Used pink condom on my high school parking lot

Reminded me of all the things I never got to do
young guys with savvy new cars; they’d just turn sixteen and were able to drive then
rich parents that allowed them to drive 60 miles per hour on a 35 miles per hour road
chicks with bleach blonde striped highlights and mini skirts
going to parties invited by in-town college dudes
skater boys with smokes in their lungs
and hard cold chest and perked nipples
goth dudes in the corner of the hallways reading something wild
punk dudes who ask you what your favorite planet is, and they claim theirs is Uranus
cool dudes who don’t care about the future
jocks and school presidents that do
privileged rights
and those struggling at homes
kids with identity crisis
brown kids in white schools and black clicks and
nerds who were gay and couldn’t hide it
teacher’s pet with a long nose
boys by the locker with growing armpit hairs
and pimples on their skin that drove me to want an older man so bad
government teacher probably twenty plus older who cursed and was going through a divorce
gym teachers who flirted with girls in tiny athletic shorts
guy outside the school bus window that I could never be with
guy walking on the wrong side of the hallway
after school sports events that I never got to stay at
where the parking turned into a different sort of lot
runs havoc down the pit of my gut
pink condom on the high school parking lot
thinking of all the wild fucks that happened inside a sports car
when I walked over
with books held over my heart

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What I never wanted

You came to my door amid the storm and rain like a wild bird
exposing your soul
so I took you in
You stayed by the door, and I waited for you to leave
but you lingered
then I don’t know what you said
but you said the most perfect thing;
something along the way of how you’re so turned on by me
in the most raw and condemnable way
and I couldn’t help but be swayed by your lure
not sure if you’re a lure or a savior
but you said all the right things and did all the right things
that just took me higher and higher
and now we’re coasting



Would you take me there…
like a spaceship to a planet
a stair to heaven
wherever that is
are you the journey to a destination
that never ends?

Can you be the final point, please?
My humanness can’t take it;
all these theories
I want you and I want you and I want you and I want you
right now
but what do I want?
and who are you…

I’m spinning
lying on the ground numb
without a care for anything any more


Boy crush

He was a guy she couldn’t identify, for the life of her
but he smiled
and he had a great body
and he was perfect in every way possible
he was nice to everybody, and everybody wanted a piece of him
he knew it, but remained humble

That’s what she liked most about him; not that he was extraordinary, but because he was so chill
and it was just too hot for her
his body blazing when he changed shirts

He could be doing it for her, because she watched him from afar
his freedom shone next to the window light amid the dark
as he shook his wet hair
she sighed, and fell into a mattress made of clouds
on there, it was just he and her
flying high, with no barriers between them
just four eyes, and lips; so close to each other
that they could almost kiss
and seal the deal for lifetimes
there’d be only games to play
and fields to run in

Able bodied and ready for the next thing
not pawn to life
no concern for time
in an infinite field of joy
full of flowers

The caress of his fingers over her cheek
the subtle kiss of his soft lips on her neck
the gentle stroke of his hand on her hair that let her know that he truly cared
way more than she thought
is it a dream if what you exactly wanted came true?
He looked at her and told her
as he shook his head no
Amid the confusion, he hushed her lips
then kissed them
embedding in his gentle tongue
she was everything he now wanted
and all of this was everything she wanted

The an to the tho of my NyNy

It might have been last night, if you just pretend that it is. He’s just somebody so insignificant, that it’s massive to think how he’s filling up the entire universe this second. No one said anything lasted for eternity, but if it did for a few minutes that night, then it might have been significant. I could go on and on about how he’s like a paint drying on a wall, but then that’s just a bit bitter. I can come up with a zillion reasons on how he’s so unattractive to me, mostly personality wise, but we were so similar in a brief moment together.

Similar in that we ran towards pretty things and thought that we were wild at heart. Thirsting for more and not satiated. We did talk about a thing or two together that clicked with us; including a few sentences about his douchey one dollar man-purse that his prestigious self got from a thrift store, and a picture of his flower painting that he was so proud to rave about. Really, I could have drawn that too but I had maybe one percent interest in drawing at that time. It was something that always felt innate, like breathing; something so insignificant. Why would it be something that you boasted about? But nevertheless, on that third or whatever unplanned meeting at the bar with him alongside a few acquaintances, I glanced at his mediocre painting and fake-ly rooted him on. Our conversation was dry, although I had cared enough to try at one time to make it better in our earlier meeting. I had given up by that third time or so.

