Daylight Lost

What do you
think about,
in those empty moments,
with no one but yourself?
do you count the ceiling tiles?
do you hum a song?
do you plan world domination?

Pain walks into my mind
taking its sweet time, taunting me with
possibility.
just how the sun sets over hours
and then, all of a sudden
Darkness.

Days are made up
of things,
a good ol’ pie.
Mental to-do lists.
Impatience.
Random intrusive memory.
Countdown to something.
The future.
The past.

Thoughts stack in my mind
fitting together like- well, not at all.

whether the sun is high, or the clouds are low
there is one thing that can stomp out
anything.
It comes and it takes
what it wants.

Every step I take
is planned to
best conserve energy,
to be the least painful.

I have less daylight
because of the time
taken by pain.

Hours wasted,
good times
forgotten,
replaced.

What do you
think about?
In those empty moments,
with no one but yourself?

One Little Boy

He is just a little boy.

I’d never seen eyes like that,

like the ones that were watching me then,

hallowed, gauging whether

I might be a threat to him.

Cute when he was happy,

so small, he looked 3.

Because they starved him.

He would talk to you.

Short sentences.

Speech stopped progressing

at age 3.

When he got angry,

he would use horrible words.

The only tool he ever learned

for emotions that he couldn’t understand.

Curses.

Wild threats.

He would spit in your face

and threaten to kill you.

Who taught him that?

His only tools.

He is just a little boy.

Meeting him

at a time that

I was absolutely

powerless,

crumpled my

hope and

understanding of

reality.

I couldn't help him,

and the ones who could

treated him like

a chore,

mindless work

without reward.

Grown-ups,

tasked to protect him,

held him down

yelling demands of complacency.

What kind of things

did they force on him back home?

Of course, he spit the pills out,

he couldn’t possibly

understand.

There is that

word again.

If you say

“It’s like he’s three.”

Then you cannot 

treat him like

a prisoner, for

he has committed no crime.

His parents hurt him 

in so many ways.

I still cry for him some nights,

I can't imagine how he felt,

alone in that room.

They assumed he’d

attack, yelling at him for 

looking at anyone too close,

he was trying to show me his drawing.

Behind his eyes

Lies an island of nightmares.

There is no turnaround here,

now I know:

I am the one

who couldn’t possibly understand.

He is just a little boy

who deserves to know what love feels like.

Lonely currents

ocean currents are alive,
whispering and holding tight to IOUs
ocean currents are lonely,
so they pull as many people as they can
down to them

the only way out is a sliver of rope
- don't blink, you'll miss it -
waiting to pull you up
but my hands are slipping

memories cloud
the water
can you see where
you need to be?
it's a path made up of
uncertain steps,
jumping over lily pads,
of riptides and crashing waves
the rope has to want you
you have to know what you want

ocean currents are alive.

a whole world

every day
every minute
im not there
is forever lost
every time i worry
i will never return
i wilt, color fades

there is a whole world
it's not so different
it is so different
it's family for me
and for me, that's everything

so there is this whole world
that i am missing
there are people living
and laughing and crying and-

what if i don't get to see my grandmother?
she might be the strongest person I know, and
i can't remember the last thing i said to her
in person, it's different in person

i hate myself for
every moment wasted
even when i was there, i wasn't
i was young, i didn't understand

it was my normal
but i got made fun of
by people who didn't care
to understand

i couldn't have imagined a day
i might not go back

to hug my grandmother
gosh, i worry i will break her
to eat mangos so the juice drips onto my shirt
to see the face babies make
at the first white woman they've seen
to laugh in ways i don't here

there is a whole world
that i can't taste from so far
i try, but it's so far
so far, a million miles
2,221 miles to her house, there
is no connection between
the ocean that is so big
i pray and think and dream of the
land that feels like a fairytale
that i can't touch over here

there are no books
no websites
no mind for a country so small
holding rainforests and creatures you've never seen
holding color that I can't see
not from over here

not from here

Brown (paint swatch)

tagsales can bring new things
to you the linen has never been
seen in your room

milk in the morning
don’t forget your toast!

boulder up the driveway
on the way out to school
(after a good nights sleep
and a good mornings yawn)
don’t let the day bleed beige




This poem was written using the names of 3 shades of brown on a paint swatch.

