ehh.

sorry i seem so emo, i really am not slitting my wrists and sulking in a room of darkness. i'm kind of floating around, seeing where the days take me and i'm waiting to fly back home.

misogyny

you call out, "hey baby, slow down!"
"where are you goin' so fast?"
"hey girl, i wanna talk to you."
some of you males should be ashamed
of your gender.
to think you have the freedom to strip
us women of our dignity--fuck you.
you would never talk to your sister, your mother,
your daughter, your relatives that way!
men take for granted the privilege
that they are born with.
never will they have to experience
the fear of walking alone at night,
being catcalled--you should be so lucky.






the men closest to us,
the ones in our lives, the ones who
are supposed to be there to protect us,
and love us; they are the ones
who betray us.
one night, one boy had feelings of lust--
and who else to take it out on but me?
telling me i owed it to him,
i didn't understand what the hell i owed.
i, being the passive one, did not want to fight.
straddling me, i felt my shirt being peeled off,
over my head.
my pants being stripped off, the sound
of his belt unbuckling--i could only
squeeze my eyes shut and hope that
it would be over as soon as it had started.
i had been objectified to the lowest low,
his dirty, filthy hands on my breasts,
his warm breath taunting my ears--
oh, it made me feel so tainted, powerless, used.


to earn respect is to give it.
no woman should have to compromise
her self-worth to gain a man's respect.
sticks and stones may break my bones,
and words will always hurt.

meandering thoughts.

empty, empty, empty.
the reoccuring theme of my life!
i'm in a car on an endless road,
the doors are locked shut and all i can do is look
for a horizon, or sign of civilization.
none of this is true though,
but that is how my school life feels like.

girls and boys abound where i live,
drunken weekends,
a pipe hit here, inhaling the skunky smoke;
i get so high, i sit in a stupor.
the tv is on all the time,
superficial shows of superficial drama,
it drones until the light is about to creep through the shades.
popular music from the speakers
are broadcasted from our rooms and we dance, dance, dance.
these girls i live with,
they each bring their own personalities to
each and everyday, and they are
so unique, and so special.

although i enjoy san francisco,
it is seven hundred miles away from home.
seven hundred miles away from gorgeous weather,
my family, dear mentors, my family.
two and a half weeks until i can return.

the days cannot go by slower.

to a boy--

well now,
that was quite taunting.
you, dear boy are so mean
(and i mean this in the nicest, possible way)!
here a weekend, gone the next.

your smile--
i cannot get it out of my head.
i love the way you are so
easy-going and relaxed because
it puts me at ease.
and oh god, and intelligent you are!
it's quite intimidating, i cannot lie.

are you just very friendly,
or just a flirt?
c'est la vie!
young people are this way--
to be beguiling is how it's played.

please come back.

what's done in the dark, must come to light.

you are a dark abyss of black, there is no visibility. black absorbs all color; you absorb and collapse upon yourself.

how to reach you? how to communicate to the distant? it's a good question to be asked. do you want to be touched, loved, thought of, cared about, talked to?
"YES!! I AM DYING--I WANT TO DIE, I WANT TO DIE, i want to die..." there's a simple solution for that, and you know of many. your tears are useless, your cries fall upon deaf ears. you are such a fool.
















"i am better than you, and you know i'm better than you. i will become something that will eclipse your existence and you will be sorry for all that you did. i am intelligent, talented, unique, mature, witty, attractive, responsible, ambitious, personable, kind, outgoing, caring...the list goes on, my dear friend. you are nothing but a setback and you--you are dead to me."

light begins to seep into the abyss of a room. a window has appeared. sunlight is able to come in through those transparent panes as the sun rises.



another one is built and put in. more glass in the room. you are saddened, yet pleased.




and another.

and another.
and another.andanother.andanother. and another!

it is clear what the abyss once was. a skeletal frame of plaster, messed up sheets, strewn clothes, a neglected desk and a chair never sat upon. an unpleasant smell mingles. with the sun, the rays bring a presence of contentment. you are the speech within the abyss, and your voice is crisp and clear. no more sounds of unhappiness, no more anger, no more disappointment. nothing.



you have yourself.

dirty deeds

i go to bed with you,
but my mind is on someone else.
your muscular body,
your angular face,
your tender kisses--
i cannot help but avoid your eyes
and picture someone else.