It wasn’t like that first night when I saw a guy walking downtown as I waited awkwardly in an acquaintance friend’s car. She got out of the car saying “Anthony!” and hugged him while I wondered who he was. She was a socialite and he was just another one millionth friend. I was way too shy in comparison.

Inside the bar, as a consequence of our desperation, I flashed a smile, stayed quiet, let the music ring, watched him get drunk and allowed him to open his heart to say some really insignificant things that I don’t, for the life of me, remember at all. Whatever it was, I guess he was vulnerable, and although I didn’t drink, I was just as desperate and lonely too. It was wild enough that he asked for my number sometime before we left; another very insignificant thing. But what made my heart beam that next morning was a text message from him (back in the day when texts were sort of not that common) that read
“You are amazingly beautiful.”

Fuck. That made my day. It was validated that I was smoldering and uncontrollably gorgeous by a vulnerable drunk and desperate art-major dude from my university one night. This dude was it; I had always sort of wanted to be with a hipster liberal dude as I had thought that maybe we would have some significant things in common, and virtually all guys that I had encountered were so average and lacked depth. I wanted it, all this artsy wild stuff, while I pursued my studies in science like a sheep among the immigrant herd. But if you assess him, you’d see that his rich parents were lawyers and he just “wanted to” do art ’cause it probably tickled his fancy somewhat. Like with everything, he was halfway there. Like me, maybe, if I was in his shoes too…

Amid our boredom, he was the next big thing for me for maybe a day’s worth of significance in my life. Desperate I probably looked, asking him to develop some films for me after I hunted him down at his temporary art library desk job. It was just a business affair, you know, I wasn’t realllly trying to get to the next level with him. He could smell it like a wolf, and had lost interest in me probably, like any artist would when something is within reach. Too bad I denied the hint then.

He never returned my films. What’s worse is that he followed Jenny. The same chick that happened to be there the first night we had met, but was on the sidelines. Why wouldn’t he? Besides the fact that I was bewilderingly beautiful and the queen of the universe in my head, she had bare thighs, thin dress, and long blonde hair. On the other hand, most likely I was average and wore choice less basic jeans. I mean why wouldn’t the artist NyNy go after Jenny.

As soon as he followed her, I lost my interest in him. I mean, why the hell would he go after dark haired girls when there’s Jenny’s bare thighs.

So that’s why I lacked interest in the picture of his mediocre painting on the thirdish night that we had encountered each other. I didn’t even mention that one additional night where we had hung out together with our mutual acquaintance friends and he accidentally burned my upper cheek with his cigarette. I still have a subtle scar from it. He was such a hot mess and he was genuinely so afraid and sorry. But I smiled through the agony of having my perfect skin get scarred with a peppy, “It’s ok!” and continued laughing about. His worried look over shone my fake ~okays.~ He could probably sniff that about me too, just like it was obvious that I was sort of after him early on. But he dropped the hint first, if he didn’t, I wouldn’t have cared. There were plenty of men in the sea anyway, but he just so happened to be there at that time.

What’d he do if he read this? If he saw how much I was into the shit that he was, too. Maybe we could have connected with each other in our disdain for desperate people. I probably completely lost interest in him after seeing that I saw a part of me that I hated about myself in his douche-bag behaviors. Arteeeestt, ha! Who the f majors in art anyway?

Because of his parents money.

His Italian American roots, and his fakery in trying to act all Anglo with his natural dirty blond hair. Changing up his last name and such so that it sounded more British American and less Italian. I mean, why would anyone do that? Chicks run after Italian guys. Clearly, he wasn’t comfortable in his own skin.

I had seen him a few more times in the large campus from afar. That itself was a miracle. During those times, he was chasing after a dark haired chick of eastern decent, who also happened to be an art major. He must have mentioned that sometime. Looked like Jenny didn’t make it long.

Not that I really cared, because I had lost all attraction to this tool (who was the embodiment of my inner tool-ness).

It could have ended right there. But then suddenly, Facebook blew up in college, and he befriended me and raved about my gorgeous photo. I took in that compliment with a slight smirk, but I was over this guy. Then he messaged me and said he converted to that prominent religion in the middle east.

