liberation

I feel her in the tea that I know by herb and not by brand, 

she’s glistening in shadows that hug the city. The mountains forget what time it is. 

they lose themselves in the clouds like when my tummy hurt at the beach and all I could do is

lay

lay

lay

looking up trying to figure out who was looking down

what is a God if not the desire to be perceived with purpose rather than objective

I can taste the centrism perceived by the gringos that laugh at the words I can’t pronounce,

they think they’re so smart to battle the tongues of all the women who could not speak,

I was carried in wombs that weren’t allowed to see

the sun 

pray to the stars 

// without // screams

I crave the land like I crave my mother

looking at the mirror and glaring at the teenager that mothered spirits born and unborn

carried weights of absent men 

formed regrets of pubescent care

yet

I see her in the blossoms down the street from my window

I see her in the gardens that I’ll sow with my kindness

I see her in the mirror when I drop an insult to my knees and let it roll melted in neurons

I see her in my wish for love when all I’ve felt is deprived of such

my hands are dry but the rain is full

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.

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