I wrote this poem in July of 2025.
sometimes I think my sins are the most interesting things about me
Perhaps, that’s why I worship them and keep making poems out of them
Especially when I start to lose faith in myself
especially when I start lose faith in myself and the universe
and fill myself up with self hate and self loathing to crash out fantastically
with pen and paper and write masterpieces
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
Kam Highway would see many changes in our family
three teenagers in one house, our parents were saints
at first we lived in abject poverty
trying to find change in the secondhand couch
for ramen or popcorn chicken or anything
to put food in our tummies
this apartment saw the awkwardness of my adolescence
saw my brother almost fall into the wrong crowd
saw my sister fall in and out of love
until she finally landed her first husband next door
and we had a pizzeria next door and also the interesting neighbors
like the marine next door who beat his unfaithful wife
or Tipper the stripper who was in a toxic relationship with the landlord’s son
their song was Kiss and Say Goodbye by the Manhattans
and the fun thanksgivings with all of the neighbors
I wrote this poem in July of 2025.
my childhood was not easy and at times full of chaos
good to inspire my creativity, one where I never needed
much imagination
since real life served up a lot of telenovela energy
from toxic family dynamics to immigrant trauma
to the ghetto melrose place in hawaii
my childhood felt like a constant barrage of episodes
where the adults couldn’t keep it together
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
I’m paid less than everyone according to the statistics
and it’s simply because of my ethnicity and gender
at times I get mad about this
but then I’m like, it is what it is
and won’t change in the near future
instead I continue to work hard for my and my kids betterment
and try my best to live out my immigrant dream
I wrote this poem in July of 2025.
your lips on mine taste like happiness on steroids
is this what they call joy
is this what they call euphoria
are you the happy ending I’ve searching for
since the age of 15
are you the reason that I want to burn down every poem
inspired by lovers that aren’t yo
I wrote this poem in July of 2025.
one last hit before we have to call it quits
before we have to move on to new love stories
before we have to grow up and forget
our Alice and Peter personas
and try to find something mature, something healthy,
something long lasting
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
I was supposed to have been born in Cuzco
but drama kept me away until I was two
cusco saw me walk for the first time
cusco saw me blossom with the attention and affection
of my family and everyone else
I learned to be happy with the new freedom my legs gave me
but one day that changed when I was four
when the baby sitter hurt me -hurt me for being spoiled
hurt me for having la tez clara
and she gave me a phobia of water
and my resilience created an imaginary friend Calinchia
to help me face and process what happened to me
and eventually blocked my trauma
I wrote this poem in July of 2022.
As a child I naively thought america was the land of the free
it’s the greatest myth sold to everyone
especially to immigrants
as an adult, I found out the truth
American is the land of the free-
but you have to meet certain conditions
1)you have to be white
2)you have to christian
3)you have to be male
and now that I found out about the conditional freedom of America
I’m no longer shocked by its many atrocities
I wrote this poem in July of 2025.
spring love happened unexpectedly
on our first date, he called me his Incan Queen
and sent jolts of electricity though my body
the first time he touched me
and even though it’s too soon to say
if this will be my last chapter in my book
of lust and love and we’re only almost 3 months in
what I can say is that this feel promising, worthy,
and something simply with pure intentions
that feels almost majestic
This is a poem I wrote in July. I was angry when I wrote it. Lol.
celebrating a country that rips babies apart from their parents
and takes away rights from the marginalized
and makes anyone who’s not white and christian feel unwelcome
feels like the cruelest irony
it’s celebrating genocide, racism, prejudice, xenophobia, and white supremacy
it’s celebrating everything atrocious and wrong about this country
it almost feels like a personal violation of my beliefs
to celebrate the hypocrisy of this country
founded on genocide and slavery
who claims liberty and justice for all
but “all” is really white, christian and male
so I’m passing on this year’s 4th of July celebrations
because except for a small portion of Americans
no one can claim true freedom
or independence in this American Land
I wrote this poem in July of 2025.
one day the weight of this burden I carry won’t feel so heavy
and it won’t be so tough to exist in a country that wants to exterminate
people like me or my family,
one day this nightmare will be over and the hypervigilance I’m living
will cease to exist
one day will come unexpectedly and I’ll find my way back to safety
and security
I wrote this poem in June of 2025.
When I’m 54, I want some things to stay the same and others to change
I want to love freely unafraid and unashamed and without apologies
without the anxiety I have right now that one day he’ll leave
I want to have the same creative energy that motivates me,
and continue to share mine and my family’s stories
that will continually be seen and make me succeed
I want to not worry so much if it’s a matter of when this epidemic
of violence and madness reaches someone in my family
or live with the fear one of my loved ones will be detained
I want to have hope for the future of my children and descendents
that when I leave this earth things will be better for them
because I did the work so they didn’t suffer and can enjoy life a bit more
also , I want to be filled with financial stability where I’m not doing financial gymnastics
to pay my bills on time and an no longer a slave to my debt
but mostly when I’m 54, I want to have evolved as a healer
who continues to share her light in this world as a poet, writer, and storyteller
I wrote this poem in June of 2022.
I”m a complete disaster when it comes to love, well, romantic love
but I’m great at other kinds of love
Loving my children, adoring my friends, worshiping my parents
and of course filling myself with self love
but still I wonder if somewhere in this big wide world
exist an almost ideal lover
who’ll bring out my best and love me at my worse
who won’t put me on a pedestal
and doesn’t scare easily and leave
when he sees all of me
I wrote this poem in June of 2025.
Hold onto joy and magic in times like these
pause, breathe, drink water
Remember your existence is resistance
all of that pain, sorrow and grief felt in your body
Alchemized it into poetry, art,a story
or you could just scream and allow it to exist
understand that the oppressors want to overwhelm you
And make you crazy and over react
using it as an excuse to frame you as the enemy
protect your peace at all costs
if someone threatens it, it’s a sign they’ve
handed you a match to light up
and burn their bridge to you
and finally,
Remember, the distress, the exhaustion is intentional
to burn out your light
Don’t let them
I wrote this poem in June of 2025.
dating a soldier in not for the weak in these modern time
especially now with a civil war and WW3 on the horizon
our new love story could be cut short if he’s deployed
Things can get complicated and messy
if end up dehumanizing or ripping apart families like mine
because its his job
it makes me wonder if we were foolish in the throwing caution
to the wind and getting into a relationship
it makes me wonder if we have any chance of working out
Life on the BPD 