Ha ha ha. He began with, “I remember that you didn’t drink…” Looking back, I’m surprised that he even knew that or even remembered it.

It’s hard to talk to people you don’t have an interest in anymore. That random moment of trying to rekindle whatever that wasn’t there anymore, fell through. He probably became embarrassed and deleted himself offline.

That was the last of him. I could search for him again, but I really don’t care.

What I do feel is that him and I are exactly the same for a split second; in our agonies and in our desperation. And what we had was so significant for even less than that fragment of a second.

If I was able to communicate better then, as I maybe can now, our encounters could have been more natural and less forced as I had made it. Maybe if we had even danced without talking, it would have been significantly more meaningful.

Nevertheless, he lives on as an insignificant, significant moment of my life.

Here’s to you, my half-assed, delusional, half sexy, half wise, the love of my insignificant life,
the friend, the foe, the other side of myself.
The red to the blue to the green.
The an to the tho of my NyNy.

Here’s to you, my other quarter.




Don’t you look amazing…
and by amazing, I mean familiar
in your old gym clothes like you’re an ace
that I used to know
maybe it’s you, still
like it’ll always be
in different gym clothes
in a different yet familiar smile
that’s so confident
that focuses on me like you’re game
as if you could tell by sheer look
I love to play



Charles Bukowski — The Vale of Soul-Making

writing has been my fountain of youth my whore, my love, my gamble. The gods have spoiled me. — Charles Bukowski, from “only one Cervantes,” The Last Night of the Earth Poems. (Ecco May 31, 2002

via Charles Bukowski — The Vale of Soul-Making

Popping delirium

If you were rich and enjoying a fancy party while slaves looked at your food with hunger in their eyes from outside the window, would you feel that slavery was unjust or would you feel that the slaves were just damn annoying?

If you were a person enjoying your bacon meal while a flyer was passed with images of frightened pigs in animal slaughter factories, would you feel that animal slaughter factories were unjust or would you feel that the pigs were just damn annoying?

Tree leaves help create paradise

Tree leaves in a forest produce moisture, and that moisture accumulates into air and entices rain. This process is called “transpiration.”

That’s how planting trees can replenish, de-desertify, and bring life into barren lands.


Witch 2 – Demon god visits


~The witch had a wish to become gorgeous, demon god granted her the wish, then the witch finally became happy (

The demon god who lived on the star had been watching the witch on earth much more now that she had become gorgeous. The witch didn’t know that, because she could never tell when demon god cared enough to look after her or not. She’d had the same wish to be beautiful for years, and it had finally come true after a very long time. Probably after one hundred years or something witchy like that. It was sort of annoying that nowadays the sun shone brightly at her during the day and the star shone brightly from the window at night. One night, it got so annoying that she had to peak through with her one eye open to slam the curtains shut. The light still glowed brightly behind the curtains.


Nevertheless, she cared little about these oddities because she was having a great time in general. She got up in the morning, admired herself in the mirror as usual, and powdered her already flawless face. She looked at her wardrobe full of customized sexy dresses and picked the one she was going to wear to town today. Unfortunately, she had to cover herself fully and carry sunglasses with her because the sun was just too bright, again. She stepped outside of her cottage and locked the door. She turned around and suddenly, she slammed into something. She screamed and looked up. She stepped backwards and observed a hovering figure before her. A choir made beautiful surrounding sound. The clouds parted and sun rays danced like strobe lights. A massive rainbow loomed over, and birds chirped and carried flowers in their beaks. They showered petals down at the shining figure below. The witch gawked at the very bottom; the feet had sandals on. Then moving her eyes slowly upwards, she saw strong legs, Greek-like outfit, shiny golden hair, the most chiseled jawline with a slight chin dimple, curvaceous lips, then finally a pair of attentive, gentle, and crystal-like eyes.

“Poof” he said as he widened his eyes and smiled.

“Who… who are you?” She asked apprehensively.

“Just a guy who stalks you… I mean, looks after you every day.”

“Demon go…”

“God. That’s right, god” he whipped out a compact mirror from his pocket then combed his fingers through his hair. He closed the mirror then put it back into his pocket. “You know those bright lights you see every day?” He continued, “It’s me checking you out. I’ve been obsessing over you verrryy much lately, and I want you to come to the star with me and live happily ever after.”

“Wait wait wait” she held her hand up, “This is happening way too fast. I don’t even know you!”

