Last poem blaming the mother.

When I smiled at her to show some affection,
she asked, "how come you have more wrinkles than me?"
Always with the criticism, none of the loving.
You may think it's implied, but I'm waiting
waiting & waiting. It's not enough, Mom,
it's too late, and will never be enough.
But your words are wise, cutting but wise,
maybe that's why I'm so divided?
You afforded no love cause you received none.
A child is just a tool, a competitor,
a variable that has to be evaluated.
The den is lined with hidden barbs.
The rule shifts with no logic only chaos.
I can see now how I peeled away my flesh.
You did all you can, so your counsel I will cherish.
But I shall always be on guard.

New Year, the Same.

I think & think that's all I ever do.
Now I have to consider the likelihood
that I'm sane, y'all are crazy.
What's wrong with dreams?
I'm sick of leaving a door open
to let doubt in and your lives
that are not even authentic.
It's the same chorus, the same faces,
I don't know what you want from me.
Maybe nothing, I'm just self-important.
I'm tired, I'm worthless,
but I'm on the solid ground,
a piece of land that I found.
Maybe I shouldn't turn away so quick.
You are there for back up, I appreciate it.
But I have to say no to something.
Delay after delay, thinking after thinking.
So wrapped up, nothing wrong with criticism
keeping you on the balance. Think, you. Think!

I don’t know.

I don't know why I cry.
At least I don't feel dead.
What you ask about a smile.
Is that tears in your eyes?
Can't predict the weather
of this ocean inside.
Never sure when's the encounter.
A meteor in the sky.
Is it the high that brings the low,
or is the low that brings the tides?
I don't trust it.
My brain can't command.
The spirit roams looking for an echo.
A fleeting moment the universe's made for.
No evidence. No reason. No witness,
No future. No declaration. No following.
It's lost till it appears, again.
Before you recognize it. While you wait for it.
Maybe prepared for it. It will be yours.
Just for a moment.
You're all its worth.


I took you when you were young,
and saw the world through your wonders.
You ditched me when it became boring
when I'm with you everything's easy.
I watched you splitting into two.
The warring drains your mind till
you're blind of what should've been.
It's not your fault.
It's too much too fast.
You are always alone
looking for answers you've already known.
You could, so you did.
But you've been missing home.
Older & wiser, thinking yourself a fool.
It's OK. I knew you'd come this way.
You love me, so, you had to throw me away.
I'm still right here, the same everything.
I understand you have to grow alone,
finding your battles & healing your wounds,
being tempted at every step to turn back.
I can't begin to tell you how proud I am.
Have you had your fun? Good.
It's time to take possession.


I am poor.
Economically, emotionally, spiritually.
Can't grow nothing
but this tangled thorns.
Omg, I can't believe
that I exist
on borrowed time, no less.
Excuse me if I make a mess,
I've always tried my best.
But I can't tolerate myself,
the reason I can't stand still:
don't want to meet nobody
that speaks like me moves like me thinks like me.
Forgive me. I am poor.