatred for them inspired me
to write this poem
here’s the English version of this poem:
Poetry: Long Ago
por obligación y conveniencia seguimos juntos
ni siquiera queda cenizas del fuego
que alguna vez hubo entre nosotros
ni siquiera me puedo acordar
del último beso que compartimos
podríamos culpar la monotonía
o podríamos ser honestos y aceptar
que lo nuestro siempre fue un cuento
de incompatibilidad
I wrote this poem in May of 2023.
my boss tells me, “you’re so loved”
she’s not wrong
I have countless family, friends, and coworkers
singing my praises, encouraging and supporting me
and yet, I feel so alone-so lost-
constantly questioning my actions
am I doing this out of revenge or ego?
am I showing myself enough grace and compassion?
maybe I just need to sleep away
this existential frustration
here’s the English version of this poem:
poetry: dreams and goals
nos encarcelamos en monotonía y rutina
Convirtiéndonos victimas de nuestras vidas sin sueños y metas
pensando que nuestros mejores años han pasado
hundiendonos en el falso cuento que la sociedad
nos viendo que nuevas aventuras son solo
nuestros días de juventud
I wrote this poem in May of 2023.
not every day can be filled with peace, calm, joy or excitement
Some days are absolutely shitty and depressing
Some days it’s hard to get up in the morning
without screaming fuck repeatedly on your way to work
Some days are overwhelming to push through
as hormones and emotions fuck you up
Some days are for questioning your life choices over
and over again allowing doubt and insecurity
to cloud you its accomplice self invalidation
Some days are for getting up only to look forward to the end of it
when you can sleep with the hope for a better day
I wrote this sometime in 2006 when I was contemplative about life.
dreams and goals are important
without them life doesn’t have purpose
without them we get stuck in a routine of misery
Without them we end up projecting our insecurities on others
and making ourselves the victims of our lives
I wrote this poem in May of 2023.
just when I’m about to close my eyes
the overthinking starts and robs me of my sleep
I obsess and obsess over something thoughtless I’ve said
I try my best to remember the four agreements
I try my best to take control of my emotions
But here I am still losing sleep over something
that won’t even matter in a day or two
I wrote this in January of 2022.
Stuck in between Spanish and English
is a bilingual nightmare
constantly switching between languages
gives me a lifelong jaqueca
and at times I don’t get it right
it’s switching between two identities
Latina or American
it gets hard and confusing at times
but it’s who I am
Hablo con mamá en Español
I speak to my sons in English
Hablo con los pacientes en Español
I speak to my coworkers in English
and to code switch parece una comedia
I’m told that I’m fun and loud en Español
pero soy profesional y reservada in English
eventually I learn to meld
my American and Latina personalities
and I find my most authentic
bilingual and bicultural identity
aqui esta la version en Espanol: https://lifeonthebpd.com/2022/09/01/poesia-sin-claridad/
I channel the teenager that resides in me
on days when I’m about to lose my shit
I daydream what it be like to allow
the teenager in me to take over
imagine going to the airport with my passport
and escape to somewhere, anywhere
I’m free to be nobody
where I’m not a mom, a coworker,
a daughter, a friend
somewhere where I can relax and write
flowery poetry about sunsets and trees
instead of writing poems about capitalism,
kids and big karen energy
Life on the BPD 