poetry: wild, wild west

I wrote this poem in February of 2024.

accurate photo of my wild wild west

it’s the wild wild west inside my head
it’s where my demons decide to come out to play
they dance with traumatic memories
making my fears and insecurities come out to the surface
it’s the wild wild west inside my head
being insane becomes my personality and aesthetic
scaring away any potential love candidates
it’s been a long time since I held someone’s hand
much less been in someone’s bed
It’s the wild wild went inside my head
And I wonder when will the demons get tired and leave
so maybe one day I’m not so jaded
so maybe one day I give someone the chance
to take me out on a date

poesΓ­a: mi cliente favorito

aquΓ­ esta la version en Ingles:

poetry: my favorite customer

era otra noche aburrida en el trabajo
estaba atrapada en la isla diez
entre alma naciendo productos
y mis pensamientos intrusivos
una canciΓ³n de los 90s suena de la altavoz
y cuando voy a cantar
escucho pasos detrΓ‘s de mΓ­
me volteo y Γ©l estΓ‘ allΓ­
mi cliente favorito, 5’10, cabello negro y crespo
labios carnosos y rojos, y un cuerpo hecho
por un dios griego
estaba mirando las ollas y sartenes
me volteΓ³ al revΓ©s para que el no me vea
y mientras amanecΓ­a los tupperware
le echaba miradas furtivas
esperaba que Γ©l no se darΓ­a cuenta
de mi porque estaba hecha toda
un desmadre para coquetear
y mi corazoncito muerto resucitΓ³
y empezΓ³ a volar mi imaginaciΓ³n
con fantasΓ­as de nuestro primer beso
y justo alli
el se me acercΓ³ y pensΓ©, β€œhay dios mio”
claro que me pregunto por una olla
que no teniamos
le dije que β€œno” y me disculpe
el me contesto β€œno paso nada”
con su voz quebrada
y rapido se fue
y me pregunte, β€œestoy alucinando
pero se me hace que el tambiΓ©n esta atraido a mi”

poetry: who am i?

I wrote this poem in February of 2024.

me at 13

love ties me up and binds with a rope of shame
slowly I fade away until I’m nothing
I don’t recognize who I am
Friends tell me I’ve changed
I tell them they’re crazy
messages appear in dreams
I’m living a fake life
who am i? who am i? who am i?

poetry: purpose

I wrote this poem in January of 2024.

that cabinet also brings purpose to my life- it holds almost all of my stories

Open mics, family, karaoke nights, dance parties,
Tarot readings, poems written on sticky notes,
Epiphany after epiphany about how I have always been worthy,
Long conversation about life in coffee shops,
Trips to my dad’s hometown, sharing silly verses with friends
making dumb videos, coffee cups that say main character energy
dancing in car while I drive, taking picture of the moon
and everything else that brings me joy,
and every single experienced Ive lived,
every single person I’ve loved
is what my life’s purpose is about
It’s joy,hate, love, anger, empathy, envy
it all brings purpose to my wretched everyday
existence

poetry: shadows

I wrote this poem in January of 2024.

true story

Shadows of past sorrows came to visit me tonight
they were triggered by that Taylor swift song on vinyl
I poured myself some Hennessy to cope
made a toast to what could have beens
as tears fall on my paper trying to understand
the journey is sometimes shitty and full of nails
I had to step to get here
on the other side of madness and chaotic living
Living life intentionally and no longer just for the moment

poetry: bridging the gaps

I wrote this poem in January of 2024.

manifesting that one day my book will be here

In bridging the gaps of my story that have remained unresolved
every story, every poem leads to pieces of healing and closure
I’ve been desperately search for since I can remember
Whatever my child self , my teenage self couldn’t voice back then
My middle age self brings to the surface
and while at times it’s difficult and terrifying
it’s needed in the process of healing and evolving

poesΓ­a: amor a la primera vista

here’s the English version of this poem:

congelada en su familiaridad
atrapada en la traiciΓ³n lenta de su cuerpo
aburrimiento y soledad le abrazaban
como un amante
se ahoga en su sollozos y olvidada
por casi todos sus seres queridos
su mundo estancado en silencio
hasta que lo vio
con ojos chinitos y azules como ella
y piel arrugada como las sabanas
de amantes
era una visiΓ³n horrorosa
pero para sus ojos cansados de ella
era una explosion de alegrΓ­a
su ΓΊltima adoraciΓ³n
su ΓΊltimo suspiro de vida
ella acababa con su aroma de pureza
el comenzaba con el olor viejo de experiencia

poesΓ­a: luz

EscribΓ­ este poema en enero de 2024.

quizΓ‘s algΓΊn dΓ­a

trato de bajar la luz en mis ojos cuando estoy contigo
y no muestro todo lo que siento por ti
no te quiero asustar, no quiero que te vayas de mi vida
Entonces juego mi rol de ser tu amiga
fingiendo inocencia y intenciones puras
cuando conversamos de todo y nada de la vida

poesΓ­a: utopia

here’s the English version of this poem:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=11706

llΓ©vame a recorrido de tu utopΓ­a
del cual tu siempre hablas
el sitio donde no hay trastornos
Mentales
donde todos nos quedamos dormidos
sin la necesidad de tranquilizantes
el cual a todos se le tratan con respeto
y son celebrados por ser diferentes
y no son marginados
o insultados

poetry: utopia

this poem is inspired by the 2006, “let’s go to your store”

utopia according to AI

take me on a tour of your utopia
the one you always talk about
the one where mental illness doesn’t exist
and we all go to sleep without the need
of meds and sleepytime tea
the one where everyone is respected
and being different is celebrated
and not used as fodder for insults or war

poetry: are you?

I wrote this poem in January of 2024.

are you ?

you donate to endless non profits, sit on boards of organizations
that want to bridge communities together,
you volunteer at the soup kitchen or as a mentor
for underprivileged at risk kids
you share your stories of trauma
and you do all of this telling yourself
I want to help others
I want to be a healing light
this cesspool of a world desperately needs
and despite dozens of explanations
I’ll ask you
are you doing it to help others
or are you doing it to fuel your ego?
are you doing out of the purest of intentions
to make a difference
or to make yourself feel better
about your mediocre first world privilege existence?

poesΓ­a: mΓ‘rmol

here’s the English version of this poem:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=11693

no hay diferencia entre ella y mΓ‘rmol
sus manos y pies quedan quietos
y ella hace los gestos apropiados
aunque nada tiene sentido
en este momento
lleva un volcΓ‘n de ira guardado
dentro de ella
mientras hablaban sobre tonterΓ­as
y ella lleva una sonrisa falsa
en su cara

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?

poetry: distress

this poem was inspired by the 2006 poem, “the horsefly stood 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

poetry: downpour

I wrote this poem in January of 2024.

I’m insane, what can I say

the downpour from this morning made me uber emotional
driving through a flood, trying to not lose control of my car
and with God by my side and Olivia Rodrigo on the radio I made it to work
the downpour didn’t stop
and my coworker mentioned it was an upside world when the morning
looks like evening
and the dreadful weather triggered the on switch to my depression
and out pours the thoughts about grief and death
the downpour of my emotions started and nothing could stop it