La Pura Neta

I sit here drinking Just thinking and over thinking Every sound your words make  I try dressing and undressing every vowel, syllable, and pause of your sentences. I write small tiny script even though that's not my type. I write shamefully, in embarrassment, these words that paint the images created in my mind. My strands of hair sit lifeless on my thumb as I write. I don't move them- I like the image of wholeness it makes. The idea that I have not fallen apart. Now my type is cursive, it's swayed letters melting into one another. The sudden strength building up as the ink flows through. Who do I love. Is it you, him, her, me. Them, us, my ideas, my thoughts. I love my mother and she loved me. So here we go again to being my fucking drama bee. making shit up from what I pick up on the streets. The bows, the toys, the dirt and rocks I like to display next to your piece. Fuck, where is home? I forget. Is it only on nights when we fuck in bed. Is it wishful thinking to dream u

I appreciate these times On my own In my head Clear as day. No worries No torments Nothing to be said. I love these moments alone And loneliness Just sounds and thoughts I wish I had pen and paper To hear the subtle scratching and feel the urge of my willing mind I appreciate my love The time he gives me I love me I love thee Drifting to the night where we smoked pot by the trees

I feel worthless and weak I can’t breathe And I hate myself for it This hate becomes fury in an instant The only thing I want to do is punch my face So, I punch my legs Slap my face Slap my arm, I think I need something to release this stress. Boxing would be great. Cycling looks like fun- Peddling and peddling with no where to run But, there is no time. I have no extra time. I can get up early for a 6 am class but how about my sleep. I’m just so tired today. I just want to sleep. I've been told of a path obscured. It curves, it glides, but must be held with carefulness, I am assured. Soon, I will understand. No one knows it, though its seen, no one knows it but people like me. We are asked to hold against our will for pressure or love I know not still. Though happiness is not always found, pleasure is all around no instructions, no guidance, just will of the mind, being run to ground. I've been told of a table,

1. Kids don’t walk the fine lines They blur through them To a level misunderstood Where some reach an edge Where elders deem stupid Because they’ve lost the scope To view the glow 2. Remember that first time When you had me shine That exhilaration of riding the line The blue that awesome night When happiness was validated Because it was shared between us I and you have grown And learned from our joys 3. God Do you’ve any idea how much I feel For you? My life is half full Because of you. I can not breath Due to you. Is there a word to describe what I feel For you? All Day Long My chest aches when I think of you Hyperventilating, my hands search the cool ground For you I lay here confused in my head Thinking over Over Over what was just said, Interpretations stop me dead 4. Shall I shut the blinds so you can admire All the lines and cracks and pores Of my home I do, too long to admire To gaze At st

what is this this this rush this speed my need to please to yell to scream to ruin the moments around me this adrenaline is not helpful its not useful its not hopeful its anger its disaster its chaos its rapture the end to bend the trend of peace and happiness to feel free to pee how I damn well please to shit shit in the streets at night when no one is around when everyone is sleeping in i will toss their tin- sel and pull their bows not for heroes nor for hoes just so i can piss and shit any damn way i please now, the energy is flying its dying its leaving me and i am left with all these foul discrepancies that drift out to sea and im suppose to float on this boat amoungst shit i built on my own expecting for you to understand for you to comprehend for you to save me while i toss your tinsel and pull your pants and trip you up when you walk up the steps who the fuck am i to d