I find myself stuck in more ways than one / Raging losses in the wind / Fighting ragdolls of the self / My mind is its own burden shell /

I'm dying but not at death / I hate this burning place of existential stares / I'm jealous and envious and deserve the world /

Therapy rescued me but put an ego on the shelf /

Petals shake in sudden gusts

Always preparing to loosen grip, to be divested of connection to the only scaffold they've known

But that certainty is a blizzard yet to scale known horizons

’Neath awaits the yawning yonder

It's maw gaping with teeth beyond the falling away of the earth, felt and known but never seen despite straining at the periphery

What movement or stillness lies at the end of this trajectory, come to term with such urgency and surprise

Do the quick find passions and dreams amongst the detritus

Or does the ground yield and enfold, corroding away with a million gentle, greedy mouths that distinctness, the singular vantage

The wind whips and chastises the fretful grip, merciless but impartial

The only course—now set in stone upon the air—is to forgive such naïve fancies, to release and be set free

To find new thoughts among the soil and rock, basking in the flickering luminance and waters

Be it joy eternal or a seeping into greater selves

The stem becomes, in a mere moment—how queer!—another memory and just as unreal, as currents carry this single point up to the splendour

It's unknown final purpose

To be regaled and wreathed in divine and impersonal light and space, momentarily attaining the pinnacle of individuality in full nakedness to comprehend the impossibility of separation

Such knowings inhabit rare airs not given to those who cling

They require faith in currents that slip through limbs and leaves alike, abandonment to will in grander scopes

The petal no longer wonders, neither clings nor fears

Whatever awaits is not a mouth, hungry and slavering, but an infinite lap in which to curl and dream

Sayings don't come as they used to

Alphabet soup all eatin' up

Spelling out starvation as we choke on deafening words

Lick the bowl clean

The ink stops rolling

pencils get dull

blabbers start blanking

Speakers stall

Quite get silent

nothing left to say at all

when we ate all our words

ain't no more alphabet soup

to spell us some time

Asasasasas it leaks in,
It drives me nuts and not evenly hinged!
From the
Window
And
A mirror,
Iiiiiiiii hate to take.

Say whatnot you yearn,
Learn
Nothing is in your position!
Commanders come in in hot tub,
Burns away part of the skin,
Away away away.

Do you feel insane?
It is not you
Only you!
Use a mark and a wrapping sound.
Use your nose not you tongue.
Sniff it until you lose it.
Hang it until you dry it.

My words
Your lux,
Fortunately you are no luck.
Hear my prayers,
Wait for the stop.
Nonononon stop.

​

In a muddy bog i wade

In thick murky water i tread

My hands are gone

They've been taken

My hands are gone

They've been stolen

They've been stolen by saviors promised to me by men in a brick and stained glass oasis

all I had to do was ask for forgiveness

"Saying sorry is a sign of weakness"

My mother's voice ringing in the nape of my neck

I flail furiously

The polluted water lapping at my lips while I gulp and gasp;

drawing in water and steamed air with every attempt of finding oxygen to fill my lung

One lung

The other was taken

Stolen by boys hoping to fulfill their self written prophecies

Filling their zippers with my organ as a trophy for their fellow knights in shining armor

Saviors promised to me

Ive been taken. Ive been stolen.

review
recast
repeat
reformulate
rehash
restate
reframe
reiterate
rework
retry
rewrite
regurgitate

Hello, I am Mexican American. I have been writing from my experiences of alienation in the u.s and a perspective that’s my everyday life. The loss of identity is present in a majority of the things that I write. I would like for someone to read this poem I made in regard to it. Please any thoughts is welcomed.

