There is more than meets the eye

if you are weak you are yourself 

if she is stronger than you she’s a bitch 

If she stands up for herself she’s a bitch 

what’s keeping her from jumping off the window 

What does she want 

she knows what she wants 

a life for herself

one that looks good on the pictures so everyone wins 

She always likes to balance things that way 

Warm dim lights, eating out, her baby (her boy?) graying her hair 

everything’s planned, like a loser

may be she needs to not be here 

this place makes her mad 

she cries a tear 

This is the story of a child

of a mother 

of not getting what they wanted 

who will proceed to cut her hair 

she waits for her mom in the bed

but she never comes 

like olden times she knows when she’s left

Over breakfast she is momentarily haywire 

the fried garlic and chili flakes fly 

she doesn’t rush to clean it 

she eats her food and drinks the juice. 


This is the feeling of bile of a cursed unrequited love for millennia 

of hunger the following morning after a “full” meal as ecstasy’s lingering impact on a newbie’s stomach when you can feel and taste the dysgeusia

of an object by its design and innovation tempting you to disrupt its inertia 

of suicide over positive thoughts 

of anxiety creeping above and on you like soft electric shocks 

of mom not returning 

of an unfinished orgasm. 


She loves like it’s free 

She’s strength just by being herself 

she who I can’t hug right now

She who I can’t give a kiss on the cheek right now 

She who is sincere and pure like him

She who works hard for everyone but for herself 

She who loves fiercely as if love is fire and she them

I would rather not tell the world about her

Something comes over me

possessiveness ?

Or the fact that there are no words to describe her?

Or that the world doesn’t deserve her. Then what makes you think you do?

Then the world will know I am a fraud 

Who got everything good and nothing bad from her 

With you suffering begins 

I’m typing this instead of writing it by hand

Decadence overtakes me

I can feel the anxiety loom

The days before stacked and ready to crash land 

You implant rottenness 

Your intentions are foul 

                                                                   I love you 

Listen to me and never talk to me again