Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: dystopian clusterfuck

I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

to be honest

me and my family have immigration jokes for day on end
and some of my friends think that’s sick and awful
but its one of the only things
that helps me and my family keep our sanity
in Trump’s American is making fun of our misery and misfortune

it’s how we’ve survived generations of corrupt governments
and wannabe dictators
its how we’ve passed resilience and strength to future generations

sure, we may cry at first as the life we’ve worked hard for
starts falling apart and our plans for the future are shattered
because of a few megarich and corrupt maga idiots
who run our government
but right after we wipe our tears and break out in jokes
and laughter
especially now that what’s supposed to be the land of the free
gets more and more fascist
and we swim closer and closer to nazi waters
the only thing we can do is try to find a way to smile, to laugh,
to find a bit of joy no matter how fucked up in may seem
in this dystopian clusterfuck

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: next time

I wrote this poem in February of 2022.

next time, next time, next time
I won’t live in the should haves,
could haves, would haves

next time, next time, next time
I’ll live in my present
and not in my past or future

next time, next time, next time
I won’t feel useless, worthless
or like I’m not enough

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: criminal

I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

my face after I wrote this poem

rose gold cross ripped from her neck
handcuffs cutting into her smalls wrists
mami and papi can’t explain why
they’re nowhere to be found
she thought officers were supposed to be good people
but they hurl insults at her and call her a criminal
and at 10 she can hardly grasped
the severity of the situation
they tell her over and over again
“we’re taking you back to where you came from”
and it’s beyond her compression
because her birth certificate says Illinois
because America is the only home she’s ever known

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: the fairy tale died that day

I wrote this poem in February of 2022.

I’m pregnant, it’s yours, I want to keep it
I start crying
“Just get rid of it you tell me
he fairytale died that day

I’m at your apartment drunk
And you;re drunk, we fight, then we kiss
And you take me in-but then you feel guilt
And kick me out I
The fairytale died that day

I’m at your apartment
I want to hold you and kiss you
I yearn for you
You imply I can’t be trusted
The fairytale died that day

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: don’t fall in love with me

I wrote this poem in February of 2022.

Don’t fall in love with me he said to me
right after he got off from me
he wanted to make sure I didn’t get the wrong idea
So he dotted his I’s and T’s of casual fucking
And I didn’t go into a love hysteria
But it was already too late
My intense emotions couldn’t wait
“I love him, he’s my love king”
I was already thinking
the truth is
No one can control a borderline’s mind
And it’s not his fault of mine
that I catch feelings easily
even when you use me sexually
It won’t matter what you say
My mind won’t be swayed

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: so resilient

I wrote this poem in February of 2025.

Diseased hip evicted, shiny aluminum to replace it
6 inch scar needed to better my life
80 minutes of the Drs doing their magic
Cutting into me and making me whole
a recovery period of 6 weeks or so they say
third time trying to fix my hip
hopefully the third time  is a charm
all of this just for being born broken,
Damaged and different

everyone admires my strength and resilience
and all I dream about is one day not being defined
by everything I’ve had to overcome,
of ne day not being called resilient
and being seen as more than the turmoil
I’ve had to endure and over come

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: mason

I wrote this poem in January of 2022.

oh Mason

Mason like the jar was his name
being a fuckboy was his game
He tried to act wise beyond his 23 years
But he was still wet behind his ears
He thought he could deceive me
and lies and lies and lies he told me
told me he lived with a roommate
when it was really his soul mate
He wanted his ice cream and cake
but I saw through his con game
And right away I stopped our lust filled affair
My respect I needed to firmly declare

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: nobody knew

I wrote this poem in January of 2022.

Let's love ourselves first
We should love ourselves first

Nobody knew about our sexcapade
You were a temporary escape
From the emptiness and loneliness
I felt in my suburban adolescence

Nobody knew about me and you
Until I could no longer hide
the living creature inside

Nobody knew about me and you
Until my belly grew and grew
And half of it was you

Nobody knew about our short fling
Until one day I had to sing
I’m pregnant with a stranger’s baby
No,he’ll never be the one or even a maybe

Posted on by pattytacuri

poesía: nunca

escribí poema en enero del 2025.

aceptando ESTA realidad fue dura

nunca será la mujer de tu vida y me toca aceptar esta realidad
que alguien como tu siempre me mirara como alguien común
y nunca pensarás que quizás soy algo más que una mujer bella
nunca notaras que soy el fuego de inspiración que puede ser tu musa

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: getting to reality

I wrote this poem in January of 2022.

self love is sexy

I fall in love easily
Reckless without abandon
Wanting to give him
My everything
This is my fairytale
I am sixteen

I fall in love with caution,
with time, with patience
with acceptance
Wanting to give him
My forever
This is my fairytale
I am 23

I fall in love immediately
Impulsively, sexually
Wanting to give him a love
he’s never known before
This is my fairy tale
I am 37

I fall in love with laughter,
With dancing, with practicality
I want to give him my life
This is my fairytale
I am 39

I fall in love with my body
With my creativity, with my resilience
I want to pour all the love I have
Into myself
I am 40
This is my reality

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: he’s praying for me

I wrote this poem in January of 2022.

Quote about self love
Choosing yourself is self love

My former lover prays for me because I won’t fuck him
Is this how it feels like to change my story from on call whore
to an I’m healing and deserve better “Woman
Is this how it feels like to to go from fun girl to healthy woman
I use to measure my worth by who loved me or who wanted to fuck me
but those days of impulsivity and “hey, this will be fun”
are long gone
Now are the days of painful transformations,therapy worksheets, self reflection
and most importantly self love
So I put away my sexy vixen persona
And I put on my ” “I’m authentic without apologies persona”
I’ve stopped living to please others
and now live to please myself

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poetry: Sanity

I wrote this poem in January of 2018 .

me in 2018 around the time I wrote this poem

I’m disappointed once again -being here with you
You represent everything I thought I wanted
But-
You don’t compare to him
You make my body sing with pleasure
but don’t sweep up the mess that I am
You are there to help me escape
but never to rescue me
SO I choose him
Who chooses to be there for me
When I chase death in a bathtub or a bottle
Because while sex and lust feels good
when it’s happening
It doesn’t compare to the love
and support he’s provided in keeping me alive
So I say goodbye to a life
Full of lust filled fantasies
and accept the one and only who truly
cares for me