Poems from B&W and the B&W era
Poetry
My grandmother is an elf. Beautiful books collect dust on the shelf. Her lessons echo from deep down the well, yet kindness can no longer ring her bell. My grandmother acts out in pointless cruelty. Comes across to others a fiend begging release, but broken down inside, she’s really
Poetry
There is something to the silence. I shut my eyes Close my ears Detach from my skin Inside there is fear. Beyond Void lack of noise Perception is destroyed. What is safety without risk? The point where we exist, Polarized dichotomies, Endless philosophies, Excess of western ideologies. Balance lies to
Poetry
No buzzing No eyes No daggers No lies Cold sheets Warm blankets Birds caw Heavy eyelids Heartbeat slows Feelings wane Gentle glow Demons tame I can see why the ordinary never break out What could be wrong when you don’t hear a sound? I don’t know what to
Poetry
No me dejarías volver a la guerra un viejo mundo gira sálvame la vida manten me en tu mira The only closed circuit is my life. There’s no permanent damage in touching the knife. Death is coming to have and to hold me. Everything else is impermanent. I’m
Poetry
I’m sorry I didn’t listen I’m sorry I didn’t come clean I’m sorry I didn’t fall apart I’m sorry I let you go unseen
Poetry
I categorically reject the notion that the people you love are allowed to routinely make your life harder.
Poetry
Healing process go away I don’t wanna feel sad today. You have had 12 hours to say whatever you need so fuck off, ey?
Poetry
You were never a monster, but a seagull instead. Yet the trash you scattered, fills me with dread. So I learn to recycle, Breaking this cycle, Neither of us need pretend. I found the end of this bend.
Poetry
Love is an action, not a concentration spell. My love is for me. It continually sets me free. Love fills my cup spills over. Would it be okay for me to shower you with the excess? My tired heart needs a rest from keeping quiet. Your light, it starts a
Poetry
Crían a estos hombres como cazadores, cuando tienen que aprender a cultivar. La onda no es obtener una mujer, sino saber cuando es hora de entregar. “Pero siempre me dejan al final!” Entonces no era la indicada, nada más. No le haces bien a nadie estancado en un pasado sin
Poetry
Beaten Used Bruised Abused Pardon me mother Did I not stutter enough? Soften rough edges so you could stuff a fraction of the action thrust upon me against my will I apologize for being physically ill I won’t trouble you you’ve had your fill these are all my
Poetry
There’s a door that we unlocked Walls between the self and thoughts Things we abandoned left to rot They’re coming back I cannot stop Mom Please repeat after me Make these strange compulsions cease “you can stop writing. it is okay to prioritize your wellbeing. nothing bad will