Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: post holiday blues

I wrote this poem in January of 2023.

existing is embarrassing,bruh

I can tell when my depression is getting the better of me
I uninstall most of my social media apps-
Start isolating from friends and family-
dissociate to whatever sad songs I have on repeat
Today’s music is Jojo and Taylor Swift
and I write anything and everything that comes into my head
about what has been or is my current tragedy
it’s almost comedic how dramatic I can
On days like these I feel too sensitive for this world
everything burns, everything is a trigger
and I almost hate myself and fall back into self destructive patterns
Seek out validation of my existence from others
it would be so easy to reach out and get help
but today, I want to fully feel my misery as it takes over me
let it speak in my writing
Me, my music, my paper and pen is all I need to get through
this latest depression spell

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: delusional

I wrote this poem in December of 2022.

truth be told…lol

I could be the poster child for love fiascos-
I love too fast, and too hard-
I’m the fool of the tarot
risking everything even my sanity for love-
getting caught up in feelings and magic
being delusional that somehow it could work out
even when the red flags scream at me-
I say fuck it-I switch off the logic button in me
and go all in

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: private thing

I wrote this poem in December of 2022.

pouty Pisces

This time it will be different-I lie to myself over and over again-
and for a while I’ll believe it-but it never works out and they always leave-
And I wonder how words fail me when this happens-
it’s a magnitude of emotions-
Intense, mega, uber, all consuming, overwhelming-
Some things cannot adequately expressed even with bilingual vocabulary-
maybe not everything is meant to be written down
it’s just meant to be felt, held intimately in my heart and mind
maybe it’s a private thing between me and the universe

Posted on by pattytacuri · 3 Comments

poetry: sacred space

I wrote this poem in December of 2022.

I probably just got done crying right before this pic was taken

In my car-I scream, sing, write, and cry
I dissociate to my radio-blasting out Conan Gray
I can be as crazy I as want to be-
without the fear of being judged or talked about
the seat is molded to my petite frame
perfect for meditation
or for allowing myself to fall into my insanity
makes videos about how beautiful life is-
or how I no longer want to participate in it
my car used to feed into my deepest fears
and insecurities
but now I worship it
if it wasn’t for this sacred space away
from my office and home
I don’t know how I would cope
when the intensity of my thoughts
knock on my mind’s door

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

poetry: when I tell our story

I wrote this poem in December of 2022.

I’ll pay tribute to the woman in the yellow dress

fragments of who I was weave in and out of my prose and poetry-
I keep trying to honor the old me
when she comes back with my insecurities
and reminds me of how I constantly screw up anything
resembling love
I no longer shame her or call her the worst version of me-
she was just trying to navigate life not understanding
she was an undiagnosed hurricane of emotions-
that couldn’t control or manage
She didn’t go to therapy or know about DBT
And she’s still full of grief for the life she couldn’t live-
so she keeps on showing up trying to shake up
my newfound confidence and power
it’s her version of jealousy, and I walk with her for a while
Console her, and let her know how because of her
I did the work, and now she can feel happiness and joy through me
I will forever be grateful to her and pay tribute to her when I tell her story

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: raising my standards

I wrote this poem in December of 2022.

blocked more clowns in 2023 than I care to count

I’m tired of same repetitive compliments
You’re so pretty, so sexy and if they’re really “trying”
you’re BEAUTIFUL
but never in my life
have i been call a masterpiece, intelligent,
or have I been told that I inspire poetry?
and old lonely me would entertain
these flimsy lust or love possibilities
kept my standards low to keep my bed warm
and to escape my chronic emptiness
but after almost a year of solitude
my standards have been raised to the ceiling
and now I’m protective of my energy
anyone who wants to get near me
will have to make a solid effort
write me poetry, take me out to steak dinners
and buy me pretty dresses and notebooks

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: this poem could be about any of my exes

I wrote this poem in December of 2022.

I’m the hottest and the craziest…lol

It wasn’t that I wouldn’t have done the work-
I loved you more than enough to change, to accommodate
to make compromises, to share my vulnerability with you
but you weren’t ready to match my efforts
and love only grows when two people are ready to evolve

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: bet

I wrote this poem in December of 2022.

