A Guide Out Of Self Help and into Love

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.

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.

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.

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

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'. 

...

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.

Help me erase my letters 

by making them something much sweeter. 

I reject the I.
I reject the eye.
I reject the dream.
Is this why you must reject me?

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.

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'd rather do it for love.
I'd rather do it for love.
I'd rather do it for love.

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'

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.

mi mundo en ti.

i don't want to forgive you.
no quiero perdonarme.
nada, huelo
me quiero inclinar sobre ti mientras andamos en el metro.
no quiero nunca llegar
ningún destino
solo caminar, contigo.

yo no escribo poemas
escribo cartas de amor
mensajes de dolor.
me quiero quedar callada
que me vengas a buscar en este seco desierto.
irme, todavía mas lejos. y,
jalar-te
hacia acá, hacia acá.
cuerdas invisibles.
lineas directas
paralelas
distintas velocidades.

no recuerdo tu mirada
mucho menos por que reñimos.
Hay fantasmas que me llaman la atención
con deshonras.
El amor no es venganza.
Débiles los que buscan silenciar el dolor con gestos apresurados.
Yo quiero callar mi boca, para que de ese modo el mundo grite.
Quiero que tu seas ese mundo
habitar en tu hombro
mientras somos
nosotros, cuerpos en movimiento.

flor . muerte

1.*
Brotan hongos de mi cuerpo.
no quiero agua ni medicina.
Los pétalos se han caído.
Me apresure hacia el día de mi muerte,
me parecía una bonita dirección.
De un salto impulse mis raíces fuera de la maceta
y sin sarcófago ahí afuera
me quede.
Por tres años los alegres bailaron
junto a mi cuerpo.
Los necios me daban de beber.
Y tu,
y tu me llamabas.
Eras la luz que me tocaba.
Muerta yo soñaba
ciega ante tu luz.
Ciega, yo soñaba.

Asesina. Fuiste,
asesina.
Vamos quebrando esas macetas ,
una a una, al piso
que quiebra.
Míralas
deslizarse hacia su muerte.
Asesina déjalas ser polvo
y como polvo viajar al horizonte
directo a lo que no es un nuevo mundo. ¿Que es?
¡¿A donde vas?! Asesina,
¿A donde es que vas cuando tu cuerpo ya no pesa?

Yo mate la vida,
Acaricie una vida.
Me mordió esa vida.
Te bese, vida.
Me cagaste el corazón vida.
Cubriré mis ojos con khol negra e iré a tu entierro
vida.

Jamas pose
ni mi alma ni mis pies en un jardín
Jamas tuve maceta
Mis raíces no te encuentran vida
perdida me convertí en  asesina.

despavorida de la luz, me corro
inútil frío no logro quemarme
solo espero poder estrellarme.

Queen of nothing.

No one ever called you princess because you were born a queen. Queen of what? Queen of nothing. Nothing to domain, not even yourself. You are born in dignity, no matter what. No matter, whatever, let them loose. Achieve something that doesn't matter. Human nature, scratch the human, leave the nature. It is all words. No matter. We are made of matter, scratch the matter and there you are, with all the rest. I am God. You don't believe in me because you don't believe in yourself.

Princesses are governed by their mothers and fathers, they obey to that omnipresent creator. Had you not created me, I'd still exist. Had I be given no name, had you never called me, I'd still be. I am not in the I. I am not in your love. I am near. No one dares to have me. No one dares to take me. No one dares to love me. Don't you dare, i will never leave you, I was never with you. I am with all of them, them natural beings.

First, I lived on silly books.
Then I moved to Buenos Aires.
Then I went back home, Quito, and I ravelled.
I fucked and I spit. And I took drugs.
I love you them all, but then I left you. Just like so many have left me.
Now I live in Lima, and now I know South America sucks.
I'm not pissing my pants anymore.
Queen of no domains.
Queen without rule.
Between discipline and nature I choose nature.
I could go to Europe and see the one that sucks is me.
And I might just do that.
But I should just decide, to hide
in a tree.
Hide from my unsensitive socialité dreams.

I am a Queen and the only order I will give
will be to myself, when I finally say
'Off with my own head'

It is about what is underneath our organs. Every morning I wake up wishing I would just die, I hear the words come out of your mouth and I say ‘Craaaa aaa aaap!’. Then I’m out, buildings are falling because homes never rose. I just glance at shit, broken roads, bad weeds, beggars everywhere. I learned not to look. We all learned, we have to.

I wake up and I don’t see the point in dying. I am cold and there is nothing worth it. I enter rooms and it’s all chill. Been injesting ‘somas’ since, hell, I can’t remember when I started. But the doze now is higher. Tight dress, don’t care, cab fare, no complaints just get me to the venue, my friends don’t hug, they just say ‘Open your mouth’ and then, then it is all a fog. Thank god.

It is all darkness. I float through darkness and I see you. I see you, I see you. I feel you. What tunnel? Why walk into a light if the light is me?  
No shame in anything that is natural in me. See me bleed, see my tears.
We are magic. 

