Don't be sad or self defeating, there is no such thing as 'not good enough'
fact is fact and you are allowed to be stubborn. Don't change your feelings.
So what if you are mopey and programmed to being love struck?
Does the lightning really harm you?
I find myself picturing a future composed of repetitions of the present. and guess what? You are not in it. You are not here. I could hold on to my stupid notions that are not mine. I want a house in which I can trap you. You know I did think of getting pregnant just so maybe I could have you. That isn't me. Those were just silly notions that flought into my head that really meant 'gee, he is slipping from my grips.' Why would I want to own you? That is not me.
I am loose.
I see stupid people around me, everyday. Prudes, fakers, them. And I am like them. Stupid people that need to talk their shit out loud because they can't listen to silence. I think I know what love is. I think I know what kind of love I want to give. I don't want to own you. Fuck that.
but there is this hole that needs constant affirmation- so I gotta tell myself.
I need to make this love worth my while. I think I know what love is. I think I know what kind of love I want to give. I believe in magic and affirmation and tracing invisible lines. I believe in all for nothing, in what the hell. I believe in hanging up just to make the call again (with a different message this time). I believe in grand gestures and not giving a fuck if they stare. Let them. Allow yourself to actually say what you want to say. and if maybe there is no one who can really listen, tell it to yourself.
I can be wild and authentic. I am no mistake just a work in progress. And if any asshole wants to pin me down for yesterday's actions/words, what a silly mother fucker. Guess what? You can't pin me to anything. I am Huayrapamushka. NatchaKee Tawara. Love is the only reason. Don't stop. Embrace yourself for that is the only thing that is truly yours, but hey, Give Yourself Away! Paint it pink and black and shed a bloodstream. If you must bleed, bleed in kisses agreement. Love will become you and you will be the answer. And you will get there. So don't wait.
Saturday, December 19, 2015
Tuesday, September 29, 2015
clothes and relationships
a mild fever
sprained ankle that takes f o r e v e r to cure
headache
I can't sleep.
Can't control my thoughts
my actions suck.
I want to rely on people.
It is common to lose clothes in the washer. Sometime in between taking of your clothes, picking it up from wherever you dropped it, getting it into the hamper, separating it by color and quality of fabric, washing it, drying it, maybe iron it (I rarely go through that hassle.), folding it, putting it back in the drawer/ dresser/ hanger, somewhere in between that long never ending process items get lost. sometimes they come back. you find them in obvious places. Sometimes it takes months maybe even years. Yes, really, years. But sometimes they are just lost. Forever.
And you never get to know how it happened.
Where did you go? And how come I keep losing you? And why I won't forget you once I realize you are lost. I keep on longing. For a different past, a nicer present, a perfect future. Keep on longing for a letter from you.
Why do we feel attachment to things? To people? Why am I so obsessed? How come every time I go to a store without money I feel like I want it all but when I get there with money and the desire to buy it suddenly becomes this impossible task? Nothing fits quite right. And when I finally find an item, and buy it, the excitement wears out after a few days and then I realize I decided all wrong. This shoes are not right. It's too late, can't return them now. I'm stuck in this shoes.
It takes forever to know someone you feel right with. It takes forever. Looking back in past relationships, when I was most excited was when I didn't have this people, rather I had the illusion of maybe sometime soon having this person. Because when I do love someone that loves me, I am bound to think less of them.
I have been acting like a brat for the most of my life. Reckless, ungrateful, entitled. My whole third grade year I kept losing my jackets at school. My mom stopped buying them for me so I'd learn to take care of them. I never searched for them. I would just lose them and leave-it-at-that. I still do the leave-it-at-that, why bother searching? Because, who wants to be this person that goes crazy mad and loses time for material things?
When I lose a person I do go mad. I think they know it. I communicate it. But, its not like a relationship can be searched for once it is lost. Screaming begging crazy doesn't help. You just have to say 'thank you, goodbye'. I wish to know if there is a way to find you and never lose you. and never feel like you must be worth a little if you think I am worth a lot.
I have way too many shoes and not one pair is perfect. I keep on going to the wrong stores. When I know how a right store looks like. I know what I like yet I don't go for it. and when it comes to people, it is like, I am doing it all wrong.
sprained ankle that takes f o r e v e r to cure
headache
I can't sleep.
Can't control my thoughts
my actions suck.
I want to rely on people.
