tres leches 

overdosed on self control

went to rehab, detox complete

desire’s high, can not tame

an appetite that yearns to crave

outermost masks cool as ice

median enjoys the void

sweet escape in the space between

beyond it all lives the rawest nature

the inner core quakes and beams

when the trinity is magnetized

self control can not be, naturally

best to flow into eruption

best to exhale and release the steam

fermented feels turn insatiable

refuse to let desires rest

when the trinity is magnetized

fear exists in a held breath

expression births realities sought

naive believe fate’s the only god

rewards to self root in declaration

let desire be the cause





petty spaghetti 

i came.

you’re late.

i sat.

you’re late.

i ordered.

you’re late.

i ate.

you’re late.

i left.

you’re late.

my value was the meal.

you’re late.

we made reservations together.

you’re late.

i’m gone.

you’re there.

you’re too late.


i’m not being extra. 

had a beautiful cry 

like i had a blade dragged into me to remove a dormant cancer that was hidden & resting but in great magnitude. 

before this cry, i had a productive day.

i laughed and smiled.

i worked on new projects. 

i saw people who i admire.

i had endorphins flowing through my body.

i had a cry @6A after a bike ride home during a call home to my grandmother. 

it was like blockage was removed and resting pain that existed inside me exited in bulk, in the same vain of my living joy. 

i could see myself screaming as babies do when they become aware of the vast world – life replanting me from my comfort zone to one more visibly boundless.

my grandma laughed and said i’m perfect. 

i noticed that

his hair is tough like my fathers. in all of my 26 years, he’s only been around for less than 2 percent of it all and somehow, the care, patience, and understanding he has shown me has far surpassed what i’ve received from my father during my entire lifetime.

i noticed that she reminds me of my grandmother. the way she plans ahead without announcing her doings. she walks cautiously. she speaks carefully. the things she doesn’t know she asks about with appreciation and passion, unafraid of revealing her unfamiliarity and eager to gain more knowledge.

friendships are flowers — in order to appreciate a full bloom, we must be present for all the moments in between.


Writing on leased furniture
Pleasure as a vandal
Just trying to feel differently
Joy inside a scandal
Sleep is less important
Time zones are foreign
Trying to keep from scrolling
Attention span thins
Backlight dims
Just queued up soundcloud
Doing things for new friends
Taking things slowly
Trying to find real homies
Filtered water
Unfiltered thoughts
Electrify the nation
Culture shock

the stars still sparkle despite the mess we’ve made. dust can’t mask the truth. masks can’t hide the truth. beauty is meant to be seen despite the mess we’ve made. we are fickle creatures. we are afraid of the dark. we block the light. there are many reasons we are inferior. we make our fear superior. do we know what is more important than the mess we’ve made?


He said he would be her diary
They were never friends
It was always complicated
She didn’t want to see it
He was always bitter
He knew he couldn’t keep her
He was jealous of the world
For that’s who she belonged to
He couldn’t match the stimulus
He couldn’t compete
He tried to make her despise it
He tried to confine her desires
He tried to end her curiosity
He tried to be her everything
He tried to be her home
He tried to be her world
He couldn’t fight the truth
She outgrew the home he made
He said he loved her
He said he wasn’t bitter
He said he was her friend
She wrote him everyday
He never replied
The pain of sharing her was heavy
He wanted her to fill his void
She wanted to show him love
She wanted to show him light
She wrote to him everyday
She wrote for him everyday
She wanted to share her world
She wanted him to be her friend
He never was her friend
He never knew how to love her
He only knew how to use her
She didn’t mind being used
She had so much to give
He didn’t want it on her terms
He didn’t want to wait
He didn’t want to love her
He only wanted to consume
She doesn’t write to him anymore
She doesn’t write for him anymore
She writes for herself
She writes for her world