(2014)
#1A1CTypeDiabetes
How do you measure pain? All is relative and personal Even with one’s own self It is impossible to compare As memory distorts pain
You might know her As blonde eyes Or as the sister who bakes cookies But you see I don’t write this
Good secret Bubbles inside Let me out Bad secret Indigestion
I find richness In the mixture In what others disdain Young people lost Between two cultures
Inspirational quotes Are full of crap Whatever meaning Is lost In the sea
To be a true artist Must they be recluses Crazy mad or sick Or even better dead Show me a healthy artist
¿Te fue mal el día? Me va mal también a mi Dos vidas entretejidas Irrevocablemente Te cargo a ti encima
Itus and Itis Crashed my party I didn’t invite them! I whisper to my sister They make my skin crawl
Nothing makes people flee Like reading them poetry They value it in theory But please don’t make them read Surprise me with your verse
Most women are cooks But a man who cooks Is a chef She cooks over and over To feed the masses
When the emotion comes up It feels like heartburn Like acid Clenching my throat My ears go watery
The strings that attach me To this world Ground me Yes they sometimes Keep me from flying
I crave stability Neither wandering spirit Nor home-body Yes I’d love to travel But the foundation
I cannot apologize For writing what I feel inside If it is hard to read It is harder to live I will understand
Destruction is fun But cannot be undone Smashed Trashed Crumpled