writing poetry

I write when I am silenced.
I write when my voice is shoved back into my throat, choking my emotion and seizing my mind.
I write when no one wants to listen. I write when everyone is so caught up in the strings of their own lives that they are tangled within themselves.
I write when I feel that no one can truly understand how my mind works, a million miles a minute, so much to say but no one has the time to listen to my words so a page catches them instead of another soul and that’s okay with me.
Pages don’t interrupt or intervene. Pages don’t tell you that you’re overreacting and your emotion has taken grasp of your whole being, making you feel insane due to merely existing in yourself more than anywhere else, pages won’t leave you feeling like there’s still more to say, but the conversation was cut short by lack of interest, pages never leave you feeling unsatisfied. Pages accept your words, and there’s simply no room for judgement.
—  v.m
Do not go looking for love in a man who acts like a boy and treats you like you are one of his toys.
—  Tenari Ioapo
He reminds her of earthquakes,
he always comes back,
even after a long time,
she learns to live again,
she learns to forget the past,
and here he is, in front of her,
scaring the hell outta her,
because what if they are meant to be?
what if they have to be together?
what if it’s a sign?
what if they make the biggest mistake
leaving each other?
what if? 
But she knew,
earthquakes are meant to destroy things,
earthquakes have their reasons of coming back,
they have to damage what’s not yet ruined,
she knew,
you can’t ask for peace from something
that was meant to be a destroyer.
It’s hard to believe 
I was once pure 
and innocent.
It’s the small stolen
moments we don’t realize
we miss until it’s too late
and it leaves us empty.
—  you see my eyes are sometimes filled with darkness that I can’t quite place, considering they were once filled with light. // a.hagar

i know he feels like a safety net
always there to catch you
but darling, safety nets do not
have huge holes in the middle
safety nets cannot be always burning
safety nets should not tear
apart at the smallest of pokes
safety nets do not give
you an illusion of safety
safety nets cannot be safety blankets
they cannot come with a tag saying
safety not guaranteed
they need to catch you when you fall
they need to keep you safe

the new gods climb, while supervisors watch
they don’t live on mountains
booming out of clouds like Oz

the new gods rent industrial space
in downtown LA
shake their heads over lattes
old gods! so out of touch!

the new gods watch close, they know
the best way to tear someone down
is to live in sight of their heart


i remember waking up before the sun, to you, pulling on my hips until there were no spaces left between our skin.
like a ticking time bomb, you matched the light kisses you gave away to the skipping beat of my heart.
lately, the days seem never ending as i drag my feet along with the memory of you.
now when i roll over in that empty bed, i can still taste the stale whiskey on your breath.

it seems as though i’ve felt the weight of missing you hit me at every angle.
and though you’ve never been consistent, i still roll with your punches.
your intentions may not have been to have such a heavy fist,
but i can’t remember the last time i’ve felt so beaten that i became numb.

it hasn’t made any sense till now, but i guess this is what my parents meant when they told me to never fall in love in the dark.


he sits on the couch, my couch
tea in hand, iced, the atmosphere
clings, a mirage running down

she sits in his lap
and this makes him grin,
I’ve never seen that look, delicate
like roasted marshmallows, edges
slipping off plopping to the ground
if not devoured right now

his lap, always flip-up seats, stored
brought for parties, filled with tequila
smiles squeezed from limes, tipsy things
back-throat sloshing, vertigo words

this lap is sober, drinking mint
well-worn tennis shoes, and socks
legs like wooly caterpillars,
when did he start wearing bike shorts?

his laugh tinkles off the glass
and hits my girl in the eye.
-bent with epileptic giggles,
-barely able to hold air,
I’m not jealous, but
I don’t know
where I fit in this moment
any more than I knew back then


Never think that you’re not good enough. A man should never think that. My belief is that in life, people will take you at your own reckoning.
—  Isaac Asimov

Sober kids are the good kids,
Sheltered, kicking back
With their minds
Powered by PlayStation
And Quenched on Pepsi.

While they never engaged
In any kind of fist fight,
Despite mimicking
mortal kombat moves
Infront of the mirror–
But they will rip apart
Any facebook thread
Made by Becky’s soccer mom
(Followed because she’s actually kind of hot)
Over her mulish support
And patriotism she suddenly acquired
Upon the inauguration of our president.

Those are the kids
Making sex jokes
As they fap to anime chicks
And getting lit,
While the only thing
They have ever used a lighter for
Was to light their own birthday cake–
Oh, they also managed
To burn their thumb.

Sheltered kids, quiet as they are
Can be quite fun too,
Just give them a chance
To be normal too.

—  Sheltered kids