It is common to lose clothes in the washer. Sometime in between taking of your clothes, picking it up from wherever you dropped it, getting it into the hamper, separating it by color and quality of fabric, washing it, drying it, maybe iron it (I rarely go through that hassle.), folding it, putting it back in the drawer/ dresser/ hanger, somewhere in between that long never ending process items get lost. sometimes they come back. you find them in obvious places. Sometimes it takes months maybe even years. Yes, really, years. But sometimes they are just lost. Forever.
And you never get to know how it happened.
Where did you go? And how come I keep losing you? And why I won't forget you once I realize you are lost. I keep on longing. For a different past, a nicer present, a perfect future. Keep on longing for a letter from you.
Why do we feel attachment to things? To people? Why am I so obsessed? How come every time I go to a store without money I feel like I want it all but when I get there with money and the desire to buy it suddenly becomes this impossible task? Nothing fits quite right. And when I finally find an item, and buy it, the excitement wears out after a few days and then I realize I decided all wrong. This shoes are not right. It's too late, can't return them now. I'm stuck in this shoes.
It takes forever to know someone you feel right with. It takes forever. Looking back in past relationships, when I was most excited was when I didn't have this people, rather I had the illusion of maybe sometime soon having this person. Because when I do love someone that loves me, I am bound to think less of them.
I have been acting like a brat for the most of my life. Reckless, ungrateful, entitled. My whole third grade year I kept losing my jackets at school. My mom stopped buying them for me so I'd learn to take care of them. I never searched for them. I would just lose them and leave-it-at-that. I still do the leave-it-at-that, why bother searching? Because, who wants to be this person that goes crazy mad and loses time for material things?
When I lose a person I do go mad. I think they know it. I communicate it. But, its not like a relationship can be searched for once it is lost. Screaming begging crazy doesn't help. You just have to say 'thank you, goodbye'. I wish to know if there is a way to find you and never lose you. and never feel like you must be worth a little if you think I am worth a lot.
I have way too many shoes and not one pair is perfect. I keep on going to the wrong stores. When I know how a right store looks like. I know what I like yet I don't go for it. and when it comes to people, it is like, I am doing it all wrong.
Tuesday, June 23, 2015
dias en veda
los días pasan , te(/me) digo que he cambiado, pero la verdad es que los días pasan y yo soy siempre igual. siempre ausente. nadie sabe que me acostumbre a no estar. no participar en sus juegos, en sus clases, en sus labores. los días pasan y yo aun en otro lado, siempre estoy acá.
me dijiste que era en mi donde debía proyectar toda mi fuerza, me dijiste que me transforme. te dije que yo ya era. los días y los estímulos y la fuerza pasan y me siento otra, mas fuerte, mas sabia, menos sonsa. pero eso no es real, la fuerza me atraviesa y soy/seré la misma siempre. mis hábitos cambian, mis pensamientos también, pero por dentro hay algo, que me obliga a no estar presente.
son muchas las veces en las que pienso antes de una vida - si es que algo debe cambiar - pienso que antes de buscarme una vida en la que este yo presente alimentándome/los, como hormiguita, antes, antes, primero pienso en ser institucionalizada, dejarme estar completamente no presente, cero, menos que cero, solo irme de una vez dentro de mi cabeza, aun si es una vulgar dirección.
me veía hormiga constructora, de mi propia empresa
y ese sera siempre mi disfraz,
todos tienen un blazer negro en su guardarropa, yo también.
Ni arrancándome el corazón te olvido,
de luz pasaste a ser otra herida
abierta.
yo no soy hormiga, aun si cada mañana me lo pido de rodillas
'muévete linda, ... '
y a pesar de los esfuerzos de mis maestros, tampoco soy grillo
mi canción no suena
y en silencio soy,
pendeja.
como chicle ando pegada al espacio de veda
gamucita negra y pelo sucio y destinturado
mancha en la pared soy
la ultima de la horda de 'las no deseadas'
me siento junto al publico
sin aplaudir,
y aun si le ruego a la noche y al big bang
no soy fuerza creadora
me limito al sueño
a mi cama
a construir castillos en el cielo
y el mas arrecho de todos, ese no me topa.
los días pasan
y ya me jode la herida que me hace tu imagen
lloro desde mi ventana
ni falta hace ser esterilizada
y, es que, nadie sabe que yo hago falta.
me dijiste que era en mi donde debía proyectar toda mi fuerza, me dijiste que me transforme. te dije que yo ya era. los días y los estímulos y la fuerza pasan y me siento otra, mas fuerte, mas sabia, menos sonsa. pero eso no es real, la fuerza me atraviesa y soy/seré la misma siempre. mis hábitos cambian, mis pensamientos también, pero por dentro hay algo, que me obliga a no estar presente.
son muchas las veces en las que pienso antes de una vida - si es que algo debe cambiar - pienso que antes de buscarme una vida en la que este yo presente alimentándome/los, como hormiguita, antes, antes, primero pienso en ser institucionalizada, dejarme estar completamente no presente, cero, menos que cero, solo irme de una vez dentro de mi cabeza, aun si es una vulgar dirección.
me veía hormiga constructora, de mi propia empresa
y ese sera siempre mi disfraz,
todos tienen un blazer negro en su guardarropa, yo también.