And Just When

I miss it.

a different world--one without

the

ugly shit

And just when you think you've seen the worst

you're going to get to save the day

and that feels good.

Taken from blackout poetry from September '17.

Stripped Raw

rollercoasters invoke vomit
black and white photography
misses out on half the picture

volume stabilizers
keep things even, tones level
one song blends into the next
lots of things are thrown at you
but, predictably, they all weight the same
(some people don't have those installed)

everything is at a screaming pitch
one that can drop so suddenly,
sound submerged in water
(sometimes I think I've gone deaf)

emotions ride my skin
like I'm a rollercoaster
diving deep, needling me with ink
whenever the mood hits them

jealousy feels like jello on skin
and happiness is that moment
just before you jump

anxiety is yellow
buzzing bees trapped in my lungs
they will get angry
and make me regret
having a single thought

rollercoaster again,
up and down, but I'm blindfolded

this trail is endless
oh, I'm back to where I started
intensity drives you mad
to the brink of reality
falling into exhaustion

some people don't have the automatic system
we use a gear shift in our minds
to control our emotions
careful not to stall,

going too fast, when will I stop?

I can't explain
I don't have the words
no, I have too many
they won't fit in my head
I'm pouring out my soul,

nerves open to the air
emotional skin ripped away
leaving raw sparks
waiting to start a fire

Untitled (Not A Song)

I really was scared.

(the girls would be so pretty and
i'd just be there)

Oh, my friends left me at the altar.
(i wasn't really getting married)
Now, they look at me
so differently.

I'm not who I seem.
(i can't help but ask)
What do you see?

[instrumental]

You have to tell me if
I'm doing it right.
(don't leave me, not yet)

I hate that I still think of
all the things they said to me;
slaps made of insults
that wore the disguise of friendship
sometimes shedding it for disgust
that covered jealousy
year after year,
what makes a friend?

I'm so scared of these things.
(what if you don't like what you see?)

I could end up alone.

Ah, that’s what it always comes down to.
(i’d like to say it’s something more)
but, nothing profound,
to be seen,
just this simple thing.

I can love myself all I want,
but, there is something I cannot give
to myself (to me) companionship is rare.

This turned into a lovesick poem.
(that’s not what it’s meant to be)
In all senses of the word
 "being alone"
is about atrophy.
Without muse, without sound;
blind, in the dark, nowhere to be found;
everything is tasteless with no one to share;
my body is starved for touch; nose to the ground-

for what, I'm not sure,
but it makes me think,
who do I want to be? (Screw fate.)

I will craft a body from ripe avocados and anxiety.
Words spin my soul, a spinning wheel,
I will write as many papers as it takes
to get to my doctorate degree (or whatever it will be)
I am my own goddess and I will create my own work of art.
Starting with nothing, I will end with everything. (Screw fate.)

One day, I won’t be scared.

[dramatic fade out]

look at the fools

get used to being used.
trash, run over
with dark tire marks
still get picked up by hands
of desperate friends

look at the fools,
see how they run
we laugh behind their backs
jeering at cowards
when we are the same

we love so innocently
throwing out lies as we please
it's dangerous, the theatre we act out
craving the future we always dreamt about

some days you'll be the fool they are laughing at
some days you'll be used
some days you'll be loved

some times are dangerous
sometimes it's worth it

Cualquier Color

la gente saben todo
saben todo de tus días
pero en todo tu vida
jamás encontrado otro
modo de vivir

no puedes escuchar
lo que te están diciendo
nada mas puedes vivir
y vivir con tu color
cualquier color tu pides



Rickety Translation: