le dije a mi mamá que quería morir
y dijo
tu corazón es como un grano de mostaza
she said pain was here it’s watered it’s mustard
the pain in my soul had roots that broke bones
it chews on a generation
deja rastro de muerte en la sed de serpientes
pero le dije a mi mamá que quería morir
y dijo
tu corazón es como un grano de mostaza
crecí a conocer que a b o r t a r fia su arriendo
y que de mostaza muere el corazón sediento
What I bring to the table
the table holds knives that butcher my skin taking a lap
the breaths of gasp taking effect weathering goodbyes
“she’s awake, she’s awake
up the dose, up the dose!”
intubated by the season smells of rosemary
bees pollinating sucking dry tears of stalking
gawking recipes leaving residues of bloody posture
nailing promise into gaze i saw the light by mistake
“she’s awake, she’s awake
up the dose, up the dose!”
committed to the smell of heineken grew into my curves
cries at matinees restless of absence grains of regret
demanding pan de vida pa quien pa quien
the table weighs concrete blocks resting impaled hands
spheres touching touching m e n
“she’s awake, she’s awake
up the dose, up the dose!”
recovering addict wakes up in a bed imprisoned I felt
sutured promises melting thoughts holding flesh
it’s the gaze be the gaze it sends a flashy text
your absence cannot be felt
your act cannot be played
your amnesia has finally settled into my regret
“she’s awake, she’s awake
up the dose, up the dose!”
arcoiris
I thought words only painted images or things we want to see but can’t,
i’ve found words also paint nondescriptive anthems.
splashes of paint consumed by deepest fears // depressive episodes glassed with bloody // cuts //
their
skin
fresh
in mind and soul,
wanting to absolve intrusions
numbing empty hope // running engines of easels,
they’re all mine.
mania ain’t so bad, when it paints like this.
The crash comes with what silence can’t retain.
Would you believe me if I showed you? Would I? DO I // have to? Did I, want to?
I lost more than trust in me, the way I lost myself in you.
spring forgives, but no matter the leaves sprouting in skeletons all over the city,
on the back stains pulled empty // bloody // stern
they emblematize the anthem I cling to past the 90s show that introduces romantically
people always do this, people always leave.
medicated
late at night
chemicals in my brain react
to whispers of vanguard
dissolved by a little pill
served by my new corner pharmacy
rooted in mannerisms of expectation
seeking performance aside from revelation
feeding the emptiness of melancholia
weighing high functioning cycles
exhausting every tear possible
as raiding disruption
turns into abduction
clinging to images of bare comfort
membranes dissolving desire for the unconscious
claiming ability for
failing repeatedly
to hold conversion
as shifts of redemption
yet replace temptations
with shifts of perception
The voices in my head
you know what bothers me the most? it’s never how much someone pulls away, or how they read your scars with self-diagnosis, how they judge your responses.
it’s the lies. the lie of their care. the lie of their fear. the lie of their contempt.
am I so gullible to think that still, through the lies, I can love you? I must be so crazy to see your pity as high regard. I had forgotten that silence perceived feels anxious but understood can be weaponized.
I must be a fool to answer the questions I know I can’t even answer to myself. you make me brave the same way you make me weak, with a curiosity to feel the ether of my beginnings yet inspect the scars near the ends.
It must be some gift to make the storyline so real, so raw, to watch the different paths dissipate with a tap.
Distance has never seen me grow, it has always seen me drown.
I’d forgotten that the only ear that hears me scream at night is mine, the one that wakes up in tears, remorse, fear.
yet here I am, wondering who will get to hold your hand at night when you can’t sleep, dry your tears when you can’t beat em, and dream to live with you.
Vegvísir Atreví 