poetry: Kam Hwy

I wrote this poem in April of 2024.

me at 12 when I lived in the duplex

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 landlord’s 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

poesΓ­a: ira y furia

escribΓ­ este poema en Marzo de 2024.

yo y mi tacos contra El mundo

la ira y furia de mis antepasados femeninas viven en mi
ellas me visitan en sueΓ±os y me mandan mensajes
que cuentan sus historias, sus verdades aunque duelan,
aunque algunas me llamaran sΓ‘dica y dramΓ‘tica
ellas me inquietan y me dicen
es tiempo de gritar todas las injusticias
y trastornos vividow
que nuestras muertes no han sido en vano
y aunque lloro y trato de ignorar la llamada de la sangre
es inevitable-fui escogida-
para sus venganzas, para sus historias de redenciΓ³n

poetry: sour

I wrote this poem in March of 2024.

me in my irreverent crop top

any idea or notion of romance is lost to me
I’ve tried every which way to make myself appetizing
edible for men to take interest in me, love me
but the story always turns sour
and I’m tired of rejection followed by bouts
of tears and insanity
this spring I will not spend my energy
trying to manifest another fool I’ll get obsessed about
or get caught up in my head and daydreams
this spring I’m going to concentrate
only on my potential that’s yet to bloom
Focus of the world of creativity
that resides within waiting to get out

poetry: nails

this poem was inspired by the 2007 “dreams part 2”

https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=12305

for real

nail on the coffin on the future I wanted
no prince charming
no house with the white picket fence
instead I stare down at the barrel of poverty
trying to find a glimmer of who I used to be
among my many forgotten dreams

poetry: ew, spring

I wrote this poem in March of 2024.

I hate it when I catch myself being unintentionally sweet
It makes me feel vulnerable and weak
It’s almost as if my armor of empowered Queen
is breaking and I can’t allow that to happen
I’ve come too far in my heroine’s journey
to allow romantic daydreams
to disrupt it
And I’m tempted to erase his messages
And block him
It’s not his fault or mine
It’s the faulty wiring in my brain
it causes the logic in me to short circuit
every time I talk to him

poetry: Jesusa

I wrote this poem in March of 2024.

the end of my princess era

you were a dead end street
that I didn’t see until
it unraveled me 
Until it was too late
and I didn’t want to turn around
and kept going
and eventually I crashed
in the most magnificent
and catastrophic of ways
and I burned and burned
until I was ashes
and rose up in the most
spectacular rebirth
anyone had witnessed
since Jesus

poetry: self harm

I wrote this poem in March of 2024.

the kind of toxic energy me and my muse were

being with you was a form of self harm
it was another symptom of my mental illness
It was me living with my unhealed alcoholic daddy issues
it was the worst version of me
trying to find some kind of semblance of love
to fill the void with whatever, even if that love
looked toxic, brought out the worst in me,
berated and assaulted me
still stupidly I went back to you and accepted you
in my life over and over again
even with delusional daydreams in the back of my mind
that if I kept you in my life long enough
eventually you’d change and one day we’d get it right
but all you ever did was disappoint me over and over again
but this last undoing of us is the one
and good riddance for that
because at 43, i’m too fucking old to waste my time
on fuck bois who can’t show an ounce of respect
and dignity

poetry: 2018

I wrote this poem in March of 2024.

I acted a fool in 2018

my morality goes out the window when the madness appears
it’s always a combo of impulsivity and hypersexuality
longing for connection, longing for intimacy
Longing to feel something
other than the emptiness that lies within
It’s a temporary fix as I run away from
my self made prison of stability