vivid dream activity

not even death has to be a disaster
death can just be an illusory smell
that stays in the nostrils weeks after
something traumatic happens to your body
an unexplainable wrench
no one will understand when
you ask ‘do you smell that decay’
but then you remember a time that
where you had your face pressed
up to death
non happenings stick
quarantine has dismantled time
the space between life and death
has now become the
infinite version of it still
we all feel it
we’ve all been bashed inside

be happy, baby

stay soft yet strong
let that radiate from your
sunken eyes

made me no
molded me
crazy
the pain
made me crazy

now I distance myself
from people like me
women like me
who say innocent
things in order to be dismissed

numb the trauma
numb the trauma don’t rehash
it hide it, but numb it
don’t let it show
don’t , it only makes people feel bad
for you
for themselves
for the state of society
we only feel this pain and then
we die

am i

I only have time to creep on
social media I only
have time to stare at someone
from my past

my adult life, my twenties
can be summed up to what
today was

I woke up at 9am with the November sun
beaming through broken white blinds
I layed in bed thinking about where
it went wrong

I forced myself to journal three morning
pages they always seem
to be about me missing someone

then I went to the clinic because
HPV was a concern
turns out it’s just a skin irritation
the doctor reported this to
me with so much joy
I kept that joy for a few hours
after I left

then I shoved peanut butter cups
in my mouth while silently
color coding a rack of long sleeve
shirts thinking about my place
in capitalism thinking about
the fall of capitalism

feeling the band aid from the blood
that i had drawn earlier suffocate
the crevice of my arm
I got home showered and then
ripped an inch of my skin off
while taking it off
raw red
thin
I go to bed

looking through my diary

We sit by the ocean
while eating grapefruit,
and gazing
through white windows

A tea party is automatically nostalgic
lip biting returns while diving further into the future, adulthood
and whatever that means,

The painting by the ocean is prettier
than the others
due to the salt, and its healing properties

I am in the air,
planning something for a future moment

three weeks from now
that might end up being too late when executed

Bag lady

That sheet of metal that you have installed as a roof
isn’t preventing you from drowning.
The sun cannot reach you,
your head is dry,
preventing growth,
suffocating the sprout.

It’s October,
the month of the soul.
I can feel the change and introspection happen
within the melancholy earth colors.

This time last year I was almost in the same state of mind.
Wanting to grow,
but following a blueprint
of what others have found successful.
The true blueprint I should follow is
the one of the trees.
Let the baggage fall.

Future plans

Having no future plans,
truly, isn’t as scary
as some people
make it out to be.

I may be homeless
or jobless at some point,
but working a 9 to 5 that I hate
would be worse.

At least there is a certain passion to this
deadbeatness.

Even if I have a secured job after I graduate,
it
still wouldn’t bring me the sense of security
I need.
The only certain thing
I have
is myself.

So I should work on myself, right?

Perhaps we are all working on ourselves by making future plans.
As in to not commit suicide.
Future plans require
a certain presence
suicide would get in the way of.

Last day of February

It is the last day of February
and I am lacking inspiration.

Months seem to go by
with no trace of productivity.
Oh well.
What should I do?
I know,
I should take on a new perspective.

A fresh one.

One free of insecurities and worries.

Let go of all of the thoughts
that don’t serve me anymore.
And there are many.

Isn’t terrible how people fall in love,
unreciprocated is the best kind.

Next month, I will be more productive.
Even if
the hoped for,
dreamed of,
results
aren’t reciprocated.

Artists

Have you ever noticed the way people can spot an artist
from a far.
Is it the dress?
or in the cool graceful manner
that they carry themselves,
articulate steps with a
whatever
I’m over this attitude

The coolest older couple just walked in
The woman is wearing a tie dye blouse and a long skirt
which is belted at the waist

The man is wearing a black t-shirt, blue jeans
and Rayban sunglasses
Their outfits compliment each other

I could stare at ‘artists’ all day
the energy they give off
is fresh, and intelligent

Actually, this is where I get my inspiration,
the people that I look up to
the people who go to art galleries
the people who listen to jazz
the people who decorate their homes with art