Ten Shades Darker

I am ten shades darker, not one bit stronger
Hair long on flare, from time, dyes, 'don't care'
Have seen upon my reflection
I am a fog kaleidoscope, vague and vain colorful self.
Have gazed upon the magnitude of ONE, so many doors to so many  distant places, i don't have them addresses so I choose to wander with the mad instead.
I am ten times drunkest, shared my cup with them vulgar so called artists (modern Bukowskis you have no clue of the manner of a young Henry Chinaski)
'don't bother'

My skin is coarse
My courage is high,
had the lot,
been with the worst.
My spirit got rejected by
the clean, the cool, the punk, the hive,
by you.


I am ten shades darker,
sun hissed 'don't know'.
I am ten times drunkest,
raise my cup when I think of you.
I am ten times kinder,
learned to give the nasty it's proper place so you wouldn't have to deal with my rants.
I am ten times more in love for you.

Guns may blaze, I remain.
Are you a dream? Anyway, 'It's all the same'
I am a bruise, dried up, ill versed, fucked up, 'leave it at that'
I am still dancing when I dream this dream of you and me.

Let them spit when they think of me (do they ever?)
It is clear to me for when I go outside into the streets, it is no longer I carressing the heads of flower selling beggar kids, but it is them kissing my steps. (Bless them kids)

The sun may hiss and hiss
The moon sings softly into my ear.
I will make it without you
I am ALL HEART
and I know that in time above my lonely grave bracing flowers will bash
 with the sun, the moon
and them stars.

Venus tiene los ojos pesados.

Venus después de la fiesta, el único corazón roto es el suyo.
Venus planeta olvidado
duerme sin órbita.
Ha pegado sus ojos a la almohada pues teme que al despertar, sus amantes la hayan olvidado.

'Estas tan lejos Casiopea, podrías estar recostada en esta cama y tenerme entre tus brazos, seguiría sintiéndote lejana. Todas están lejos.'

Es una habitación gigante, sin muros,
una cama vieja y pequeña, ella duerme envuelta en Esmeraldas.
Abajo, no se sabe si hay piso, es una enredadera de cartuchos, y serpientes grandes que no paran de enroscarse unas con otras. Venus duerme
no sabe que mas hacer. Esta cansada de jugar.
Se niega a tomarse algo en serio. No hay con quien bailar.

Los demás dioses andan ocupados, organizando guerras, redactando teorías, construyendo puentes, inspirando a humanos, el solo pensar en tanta actividad la agota.
A veces se siente impaciente, así que se levanta y arregla su cabello,
piensa en encontrarse con Magdalena, pero al rato se da cuenta lo largo que es el viaje.
Desganada se deja morder por la serpiente criada en jardines de Amapolas, vuelve a dormir.
Musita palabras que nadie oirá.
Ella es eterna. Es una condena.

Diciembre 2, 2008
3:17pm

'What troubles me more is the sight of his back as he walks away...'

Damn

marzo 3, 2009 (no se a que va esto)


intente encajar la llave en el orifico

mi punteria suele fallar

el genero no libera mi deseo

equellas excusas ahora pueden ir al excusado

Dial 69 For Sex

Junio 12, 2012
10:48 pm

Cory lived in a single room apartment where her bed, and kitchen coexisted with all the rest. It was winter at the time though it felt like a cold spring day. The sun was distant but its rays were persistant. The small room consisted of a tiny single folding plastic table, a matching plastic chair, and a canister full of fashion magazines, twin size bed used as a couch as well, where she sat spreadily and a pink celular phone. 

Life was easy and private. She got more beauty sleep than prescribed, and had no aspirations. She found joy in the little things. Time for contemplation, enough discipline for daily body lotion application. Magazines, books, shōjo manga. Nights out for dancing, lunch with friends, movies alone. 

Her job wasn't half bad. It didn't require any sort of grooming, transportation. All she had to do was wait by the phone from 9 to 3, answer it, and make the interlocutor come. It did require attention, she was a perfectionist. She was good. The pink phone was only turned on during those hours. Body cleansed and groomed she would go for it. She had her fun. 

Numerous amounts of sexual relationships were formed during those hours. She never faked it. Which was hard with new costumers, if you don't click, you don't click. She wanted them to click and fit, fit into that roar. But most were gross, stupid men, they didn't listen. Why did they call if all they wanted was to jerk off. She went with the flow, she was always polite, she was always protected. 
She liked her regulars, they always clicked, they made her come. They were good. It was hot.

Shadow Heart. (Dec 17, 2012)

It was a fortunate moment when he decided to stay put and quiet. There was something strange going on inside her body, as he pumped her with his erection she felt this strange pressure, it was not painful but incredibly unpleasant. So they stopped, but only for a moment. Her love was a whole, his member on that moment was small. He got up from the floor where they had been laying in order to make no noise (some beds can do so much nagging.) He held his hand in front of her and helped her get up.

Lights were out.
There were shadows and sad hearts.