Ni arrancándome el corazón te olvido,
de luz pasaste a ser otra herida
abierta.
yo no soy hormiga, aun si cada mañana me lo pido de rodillas
'muévete linda, ... '
y a pesar de los esfuerzos de mis maestros, tampoco soy grillo
mi canción no suena
y en silencio soy,
pendeja.
como chicle ando pegada al espacio de veda
gamucita negra y pelo sucio y destinturado
mancha en la pared soy
la ultima de la horda de 'las no deseadas'
me siento junto al publico
sin aplaudir,
y aun si le ruego a la noche y al big bang
no soy fuerza creadora
me limito al sueño
a mi cama
a construir castillos en el cielo
y el mas arrecho de todos, ese no me topa.
los días pasan
y ya me jode la herida que me hace tu imagen
lloro desde mi ventana
ni falta hace ser esterilizada
y, es que, nadie sabe que yo hago falta.
Tuesday, April 21, 2015
Dreaming. Done. When?
When dreaming is done, when dreaming is done
( ... ) dreaming. Done.
When dreaming is done I am still dreaming. There is always more.
Write whose name is composed of tender letters
lay it under the moon during a whole cycle
Kiss your hands and fingers, thinking of his letters
full moist lip. do it on a daily basis.
one letter, two letters, three letters, four letters, five,
six letters.
during that whole cycle.
Save his name in pink envelope
leave it under your pillow
lucid dreams of you making love to his letters
as they make love to you.
Dream for another full cycle.
Make up a chant and touch yourself
mimic the way you would touch him,
if he'd let you
Nonesense! Nonesense! I make no sense!
When dreaming is done, when dreaming is done
( ... ) dreaming. Done.
When dreaming is done I still lay in my bed. Eyes open.
I cannot be sure of my eyes.
I cannot be sure of the 'I'.
And for hell I cannot trust this chants, this feelings, this dreams.
I cannot trust your love.
I cannot trust you denying me.
When will you take me?
When dreaming is done, when dreaming is done
( ... ) dreaming. Done.
When dreaming is - NOTHING IS DONE if it was dreaming.
if you sometimes mix up dreams and reality, then reality isn't done either!
When the deed is done, when the deed is done
When will you have me?
Fuck the moderns and they're modern love
Fuck individuality
Fuck passions
Fuck deciding between goals or other sort of goals
Fuck the type of feminism that dictates
>< I cannot just think of being loved by you.><
I do. I do. I do!
I do. I do. I do!
I reject the I.
I reject the I.
I reject the eye.
I reject the dream.
Is this why you must reject me?
( ... ) dreaming. Done.
When dreaming is done I am still dreaming. There is always more.
Write whose name is composed of tender letters
lay it under the moon during a whole cycle
Kiss your hands and fingers, thinking of his letters
full moist lip. do it on a daily basis.
one letter, two letters, three letters, four letters, five,
six letters.
during that whole cycle.
Save his name in pink envelope
leave it under your pillow
lucid dreams of you making love to his letters
as they make love to you.
Dream for another full cycle.
Make up a chant and touch yourself
mimic the way you would touch him,
if he'd let you
I invest my love on the Power of Pink
Send me to my love and in return of his receiving
I pay in full form the letter 'I'.
...
When dreaming is done, when dreaming is done
( ... ) dreaming. Done.
When dreaming is done I still lay in my bed. Eyes open.
I cannot be sure of my eyes.
I cannot be sure of the 'I'.
And for hell I cannot trust this chants, this feelings, this dreams.
I cannot trust your love.
I cannot trust you denying me.
When will you take me?
When dreaming is done, when dreaming is done
( ... ) dreaming. Done.
When dreaming is - NOTHING IS DONE if it was dreaming.
if you sometimes mix up dreams and reality, then reality isn't done either!
When the deed is done, when the deed is done
When will you have me?
Fuck the moderns and they're modern love
Fuck individuality
Fuck passions
Fuck deciding between goals or other sort of goals
Fuck the type of feminism that dictates
>< I cannot just think of being loved by you.><
I do. I do. I do!
