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poetry: toxic story

I wrote this poem in February of 2024.

Triggered trauma brings in a spiral of toxic guilt and shame
even if logically I know it’s not my fault
and I was just standing up for myself
I’m still recovering from being a nice girl
I’m still recovering from saying please and thank you
when toxicity was served on a platter of love
I’m still recovering from compromising
my values and my true self
for the comfort of others so they’d stay
I’m still recovering from the most toxic
story I ever told myself when it came
to measuring my worth by how
others judged and perceived me

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poetry: muse

I wrote this poem in February of 2023.

them creative types make me crazy with fantasies and daydreams

what is it about poets and writers I find so attractive
maybe it’s how they play with words
that makes me yearn to become their muse
maybe it’s their expression of passion
that makes them the object of my obsession
maybe it’s because their creativity makes
me want to make poetry with their bodies

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poetry: But you Really hAd some auDacity

this poem is inspired by the 2006 “acknowledgement”.

Poetry: Acknowledgement
should have said sorry, bruh

a wolf in sheep’s clothing got to me
he pretended to be my friend
with endless compliments and fake empathy
Until one day I found out who he really was
a liar ,a psychopath
and I called him out and blocked him
from my universe when he said he didn’t do no wrong
when he said, he just liked his “privacy”
and offered no apologies after a decade long lie
which added to my trust issues
but at least it opened my eyes
enough to kick him out of my life
and while I still make poetry out of him
(he gave me too much material to ignore)
I’m grateful he’s out of my life
life is too short for entitled Brads, Chads,and Kens
who think that just because of their privilege
they can get away with ANYTHING

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poetry: untitled

this poem is inspired by the 2006 poem, “poem for a couple I never knew”

Poetry: A Poem for A Couple I Never Knew
the kind of energy we brought together

many took bets on how long they’d last
between the age gap, the difference in cultures
they didn’t stand a chance
yet, they kind of made it work for more than a decade
yet, they still raised three fine young men for almost 20 years
and while their incompatibility caught up to them
and they had to end their love story
they rebuilt it on the foundation
of the love they once shared
and in the best interest of their children
and evolved into a healthy story of friendship
where any resentment and anger has been buried
and there are no hard feelings over past grievances
where they support one another
and are finally the parents their children
always deserved

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poetry: my favorite customer

this poem was inspired by this silly poem from 2006 called, “A poetic tale”.

Poetry: A Poetic Tale
this is the vibe of this poem..lol

it was another boring night at work
I was stuck on aisle 10 between stocking
and my racing thoughts
a 90s dance song comes on the speaker
and just when I’m about to sing
I heard footsteps behind me
I turned around and there he was-
my favorite customer
5’10 ,curly black hair, full red lips
and a body built by some Greek God
he was looking at pots and pans
I quickly turned my back to stock the tupperware
and sneaked glances and admired him from afar
hoped he didn’t notice me in my Kroger garb
I looked like too much of hot mess to flirt
but still my dead and jaded heart was resuscitated
and my imagination took flight
as fantasies of him surfaced to my mind
and just as I’m imagined our first kiss
he approached me, -OH NO!
of course he asked for a specific type of pan
we didn’t have
I told him no and apologized
in my best customer service voice
and he told me “no worries”
as his voice cracked and walked away quickly
and I wondered, am I imagining things,
or is he also attracted to me?

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poetry: magician

I wrote this poem in January of 2024.

that time I was too distracted thinking about my crush that I had a little fender bender

You must be a magician
because you make me feel things
I’ve shut the door to,
you make me want to write
the most terrible and cringy poems
about love
you must be a magician
because I can’t stop thinking
about you
because even though I said never again
here I am obsessing over another man

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poetry: spam bot

I wrote this poem in January of 2024.

feeling like a spam bot

Reddit wants to make sure I’m real and not a spam bot
and even I ask myself this today
as I feel completely numb
as I feel like my emotions are turned off
And I’m a new kind of mellow
the kind of mellow that’s a zombie
functioning and existing with a stoic demeanor
feeling completely detached from who I truly am
over medicated and toned down
to barely subtle static and white noise
Is this what it’s like to be normal?

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poetry: distress

this poem was inspired by the 2006 poem, “the horsefly stood on her shrug”.

Poetry: The Horsefly Stands on Her Shrug

blankness spills across her pretty face
no distinction between her and the marble
her hands and feet are still
watches herself say the right words
and make the appropriate gestures
nothing makes sense in this moment
rage burns inside of her
she smiles and nods politely
as they talk about the weather

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poetry: algorithm

I wrote this poem in January of 2024.