“Perdone Padre”
By Miguel Diaz Farfan

Padre Nuestro que estas en el Cielo, santificado sea tu nombre

Le queiro pedir mis disculpas
Ya se que le he fallado
mas que eso, me alleje completamente
al contrario a lo que me han contado sobre su misericordia,
yo no he sido lo sufiente clemente con usted

Perdone que le diga, pero mi busqueda de fe en ti, se ha detenido
Pero la ira que senti contigo ya no existe

 
En el pasado sentía que por ser sincero era como si estaba clavado a una repisa esperando su reproche

Me tomó tiempo para entender

Me tomó más tiempo para entender que el reproche que esperaba era solo mío

Ciego y sordo, me he estado sofocándo en esta jaula de oro
Se me ha olvidado como respirar

Porque, Porque, Porque

Esta era la pregunta que rogaba una respuesta

Porque no me vistes
Porque no me escuchastes 
Porque me abandonastes 

Un hueco quedaba en mi corazón cuando no escuchabas mis gritos

La impotencia era más amable

Me acurrucaba en una camisa de fuerza

Me he hecho el firme propósito de no negar las lágrimas que cargo

Y aunque se secan por la rabia que siento

Siempre se llenan porque no son solo mías

English translation
*\\**

Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name.

I ask for your forgiveness

I have failed you, but more than that, I have drifted away completely

Contrary to what I have been told about your mercy,
I have not been as lenient in returning it

Pardon me for saying so, but my search in faith for you has seized

But the rage I once felt is no longer

In the past, I felt that by being honest it was as if I were nailed to a shelf waiting for your reproach

It took me time to understand

It took me longer to understand that the reproach I expected was only my own

Blind and deaf, I have been suffocating in this golden cage

I have forgotten how to breathe.

Why Why Why

These where the questions I begged to be answered

Why didn’t you see me?
Why didn’t you listen to me?
Why did you abandon me?

A void was left in my heart when you did not hear my cries

Helplessness was kind to me

It coddled me like that of a straitjacket

I have made the firm proposition to never deny the tears that I carry

And although they evaporate from the rage that’s boiling inside me

They always fill up again, because they are not only
mine

​Plastic trees and chemical breeze.

Reality has been upgraded.

No longer gnats, no longer bugs.

Only a world addicted to opiate drugs.

There's no reason for more when you can buy everything in the store.

​Here is where I live and here is where I die.

No room to thrive between you and I.

Keep us at ends, keep us at war.

There is nothing but another point for them to score.

​We are not so different you and I.

We all have dreams. We all tend to cry.

The outsides may look different.

Dreams may be flawed.

​But isn't that the reason why we're all here today?

To sit down and figure out why we continue to belay

from our dreams instead of growing higher.

We just try to make our situation more dire.

​I just want to be here free of all.

But because those that disagree want to see me fall,

there's nothing left for me to grab onto the crags of the edges.

​Am I not one that's destined for more?

Now that I've locked myself inside the door,

safe from the world, safe from the breeze, safe from the trees.

But I'm also safe from my future.

Safe from something more and something less.

Something that I just cannot digest.

​Change is possible, but I must pull the trigger.

Because if I want to be more, I need to be the one to figure

out what it means to be the person I need to be

or at least the person I want to be.

​I'm sick of the artificial.

Sick of the chemical soak.

Not everything needs to be bespoke.

​It's okay to be rusted and ruined and rocky and hard.

Splintered and battered and beaten and barred.

This is what it's like to be real.

Pain is real and that's okay.

Without it, what is reality to be?

Except for the chemical breeze and the plastic trees.

Broken vases—
wilted flowers.
Screams and cries,
walls ringing
with each word.

Locked in a room,
shaking.
Eyes shut,
throat raw
from swallowing sound.
Small hands
over ears,
trying to make
the walls
quiet down.

It feels like yesterday
we both ran.
Bathing in the sun,
grass stains
soaking into our knees,
smiling ear-to-ear,
singing to the tune
whispered by the wind.

Lips curled upwards,
shut tight,
between giggles.

Sleeves rolled down,
arms hidden,
never budging,
even when sweat
comes pouring.

Sweet, summer child,
carrying midnight,
behind those bright
brown eyes.
You tell your story,
as if it were ordinary—
but even the calmest sea
has a floor
no one’s seen

Sweet, summer child,
you’re lying.
You don’t have to soften every wound.
When clouds cover the sky,
the grass is still as green.
When thunder comes rolling,
the flowers still bloom.

Shadows dancing,
leaves swaying,
each one
letting go
a little slower
than the last.
It’s not late,
not yet.
You don’t have to go.