Help me erase my letters
by making them something much sweeter.
Thorns turns and fuck
Thorns!
Child's kiss gone
'Kuss, well it's gone
They walk me home through the city's black dust.
Thick petroleum is the water that feeds the flowers
Every step I take, there
luscious velvetine oath Covered In Thorns.
Oh how they prick the soles in me!
So I seat in the gravel next to my miserable friends
we eat our noodles
we get fatter hoping we'd get wiser
as we exchange shit for shit.
A wife beater set up cactis in my window,
hoping someday they'd give flowers
I don't water them
they're thorn-screwed bodies
survive,strive,survive
when you rise, fuck that, thorn ladder rising
Diagonal/lateral/language shit
Fuck my love.
Fuck it up and
get hurt. Fuck it up.
Child's kiss gone
'Kuss, well it's gone
They walk me home through the city's black dust.
Thick petroleum is the water that feeds the flowers
Every step I take, there
luscious velvetine oath Covered In Thorns.
Oh how they prick the soles in me!
So I seat in the gravel next to my miserable friends
we eat our noodles
we get fatter hoping we'd get wiser
as we exchange shit for shit.
A wife beater set up cactis in my window,
hoping someday they'd give flowers
I don't water them
they're thorn-screwed bodies
survive,strive,survive
when you rise, fuck that, thorn ladder rising
Diagonal/lateral/language shit
Fuck my love.
Fuck it up and
get hurt. Fuck it up.
Thursday, April 09, 2015
wreck less
wreck less beauty that sparks
I cannot spare you
my blood is my kiss
my skin longs for your yearning.
Which of my scars screams your name? None.
It is in my eyes where I learned to love you. It is in my brain,
it thinks it knows what is behind every of your gestures.
It is in my ears which you've enamoured taking them each time to a new and better adventure!
My hands must hold you and create words/worlds that portray you.
I am young and I bleed
irregular cycles
there is no way on telling time
unless the time is now.
Don't trust my word
Trust my writing.
wreck less (silent) I'm fading.
Came with a gift and a purpose
but for me it is idle play
if I can't be your idol.
Scorn, wretched and reckless
when there is no beauty that sparks.
I want to be your mirror.
Her youth is no promise
Her fixed solitude is what's tantalizing.
She finds success in loving.
and when it stops, it stops.
Blood keeps on dripping
and hair will keep on growing.
I cannot spare you
my blood is my kiss
my skin longs for your yearning.
Which of my scars screams your name? None.
It is in my eyes where I learned to love you. It is in my brain,
it thinks it knows what is behind every of your gestures.
It is in my ears which you've enamoured taking them each time to a new and better adventure!
My hands must hold you and create words/worlds that portray you.
I am young and I bleed
irregular cycles
there is no way on telling time
unless the time is now.
Don't trust my word
Trust my writing.
wreck less (silent) I'm fading.
Came with a gift and a purpose
but for me it is idle play
if I can't be your idol.
Scorn, wretched and reckless
when there is no beauty that sparks.
I want to be your mirror.
Her youth is no promise
Her fixed solitude is what's tantalizing.
She finds success in loving.
and when it stops, it stops.
Blood keeps on dripping
and hair will keep on growing.
Monday, March 23, 2015
Wednesday, March 11, 2015
My Pink Sweater
black black black black black blue the deepest blue dirty blue gloomy cloudy hazy blue black
My Pink Sweater
He travelled over 8978 miles to see me.
I didn't know what to do so I looked into his eyes
I reached for his hand we holded eachother for a while
but then he pushed me away.
Took my bed and my bread and
my pink sweater.
He came
delated. without care of appearances. Without care
he came and though hostile
he was ever gentle, gentle is his nature.
Silent reserved inmersed
It is summer but the sky was grey and he felt like going out with a sweater
he put it on and he looked so good. Inside my pink sweater.
(You were born to wear my pink sweater.
I was born so I could lend it to you.
My pink sweater simply exists
unconditional.)
Take off my pink sweater if you can't handle the heat.
Threw it to the ground you did and never gave another glance to it.
Though it followed you crawling getting tangled with your feet
My dirty pink sweater it follows you.
Through the streets in the bathroom while you shower every time you catch some other girls eye when a man talks to you as you meditate during the phone with your mother in the alley in a bar at the corner store getting some apples ginger bacon next to you when you read the newspaper when you take my hand and ask for picture of yourself with yourself always trying to get away from the pink sweater tired of the feeling a warm hue gives you at times you hang it around your shoulders take care of the cashmere fluff and dust off my beautiful pink sweater. It follows you.
