Home is my son’s laughter after a hard day
home is the sun on my skin while I run
home is peace and Tranquility after years of Chaos
home is letting other see the real me
and not some fake personality
Poetry: Home
poetry: today
I wrote this poem in July of 2024.
it wasn’t until today I realized how ordinary you really were
It wasn’t that you were ever that interesting or special
It was me with my lovergirl delusional glasses
refusing to see past what was in front of me
Seeing and getting caught up in fantasies
of who you could be
when really you were, the most ordinary of men
not malicious, not especially intelligent
not really helpful
just kind of existing without any spark
without anything that would make me
look twice at you now
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Poetry: So Pretty
Pretty gets me in a man’s door
but also makes me feel like a whore
I’ve been pretty sexy, pretty nice, pretty sweet
I’ve also been pretty crazy, pretty Petty, and pretty mean
men love me when I’m pretty and submissive
but not when I’m pretty reclusive
men want the pretty girl who’s fun
but not when I’m a pretty girl who’s a selfish cunt
pretty gets me notice
but also gets me dismissed
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poetry: COVID AGAIN!
I wrote this poem in July of 2024.
with this new strain of COVID, all of my cell are mutating and regenerating
and making be at a standstill where I have time to sit and think
about what I really want, about whether or not I’m doing enough
to live a life worth living
or if I’m just existing in a routine of monotony that leads nowhere
in a routine I’ve deluded myself into calling healthy
but really it’s far from it
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Poetry: Pretty Mess
Men love a pretty mess like me
especially the nice ones who want to fix me and save me
I’m their pretty princess who’s so lovely and sweet
And for some, my pussy makes them think or say they love me
but when I turn from a pretty mess to a crazy and chaotic hurricane
they can’t stand to be around me and run away
“I never signed up for this, you’re toxic”
and I cry and then laugh at the absurdity
you don’t get to choose just to love the fun part of me
because that’s not love
that’s their primal need and lust for me disguised as loved
because real love accepts everything about me
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poetry: betrayal
I wrote this poem in July of 2024.
my body has betrayed me one last time
and this time I’ll take charge of it
and control what’s happening
this time I’m old enough to stop
this nonsense and kill what’s causing me
the most insufferable pain
and I’ll replace the hip that’s the vane
of my existence,
the diseased hip that must be sacrificed for me
to stop the curse of martyrdom passed down
for generations
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Poetry: Goddess Complex
I am a powerful force in this complicated world
full of intelligence humor and intense sexuality
men want to fuck me, women want to hate me
both want to get near me
I’m an Amazon goddess in a millennial mom bod
I try my best to stay humble
but have you ever been
called the most beautiful woman in the world
or has your power make grown men cry
and run away from you
it’s hard to stay down to earth
when I hold so much power between my legs
and my hands
Soy una a mujer, made up of chaos and trauma
who carries strength and resilience as her armor
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Ceviche
What’s the most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten?
Ceviche, ceviche, ceviche
you are a national treasure to me
your origin is mysterious
your taste is juicy and tasty
ceviche, ceviche, ceviche,
you are an explosion of ecstacy
because you feel like you’re
making love to my mouth
with every bite I melt inside
4/6/2022
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poetry: American dream
I wrote this poem in July of 2024.
to see my american dream I just need to step into my backyard
and look at my holy trinity who call me mom
they’re the ones I try to better myself for
they’re the one who make my immigrant existence
worth living for
they’re my american dream wrapped up in burps, dark humor
and love
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No
If you were forced to wear one outfit over and over again, what would it be?
This is the most terrible prompt on WordPress to be honest. Perhaps this is coming from a place of vanity since the only thing that made me seriously consider the convent was the thought of wearing the same outfit the rest of my life. In fact, here’s a poem I wrote about it.
‘My vice
On a sunny day, I was angry and running
and said, “who the fuck needs men”
and I thought about joining the convent
I could definitely take a vow of celibacy
but then I remember their vow of poverty
And I can’t become a poor person again
Sure God will understand I’m made for starbucks
And pretty dresses from amazon
And to take a vow of modesty would feel like an atrocity
a crime against my humanity
I could never tone down my beauty
I look too good in a bikini
so for now I’ll have to settle for a secular life
because being a spoiled and pretty girl is my vice
Anyways, WordPress needs to do better with their prompts. 🙂↕️🙂↕️🙂↕️
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poesía: sonrisa
here’s the English version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=12825
la negación se asienta en mis entrañas
pero lo disfrazó con una sonrisa
y viajes al zoológico
fingiendo que la felicidad doméstica
es lo maximo
mientras estoy temblando con rabia
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poetry: july
I wrote this poem in July of 2024.
july, july, july
it’s the month where I lose my mind
the heat gets to me and turns up the BSC in me
you won’t find me sweet and eager to please in July
you won’t find me full of ruffles and flowery phrases
in poetry
you’ll find me being a ball of immigrant rage and fury
you’ll find me a woman who’s had enough
of the American dream bullshit
and ready to roar and scream out everything wrong
with this country
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poetry: denial
another poem inspired by 2007.
denial sits in the pit of my gut
but I disguise it with a smile
and trips to the zoo
act like domestic bliss is heaven
when inside I’m trembling with rage
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poesía: sin querer queriendo
escribí este poema en Junio del 2024.
Entre la espada y la pared me encuentro otra vez
es tiempo para otra evolución, otro renacimiento
pero me siento cómoda donde estoy
me siento tranquila aqui
donde no tengo que dar explicaciones a nadie
pero el universo tiene otros planes para mi
pronto vendrá alguien o algo que me moverá el piso
y denuevo caeré en el caos sin querer queriendo
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poesía: ciclo
here’s the english version of this poem:
https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=12818
envuelta en un ciclo de nostalgia
cartas y fotos viejas y música de los 90
tratando de acordarme de quien fui
Antes de me convertirme la madre de alguien
Life on the BPD 