How long do I have to scroll before the algorithm fucks me up
Before the algorithm makes me feel like I’m not doing enough
before I lose my shit and say “this is bullshit”
and delete all of my social media apps
How long do I have to scroll before the algorithm makes me feel better
before the algorithm starts to validate my existence
Before some random stranger slides into my dms and tells me I’m pretty

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day 9 of Patty : beast

I wrote this poem in September of 2024.

beast, can you handle all of this ?

beast hurry up and come find me
it’s been a year since I’ve been married
two years since I had sex
and three years since I’ve been
in real relationship
I’m a thirsty and horny yearning
to break my vow of celibacy

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day 3 of Patty: mirror, mirror

I wrote this poem in March of 2024.

the only hero I ever needed was me

for almost three years I’ve been waiting for the next guy to appear
as some kind of hero, as some kind of reward for all of my effort
I’ve put into myself and the life I’ve built
Subconsciously I did this
Even as I publicly roared about being empowered on my own
I still wanted someone to be my sanctuary to lay my love in
And I wrote, manifested, schemed, flirted
got obsessed with men who were just meant to be friends
Thinking, gosh, if I hang on long enough, he’ll come around
this might work out
but today I discovered the only hero for me
is the woman in the mirror
who still manages to get out of bed
even on the bad days when she’s too tired to function
when she’s exhausted by all of it

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poetry: browsing for potential on tinder

I wrote this poem in December of 2023.

this is me for real—

I swipe and swipe on anyone who looks appetizing,
on anyone who looks interesting
and then the messages swarm in-
I must be honey to the bees who buzz and buzz around me
and I’m not impressed
Hey, beautiful says the guy with his catch of day
in his profile pic –
Are you DTF? Says the zoomer almost young enough
to be my son-ew-blocked
insert a pretentious line with a quote
From a Wallace Stevens poem ,  it’s the Genxer
who’s gross-ethically non monogamous-
I must not have been paying attention
while I was swiping
And the messages keep coming
And I’m overwhelmed by the amount of them
and underwhelmed by quality of them
and I’m nauseated and want to vomit
at the thought of giving any of these men
an ounce of my energy
maybe a past version of me
would have given them a chance
but this new and empowered version of me
Nah, none of them seem worthy
so I deactivate my profile
and uninstall the app
Understand I’m too evolved to find love online
and put my trust in the universe that one day
The right guy will find me
and I won’t even have to try
and until that time comes,
I’ll keep being an independent Peruvian Queen
Focusing on myself and my kids
without any mediocre energy
trying to intervene

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poetry: sorry for sleeping with your husband

I wrote this poem in December of 2023.

I was barely just surviving- Conan Gray

sorry for sleeping with your husband
I was raised better than to covet my neighbor’s spouse
I knew better than to listen to my impulsive and drunk hormones
and while I could say I was caught up in the moment
of music and alcohol
it’s not an excuse for the sin I committed
it’s a misdeed that I still regret 22 years later
because I hate to think that maybe I was the final straw
that broke up your marriage
because guilt sits at the bottom of my stomach
wondering if I wrecked an otherwise happy home
and ruined an epic love story
and if it eases your mind
karma did get me in the end
I married the wrong person
and suffered through toxic codependency and polyamory
Eventually having a mental breakdown
because of how overwhelming it all got
and ending up divorced with me alone
without any romantic prospects
I learned 22 years too late
what is done secretly and illicitly in the heat of the moment
comes back later to haunt you
comes back to haunt your subconscious in dreams
until you’re ready to acknowledge it and make amends

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poetry: ayahuasca ceremony for $900 in South Carolina

I wrote this poem in December of 2023.

my culture is not up for appropriation, my culture is not up for colonizers to profit off from it
I can hear my ancestors cursing in their graves
haunting white people in their dreams over the atrocity they’re committing
it’s blasphemous to use their most sacred ceremony for the business of “healing”
why must white people in 2023 continue to steal from the indigenous community?
it’s the same white people who forced assimilation on us
the same white people who made us give up our religion and traditions
the same white people who shamed us for our indigenous traits
and the reason I don’t know how to speak quechua today
why can’t the white man stay in his lane instead of trying to profit from our culture
and the insecurities of others
how is it possible that in this day and age
these so called enlightened and elitist whites are still fucking over the indigenous community?

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poetry: no one likes fat girls, the spam bot says

I wrote this poem in December of 2023.

just a girl sucking it in for the camera

even the spambot body shames me
and I hate my body all over again
wanting to eviscerate that pudge
that’s been there since after my first son
hiding the flappy wings of my upper arms
wondering why God gave me my stupid curves
I’m constantly trying to hide
and every excess of skin I see in the mirror
That makes me wish I’d cease to exist
why can’t I be a skinny white girl?
instead of this pudgy mess of a woman
with body dysmorphia
who still uses the scale to determine
her WORTH