I am dancing in the arms of another man
he buys me drinks I didn't want but I take them
and keep on dancing.
Black crop top got a cage bearing my back
if you would only see me.
his left hand holds my hand
his right hand parked in my navel
this is me dancing with another.
he keeps buying me drinks without noticing I no longer have a pink sweater.
my cat licks my arm, no rest
she licks
she licks
she licks
how many stings does her tongue hold?
she loves and it is a love that hurts
beautiful thing I want you near.
You tucked my pink sweater in your bag
You don't want it but you take it as a habit.
now it lays outside your doorstep
beautiful doormat
waiting
to fill the space, color your walls pink hot
comfortable present.
Hold you tight when you are inside me
Pink lips kissing sucking eating your Pink tip
you say that you don't want this.
hold you tighter in the winter just grab my pink sweater darling.
It will be laying on your doorstep
calling you
calling me
months of men holding my navel not caring if I'm without a pink sweater.
without it my glasses don't match so I'll be dancing blind. Why would you leave with my pink sweater and not drop word? You so silent.
I'll have to walk into your doorstep and ring your bell
so I can finally say
'Ok, so I guess I'm taking my pink sweater back'
My Pink Sweater
He travelled over 8978 miles to see me.
I didn't know what to do so I looked into his eyes
I reached for his hand we holded eachother for a while
but then he pushed me away.
Took my bed and my bread and
my pink sweater.
He came
delated. without care of appearances. Without care
he came and though hostile
he was ever gentle, gentle is his nature.
Silent reserved inmersed
It is summer but the sky was grey and he felt like going out with a sweater
he put it on and he looked so good. Inside my pink sweater.
(You were born to wear my pink sweater.
I was born so I could lend it to you.
My pink sweater simply exists
unconditional.)
Take off my pink sweater if you can't handle the heat.
Threw it to the ground you did and never gave another glance to it.
Though it followed you crawling getting tangled with your feet
My dirty pink sweater it follows you.
Through the streets in the bathroom while you shower every time you catch some other girls eye when a man talks to you as you meditate during the phone with your mother in the alley in a bar at the corner store getting some apples ginger bacon next to you when you read the newspaper when you take my hand and ask for picture of yourself with yourself always trying to get away from the pink sweater tired of the feeling a warm hue gives you at times you hang it around your shoulders take care of the cashmere fluff and dust off my beautiful pink sweater. It follows you.
I am dancing in the arms of another man
he buys me drinks I didn't want but I take them
and keep on dancing.
Black crop top got a cage bearing my back
if you would only see me.
his left hand holds my hand
his right hand parked in my navel
this is me dancing with another.
he keeps buying me drinks without noticing I no longer have a pink sweater.
my cat licks my arm, no rest
she licks
she licks
she licks
how many stings does her tongue hold?
she loves and it is a love that hurts
beautiful thing I want you near.
You tucked my pink sweater in your bag
You don't want it but you take it as a habit.
now it lays outside your doorstep
beautiful doormat
waiting
to fill the space, color your walls pink hot
comfortable present.
Hold you tight when you are inside me
Pink lips kissing sucking eating your Pink tip
you say that you don't want this.
hold you tighter in the winter just grab my pink sweater darling.
It will be laying on your doorstep
calling you
calling me
months of men holding my navel not caring if I'm without a pink sweater.
without it my glasses don't match so I'll be dancing blind. Why would you leave with my pink sweater and not drop word? You so silent.
I'll have to walk into your doorstep and ring your bell
so I can finally say
'Ok, so I guess I'm taking my pink sweater back'
Wednesday, January 21, 2015
Morir
si,
pero antes decir gracias.
Aun si corrompido este el cuerpo dejar fresco aroma.
Calido recuerdo , sonrisa
murmullo. Can-can.
Beña junto al puño
Ojo picaron
golpe = caricia.
Solo se hacer el amor
en orgasmo suave
me vengo
entrego
gesto
pujo
sana creacion
De la misma manera me voy.
Sin decir adios
Bienvenido sos
miamorrrrr.
si,
pero antes decir gracias.
Aun si corrompido este el cuerpo dejar fresco aroma.
Calido recuerdo , sonrisa
murmullo. Can-can.
Beña junto al puño
Ojo picaron
golpe = caricia.
Solo se hacer el amor
en orgasmo suave
me vengo
entrego
gesto
pujo
sana creacion
De la misma manera me voy.
Sin decir adios
Bienvenido sos
miamorrrrr.
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