I wrote this poem in June of 2024.

lately I hate everything I have written
Sometimes I get the urge to burn
Or delete everything
but something tells me
this is how I know Iβm growing
Iβm evolving in my craft
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.

I keep trying to manifest the one worthy of me
but Iβm starting to think he doesnβt exist
I swipe and swipe on the dating apps
but no one is of interest to me
and so I find solace in an unrequited love
that will never be more than friendship
itβs the best I can do to quell the romantic in me
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.

my body feels like a rundown shack
that’s crumbling down slowly
I canβt get up in the morning
without my knee or hip
bitching and moaning
without me groaning in pain
and mumbling to myself
βOmg, another stupid dayβ
and cursing my genetics
that make me watch everything
I eat
and again I wonder
am I paying a karmic debt
for my colonizer ancestors
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.

my dreamy pisces energy has gotten me in more trouble
than it was worth
always viewing things in extremes
always making devils and angels out of people
who are really just mortals
my dreamy pisces energy is either my biggest curse
or my biggest blessing depending on the season,
the weather or the day
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.

everyone I meet wants to fix me
my hair is wild and indomitable
my grammar is atrocious
my laugh is too loud
and we canβt forget about my crooked teeth
and while most of them mean well
I wonder whatβs so wrong with me
that people always fixate on my flaws
I wrote this poem in June of 2024.

I hope this story is buried for a final time
and you donβt pop up again
and I have to play whack an asshole
once again
blocking you on yet another platform
would the universe be kind enough this time
for it to be good riddance forever
cause Iβm tired of my past mistakes
to constantly come out of nowhere
to disturb my present
I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

for once I want to be missed, for once I want to be remembered
for once I want to feel valuable and worth effort
but itβs a fantasy I need to let go of
itβs a dream that will never come true
itβs time to grow up and plant my feet firmly on the ground
acknowledge my worth and hold onto my pride and dignity
and stop chasing delusions and daydreams
aside for all of the inspiration
itβs never gotten me anywhere
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.

I hold onto my should haves for old times sake
to inspire the poet out of me
should have hugged him a few moments longer
the other night so heβd get a hint of how I felt
should have broken up with him in spring
after that email
should have cut ties with him in the summer
the first time he kicked me out of his apartment
should have divorced him the winter
after I tried to die
should have, should have, should have
so many of them could have prevented
some emotional disasters, earthquakes
that broke my core
but then again, should haves have inspired
1001 poems and stories in my tome of lust and love


I wrote this poem in April of 2024.

thereβs a song I listen to when I know Iβm truly fucked
when I know I have feelings for someone
when I get that sinking wave of romance in my gut
that makes me want to vomit and swim
in an ocean of anxiety
and like the sentimental poet that I am
I wonβt tell you what that song is
but Iβll give you a hint
itβs the cover of a 70βs love song
by Will to the Power
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.

ramen 3 times a day in the dingy 2 bedroom duplex
and it was an upgrade from the miniature apartment
in mid city L.A
the one where there was a bullet hole in my window
so what if the stripper and the landlordβs son
got in screaming matches
so what if the marine next to us beat his wife
weekly for her infidelity
despite the poverty experienced, despite the trashy
and toxic domestic energy
that dingy duplex was freedom to me and my family
it was hope and salvation from the nightmare
of indentured servitude L.A had been
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.

mami dressed me up in ruffles and pastels whenever she could
Iβd swirled and twirled in my dress until I got dizzy
loved when everyone told me, βay que bonita te mirasβ
and I awkwardly bowed, smiled, and hid
sashayed to every single one of my relatives
and did the same thing
itβs one of the few times I remembered being vain as a child
one of the few times I didnβt feel weird and like an outcast
external validation learned at the tender age of 8