Napowrimo day 16
Napowrimo day 15
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Napowrimo Day 13
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poetry: ancestor, ancestor
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
ancestor, ancestor-
which alcohol goes best with making shitty life decisions
ancestors says, not the PBR, not the michelob ultra light, it’s too basic of an energy
for the kind of epic shitty life decisions you tend to make
don’t reach for the margarita wine either, too obvious, too much of a cliche
and you already have plenty of them in your poetry
Go for the Guiness six pack
make your shitty life decisions with some English class
since most of your terrible decisions tend to include some asshole
whose ancestors are colonizer Englishmen
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Napowrimo day 12
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poetry: pirate party
I wrote this poem in April of 2024.
sultry July night at a pirate party
fiery red Dionysian hair, body made by Gods
caught his eye from a distance
he wanted her, he craved her, he wanted to fuck her
he approached her
right away she saw through his toxic fuck boi vibe
Said “no thanks”
and introduced him to me
I was already 3 drinks in, mesmerized by his body
Covered in tattoos from head to toe, his boyish smile
felt an electric energy between us (or maybe that was
the buzz from my third margarita)
he’s the sexiest man I’ve ever seen, I WANT THIS BAD BOY!
within a few minutes, we assessed each other and flirted
he asked me for my phone number, giddy, I gave it to him
and that was the beginning of the end of me
and almost 6 years later, my friend still says,
“Sorry, I introduced you to him”
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Napowrimo day 7
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poetry: UGA
this poem is inspired by the 2007 poem “small”
can’t blend in with this privileged world
wrong age, wrong last name, wrong ethnicity
I stand destined for failure
on this institutions steps
as the pressure to succeeds hang around me
like a noose around my neck
and yet I still keep going
and show up every day
if only to teach my kids a lesson
in how to keep going when you want to quit
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poetry: girl in the mirror
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
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 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: the script
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
last time I had my last first kiss
it was wasted on a middle age scorpio
I wore a cute summer dress with red lipstick
along with my feminine charm
I didn’t have to lay it on thick for him to desire me
for him to want to kiss me
he would’ve fuck me I hadn’t been on my period
his hands roamed almost every inch of my body
as if it belong to him for the 5 minutes we made out
while I dissociated and pretended I was somewhere else
I was numb and devoid of feeling anything
Am I even a person?
He said things about how I was so hot and sexy
and how sad it was that couldn’t screw me
And I laughed flirtatiously following the script
I’ve had since I could remember
and I felt no desire or any pleasure
if anything I was repulsed
by him, by myself
hating how even at 40,
I was still pulling the same bullshit since I was 16
making myself an object of desire for me to play with
and then something snapped in me that day
a couple of hours after that date
I sent him a snap along with all the other 7 dudes
I was entertaining and keeping as options
the same message,
“I’m sorry, I’m not in a place to date or even
to have men as friends, I wish you the best”
it was hard as I had always been addicted
to men’s attention and validation
but something told me it was time
to switch the narrative
even though I knew it would be lonely
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poesía: colorin colorado
escribí este poema en marzo de 2024.
era tiempo de convertimos en extraños y esta vez para siempre
No había más vueltas que dar o mas capítulos de nuestra historia
que escribir
Aceptar que ya nunca más seremos fue el favor más grande que nos hicimos
Ojala que esta vez seamos extraños para siempre
porque siendo algo más siempre nos causa un daño y conflicto
interno
Ojala que esta vez seamos como el fin del cuento que mi papá me contaba
cuando era niña,
“Colorin colorado nuestro cuento se ha acabado”
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poetry: self harm
I wrote this poem in March of 2024.
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
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poetry: puzzle
this poem is inspired by the 2007 poem “fence”
for a while you were an a puzzle to me
always so mysterious
always so guarded
never talked about your past
even as I overshared my trauma
and while it got tiring
I still kept on trying to get you to open up
my mami didn’t raise a quitter
but nothing I did ever worked
you could never bring yourself
to be vulnerable
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poetry: wave
this poem was inspired by the 2007 poem nostalgia.
a wave of nostalgia hits me
and I almost drown in memories
it takes everything in me
to stay grounded in my present
it takes everything in me
to not allow my trauma
to cloud the life I’m currently
trying to build
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poetry: the last piece
I wrote this poem in February of 2024.
I scream watching the dominoes fall once again
I don’t know who I am
I want to be this version of myself a while longer
ideally forever
but the universe has other plans
she laughs and says
“Honey, he wasn’t the one”
and I’m pissed and lose my shit
go crazy for weeks, that turn into months
that turn into a year
until 13 months later
mama killa comes to me revealing
the last piece I needed to form a stable identity
and sends me back to my homeland
where I recover hidden bits of myself
and laugh like a child once again
where I’m reunited with the mountains,
coast, and the city
where the universe tells me
“I told you so, you couldn’t have done this
with him by your side dimming your light,
you needed to be alone to embrace your magic
And find your real identity under layers
of american conditioning
and reconnect with your homeland,
it was the most important part
in your heroine’s journey to integration
Life on the BPD 