I wrote this poem in December of 2024.
lighting hits me and I’m in love all over again
this time I take my vows seriously
this time I believe in the whole
“til death do us part” bit
this time it’s far from perfect and ideal
but for once in my life
we’re enough for each other
and there are no seconds thoughts
that this is true love
I wrote this in December of 2021.
I want to find my way to forgiveness
instead I’m covered in hate
I want to find my way to kindness
instead of being stuck in this
cage of anger and rage
I want true radical acceptance
instead of being a victim to my
black and white thinking
I want to be full of Zen
Instead of being full of insecurity
I want a stable sense of identity
instead of this constant confusion about who I am
I want to write about happiness and joy
instead of filling up my pages with petty pouts
I wrote this poem in December of 2023.
the more I disconnected from motherhood and compartmentalize my life
the more damage I did to myself and others
taking accountability and bonding with my children
is necessary for healing
I wrote this poem in December of 2024.
ceo assassin come find me, I bet you’re a crazy communist who can match my bpd and bipolar energy
you leave me breathless with an insatiable sexual hunger to make magic between my sheets
ceo assassin come find me, let’s run away together from this capitalistic bullshit society
and form our own version of utopia
one where universal healthcare is a real thing, one where no one has to work 60 hour weeks to make ends meet, one where we are working to live and not living to work
ceo assassin come find me, I don’t care that you’re on the most wanted list,
I don’t care that they call you a murderous psychopath
all I can see in front of me is divine masculinity and bravery who’s fucking tired
of the trickle down economics false narrative this consumerist society conditions us to believe
and i, more than other people understand you perfectly
I can’t recall how many times I, too have found myself in a murderous rage wanting to turn
to violence to make my working class anger heard and seen to send a message
to the haves and the heathers, karens, chads, and brads of the world
fuck you and your vacations, your teslas, and your brand name clothing while the rest of us
have to settle for crumbs of the American Dream
ceo assassin come find me, between your anger and mine combined, it could be the match
that ignites an entire revolution not just against those who deny our insurance claims
but also going against the 1 percent who deny us the freedom to just exist without worrying
about how to make it in this consumeristic society and parasitic world without going crazy
I wrote this poem in December of 2023.
your boundaries are clear as spring water
I heard them between the gaps of silence
in our texts
you don’t want to encourage any attention from me
or send mixed messages
so instead, you don’t answer or initiate any conversations
and I don’t blame you for this-
After all, I am batshit crazy, I wouldn’t date me either
so I will no longer bother you
I’ll leave you alone
respect the professional boundaries and walls
you have erected
Take this as another sign from the universe
I’m still too damaged for another chance at love
I wrote this poem in December of 2023.
not sure when a new muse will appear
I just gave up on my most recent one
I can take a hint
he’s not interested
he’s scared because I’m too crazy
and will fuck up his life
and maybe he’s right
maybe I’m not healed enough,
not intelligent enough
maybe for him I’m just not enough
and this doesn’t make me angry
I’m in the acceptance phase
I’ll no longer bother him
I’ll just let him be
I’ll just wait for a new muse to appear
out of nowhere from my dreams
into my real life
my manifestation game is strong
though sometimes my aim is off
I wrote this poem in December of 2024.
Sometimes I miss our rollercoaster of toxicity
even when you came back to me sober
you still managed to emotionally dysregulate me
and destroy me
and while I’ve tried to find a replacement for you
no one holds a candle to you
no one brings me the level of excitement you once did
everyone feels meh and blah
compared to you, everyone is mediocre
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
Like shipwrecks in a cavern, somehow we came together
putting bandaids of lust to sooth and cover our loneliness
causing chaos and rejecting each other
only to always come back to each other
and it was entertaining for a while
until we both realized it was a waste of time and energy
and fled to different caverns
I wrote this poem in December of 2022.
I called you my mr.wrong for a long time and hated myself for loving you-
I knew we weren’t heading anywhere-
you were the complete opposite of me
but connection and chemistry kept me returning to you
Even though I knew one day we’d end
and one day came when we both got sick of our constant toxicity
and shut down our whatevership
And while I know it was for the best and we never wanted the same things-
last night I dreamed of you coming to my house
and sneaking into my bed
And I wonder if part of my subconscious still misses you
escribí este poema en diciembre del 2024.
magneto y locomía sale de la tele
mi tío me llamaba su condesita y mi tía me llamaba linda
y me río porque últimamente me siento como una extraña en mi cuerpo
y mami y sus hermanas me dicen que me estoy volviendo una señorita
pero lo único que veo es un monstruo fea y gorda en el espejo
y quisiera ser delgadita y fina como mis primas
pero por lo menos mi tío y mi tía no me miran así
me miran como un tesoro bello y valioso
I wrote this poem in December of 2021
I met him outside on a hot July night
he was everything I was not looking for
but it was a devastatingly short fall
and then I was lost in him
and everything I wanted him to be
It wasn’t fair to him or I
expectations that were sky high
with him I wanted everything
but he wasn’t ready to be my love king
Perhaps he was just a preview
for a future love dream come true
I wrote this poem in December of 2024.
radical self compassion and grace falls from my life
as thoughts of crashing my car unintentionally come to the surface of my mind
but this happens every year in early december
the old me from 2016 still wants to be heard and seen
the trauma from her is visiting me mixed with winter and PMDD
and lack of sleep makes me feel incompetent and unworthy of existing
but I resist and resist thoughts of self harm and despair
there is still too much life left in me and besides it’s one bad day out of many
Tomorrow, tomorrow, is another day, another sunrise, another sunset
another brand new beginning
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
desperation and despair sounds like a former friend
calling me out of the blue,
asking me for numbers of drug dealers I used to know
saying it’s a matter of life and death
in shock, I tell him I’m a different person
from who he used to know
I couldn’t help him-the call ends-
I’m no longer the person he used to know
I finally understand my value and worth
I wrote this poem in November of 2024.
there will be no more lamentations for what was once
scattered across my journals and notebooks
from now on, I hold my head up high
and look towards the sky
I wrote this poem in November of 2022.
I wouldn’t visit your grave a second time once you died
you’re not worth my time, you’re not worth my energy
I’d already would be forced to say my goodbyes at your passing
due to our familial connections
and I want to be respectful to my sister and nephews
but after that I never want to think about you again
with your death
I want to bury the harm done-the trauma you caused and move on
Life on the BPD 