I never mind being called the “crazy ex”

I bet now months go by and he never thinks of me-
maybe he does when he sees a crazy bitch on his feed
he’ll remember me for a moment
and think “damn, I dodged a bullet”
and then he’ll scroll on to something else
that’s way more interesting

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: you’re so sensitive

I wrote this poem in December of 2022.

poor kid-she deserved better

I grew up too quickly in some areas and remained a child in others –
it’s a truth that I hate to admit
it wasn’t my parents’ fault
they did the best with what they had –
an extra sensitive child with medical issues
it was too much for them to handle
when they were trying their best to keep their own heads above water
there was no extra time for the extra needs and demands I had
and while middle age holds space to have compassion for them
I still need to reparent my inner child
who comes out in the most inoportune of time
and has caused terrible havoc and harmed others
but it’s not her fault or mine
It happens sometimes, and now I’m taking the time
to nurture her so she can finally grow up

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: I’m a fucking delight

I wrote this poem in December of 2022.

I’m okay…just let me turn my pain into art

I try my best to take delight in my life and enjoy everything good
but fuck it, if I have to be honest with myself-
sometimes the depression gets the best of me
and I drink and write sad and pathetic things
about how I want to cut my wrists and watch the blood leave my body
maybe I’m just embracing the cliche of being a tortured artist
or my darkness needs a place to fucking go-
at least I’m now acknowledging it instead of suppressing it-
and I almost spiral into a cycle of self loathing
but instead say “fuck it- this is who I fucking am sometimes”-
An emo girl caught up in her trauma and hormones-
Wait-how did this poem turn into–
Oh yeah-the prompt delight
well whatever this is its the best drunk and depressed me has to give
to my creativity tonight

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: Counterfeit

I wrote this poem inspired by a coworker who pretended to be my friend while stabbing me in the back. She also gaslighted me about the whole situation when I confronted her. She also accused me of neglecting my oldest son when I went back to college and told me, “you be like other Hispanics and just work hard” . I left this workplace shortly after. All I can say is don’t trust March Pisces from Gainesville. Lol.

honestly tho, Merissa-this one’s for you

with this pen in my hand your reputation I’ll disband
20 years later, it might seem like an overreaction
but the trauma you cause still causes me turmoil
it’s time to let the the world know
what kind of person you really are
pretending to be my friend and have my best interests at heart
but behind my back you made me the subject of gossip among our colleagues
and this almost broke me apart and caused deep seated racial trauma
Were you jealous of me or were you projecting your insecurities?
I hope one day everyone sees past your bullshit
And realizes you’re the biggest counterfeit

2004

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: comparisons

aqui esta la versión en español:

poesía: mi nueva felicidad

let me sabotage this new relationship by comparing him to my ex-
the one I still write poems about, the one who still visits me in my dreams
the one who wouldn’t leave his wife or other lovers for me-
my new boyfriend treats me with respect and is such a calm guy
my friends tell me this is healthy but I find it boring
I miss being last on someone’s list
I miss being treated as an afterthought
I miss the inner chaos and conflict that came from the uncertainty
of not knowing if my lover was sure of me-

Posted on by pattytacuri

poetry: integration

I wrote this poem in October of 2022.

ready to get to integration


The scared and anxious little girl and the insecure and clingy woman tug at me-
I try to avoid them and lock them up in a box, but it never happens that way
They refuse to go away when a trigger of trauma visits me
And once again, I am lost in the alter ego I made up to protect myself
the one who shows up in confidence and screams through her poetry
but if I want to reach integration
I need to allow the little girl and the insecure woman space to reside within me
and honor them with powerful words of praise
because they, too, were part of my strength and resilience through the many traumas
It may feel painful at times-but for me to get to become a whole person
and reach emotional maturity – I need to walk hand in hand with the ones
who made me the powerful and confident woman I currently am

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

Another One

Bpd life be like…

What’s something most people don’t know about you?

trying to avoid self-destruction. I do everything in my coping toolkit
and since nothing works
I just allow myself to feel-allow my inner critic to win for a bit
I can’t keep fighting my negative thoughts –
they need to be heard and acknowledge
my fears who feed my anxiety telling me I’m crazy
and I’ll never be worthy of anyone
and I listen and cry to my bully within
I allow her to keep going until she starts getting tired
and slowly, I shut her out
at least for a while until another depressive spell happens

10/10/22