poetry: NSA Telepathic Sex

I wrote this poem in August 2023.

maybe my alien will bring this kind of romantic energy

I’m curious about the aliens on earth
and if they’re into NSA, telepathic sex
the kind where I get to lie down
and sleep, and they come into my dreams
and make me have multiple orgasms
Over and over again
perhaps these are crazy thoughts
from a middle-aged woman
who’s been celibate for more than a year
And is oh so thirsty for intimacy
but can’t stand the thought of a man
getting near me
it makes me want to vomit
at this point I’d take some extra terrestrial
Out of the universe sex without any feelings involved
the kind that fixes my craving for connection
and intimacy
the kind that doesn’t bring me another episode
of psychosis

poetry: anything

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

guy holding the fish in his profile pic, come find me

anything resembling love threatens the home I’ve built
over the past two years
and yet the romantic threads in me won’t disappear
they want to weave another love story
they want to be pulled into the magic to getting know
someone new
and having arms to call home

poetry: tradition not kept

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

me with my oldest in August of 2023

Children should be seen, and not heard is one tradition I’ll never keep
It would mean invalidating my children’s feelings
It would mean for them to have years of therapy trying to find their sense of identity
It would mean to reduce them to shadows who only speak when spoken to
It would mean passing them the torch of a generational curse that makes them question their self-worth over and over again
So everyone can judge me or criticize my parenting all they want
I like my children to not just be seen but also heard
even if it’s sometimes loud and boisterous
even if it sometimes sounds disrespectful
It’s important for their emotional growth, for their confidence
and to break and heal the generational curse where children are silenced

poetry: could we have done more?

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

ai generated art

could we have done more?
could his story have had a different ending?
could we have all been more compassionate-
more open instead of entrenched and absorbed in our own worlds?
all of these questions are asked, days or week or even months
later, wondering-if we carry any blame or responsibility
when someone ends their life with their own two hands

poesΓ­a: agua

here’s the English version of this poem:

poetry: short circuit

tuvimos un cortocircuito
y nuestro lucero de amor
se apago
ni siquiera queda una chispa
de la pasiΓ³n que alguna vez
compartimos
y me pregunto una vez mΓ‘s-
ΒΏSerΓ‘ que para mi, el amor
Siempre serΓ‘ algo como agua
que se escapa de mis manos?

poetry: useless

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

the monster of Depression vs Man—AI generated art from wordpress

talking about how mental health is health is useless in times like these
times when someone takes their own life
not enough actions or preventative measures were taken
it’s always too late to say β€œthis was preventable”
when really we’re all too selfish, too lazy to extend a helping hand
to someone in pain, to someone who is an enemy to himself

poesia: es mi vida

here’s the English version of this poem:

Poetry: Did I Ask For Your Advice?

los consejos y crΓ­ticas de los otros
me hacΓ­an sentir como una fracasada
como que no estaba haciendo lo suficiente
para mejorarme
y cuando era una chava esto me volvΓ­a loca
pero ya que soy una seΓ±ora
me rio, tomo lo que ΓΊtil y rechazo lo demΓ‘s
y sigo con mi vida

poetry: paper flowers

I wrote this poem in August of 2023.

not bad for it being AI generated

she makes paper flowers in reverence for a love that died-
for a love that never deserved her goddess energy
it’s grieving a past, present, and a future
with a lover
who brought toxicity and comfort
and it’s almost indescribable how she feels
it’s mourning a love story she was never ready to end

poetry: reaching out

I wrote the poem in August of 2023.

so in love with myself

I reach out to my unhealed parts when they show up
they’re the messy and crazy parts I hide
the parts that still long to be codependent on others
and are terrified of my new autonomy
the parts that try to bleed into my present
and prevent me from reaching my fullest potential
I reach out, embrace them and whisper
β€œOur story will be better than okay,
we just need to trust the process”

poetry: darkness

I wrote this poem in July of 2020.

aesthetic: depression

The Darkness comes back
with a fierce strength
and takes over my mind
I want to run
I want to hide
But most of all I want to die

The Darkness comes back
like a hurricane
and wrecks my body and mind
and I don’t want to work
and I don’t want to talk
and I don’t want to breathe

The Darkness comes back
and not even the promise of love
keeps it away

poetry: coffee

I wrote this poem in July of 2023.

“I am your sweetheart psychopathic crush”- Lorde

I collect crushes like little boys collect pokemon cards
I’m addicted to the potential of love
without doing anything about it
except to occasionally test their waters
Nonchalantly sliding into their DMs
And posting a thirst trap selfie
and celebrating with a love song
when one of them likes it
or comments on it
hoping one of them sees past my salty poetry
hoping one of them is brave enough
to ask me out for coffee
and wants to get to know the real me