i lay next to you,
i feel your body's movement,
up, down, inhale, exhale.
the warmth on those cold nights,
i cannot deny that i crave it,
i want it, i enjoy it, i need more of it.

i can't look at you, dear boy.
i can't say that i'm sorry
to avoid you, to not talk to you,
to not look at you straight in the eyes.
you are too ostentatious,
you are a misogynist, a user.
but, i am like you, a user.

i hate your gazes,
i hate your poise,
i hate your stature
and your arrogant and egotistical nature.
your voice grates on my eardrums,
and your presence gives me an
overwhelming sense of discomfort.

i wish i never got involved with you,
i suppose i am sorry...
pity onto you.

my home is foreign.

i am going to go where the sun always shines,
the girls are pretty,
the boys are handsome,
where the fun never fucking stops.
but it's all become so estranged from me.

i can't be in my own neighborhood
without feeling like i will rile up
stupid, idiotic, meaningless, childish drama!
fuck you for "hating me"; you got what you deserve.
stop trying to blame me for everything you did...
to me, me, ME.
i can only smile with how demented you lead
a misconstrued life; you're so fucking pathetic.

my mother always has a reason
to bicker and argue with me,
my father cannot defend me, nor can he.
kind father of mine, you have no spine.
my house can definitely feel
as if it is not a home.

i run to alex, to becca.
the way i miss them--
i feel pains in my heart,
it is so awful.

god, i don't recognize the people
like i used to (and please, don't take offense)!
driving on mira mesa boulevard,
i feel like i don't belong.
i belong in la mesa, or santee,
or encinitas, or oceanside:
all of these places are strange to me,
i feel more at home in a place i don't know
than my own hometown.
i've been away too long.
it's been too long.
is this what will happen to me when i am older?


when i step foot in san diego,
i want to bask in the sun,
lay by the poolside
and relax with beirut.

counting the days for...what?

all i care about is a superficial goal;
to be rail thin must equal contentment!
i don't feel as hungry anymore,
but am i sad?
i can't tell.
am i happy?
perhaps.
the sure constant is that i cannot feel.
i get angry, but i am not angry
with the fervor that i once had.
i feel the sobriety of the days,
nothing changes nor is out of the norm.
the funny thing is that
i constantly feel as if i were in an
inebriated stupor--
i have since february;
my question is when it'll stop.

i don't feel empty,
i do not want to cheapen myself
for 15 minutes of pleasure,
i don't care if i have companionship;
i am stagnant in solitude,
but i can revel in it.
who cares when i can leave the fog
of san francisco,
for the bright and warm rays of
san diego?
i honestly could care less.

pressing key after key
on this expensive piece of technology i own
at least gives me some solace
in the meantime.

a trivial struggle.

my poetry has turned to shit,
i cannot write.
i feel this, and
i feel that.
i am frustrated by him,
i am sad about her.
my feelings seem to be
best expressed through words,
but no.
not today, not for the
past week and half
have i been able to decently
arrange words that i know
into something coherent
and perhaps even...
MEANINGFUL.

i will concede
that i am not a poet laureate,
nor will i ever be.
i just
have anxiety
over stupid issues,
about the time i
never seem to have, and
the stresses that try my mind;
they are wearing.

i am unhappy with my body,
just the way it looks;
and i will openly admit it
right now!
protrusions here,
folds there--it upsets me.
i do not know what to do!
(now i know,
most of you will tell me to
shut up, but i cannot.)
i am also displeased
with this insomnia i have,
this irregular sleep
that i struggle to fall into.
i blame the anxiety,
this over-active mind of mine
that will never stop with
the most random of thoughts,
and the most spontaneous times.
i feel as if i have no escape
from all of this--
i am trying to find a cure
that quite possibly
does
not
exist.

ha!

you care to not notice
what is in front of you.
unfortunately,
that is
a travesty.
be engulfed
in psuedo-happiness,
i

don't

care.

i have my words,
i have my thoughts.
i have good company
and i can fall back on my own
shrewd mind
to get me from
here

to

there.

but wait,
what do i know?
i break after
each relationship.
well, i try not to.
but it is difficult,
to say the least.
i blame my fear,
my fear of solitude,
of

being

completely

alone.

it's a journey
from knowing someone,
to loving someone,
to looking at the deceased.
i

love/hate

every goddamned

second.

fuck this dependency,
condemn your flirtations away,
these interpersonal relationships
turn out to be so inane,
it is torturous.
i

don't want

(i do want)

you.