“What!? You can’t ever know me, I’m god!”

“Listen… god. I can’t do it” she crossed her arms together. They remained silent. Demon god put his hands on his hips and tapped his foot while looking away. The witch continued to cross her arms together and looked at the ground. Demon god opened his mouth to say something, then closed it.

“What does it take?” He looked at her and asked.

“Listen… sir…god, I don’t HAVE to come all the way over there. I get that I’m gorgeous; you want me, everyone wants me, even I want me! So let’s get to the point here, if you want to sleep with me, that’s fine! It’s not a big deal. I’m a witch, I’d do it with anyone if they’re nice!”

“It’s not like that!” he said. “The problem is, I can’t… because I don’t exist.”

She squinted her eyes, “You mean… demon gods don’t exist?”

“No, I mean… here, touch me” he said.

She touched him, but her fingers went right through him.

“See what I mean? I can’t do anything here. I’m just a cloud of thoughts… a vision, a reflection; a fragment of someone’s imagination here. That’s why you gotta come to the star with me. Over there, you’ll see that everything else is non-real and that the only thing real is non-reality itself.”

She stood still and contemplated, “So if I go there, I can’t come out into these woods anymore…?” She looked up and around at the beautiful lush green forest with soothing bird sounds.


She turned back and looked at her cute little cottage, “… and I can’t hang out in my kitchen and try new dishes anymore?”


She turned around and squinted her eyes at the ground. She took a deep breath and got the nerves to look him, “Then no” she braved.

“Oh come on! But you get to be hot and beautiful and sit on a star all day!”

“But I’m already hot and beautiful and I don’t want to sit on a star all day! Just go home demon god, please!”

“You know, I granted you this beauty and I could take it away” he crossed his arms together and tilted his head back.

She stood quietly with her eyes looking way, then she looked at him and said, “You wouldn’t.”

“I could” he insisted. He whipped out his magic wand from the side of his belt and hovered it over her.

“You won’t” she said.

“I can” he responded, inching over with a smile. He hoovered his face above hers and looked at her with half closed eyes. Up close, he was shining beautifully like diamonds. She leaned in more, and their lips lingered close to each other’s. She then remembered and pulled back.

“Why’d… you do that?” He asked bewildered.

“Because I didn’t know what that would entail”

“It wouldn’t entail anything!” He shouted, “It was just going to be a smooch. Geez, you’re so difficult.”

She covered her ears with her hands because his shouting was so screechy. “You know what, I don’t want to worship you anymore” she defied.

Demon god’s eyes grew big and it blazed with fire as his face turned red, “That’s it! I’m turning you ugly again.” He raised his wand high up.

She closed her eyes shut and covered her ears as she crouched down. He recited some chant and shook the wand at her.


After a little bit, she slowly stood up and looked at her arms. She ran to the window of her cottage and looked at her reflection more closely. It hadn’t changed a bit.


The demon god cleared his throat and recited something slightly more different and shook the magic wand at her again. Nothing happened. In a state of humiliation and disappointment, he tried again. Nothing.

The witch laughed briefly then stopped. It wasn’t that funny.

“Now can you leave me alone?” She asked him.

The demon god put the wand back into his belt on the side. He raised his nose high up in air and looked at her.

“I will be back” he said sternly. He then took a few steps backwards. He whipped out a cape with one arm, covered it around him, then disappeared.

The witch finally gave a huge sigh of relief. She dusted off her outfit, then continued with her day.



This old house

There’s no one out here, yet
there’s flowers that bloom and valleys that roll
and rivers that flow into the never-ending seas
we can go there
just you and I
the empty halls echo sounds of past long gone
and the light dances with the dust of feelings unsettled
between you and I
you make my heart rise like lava
you swarm through my thoughts like a billion honeybees
clasping within my arms of what was so long lost
to appear before my eyes; your sacred look
into my life
like bees that spear their way into the heart of a comb
penetrating my soul
hold me today
and tomorrow
let’s embrace in this beauty
as the walls crumble


Going on the same path, headed different directions

Sometimes the feel of hurt tastes so sweet
and it can be tasted by the tip of the tongue
as if it was just yesterday
when I found all reason in you;
a low point, I know,
to believe that that would do
but it felt safe
it felt like home
amid the world of shifting sand; in which I live in
shifting and shifting and shifting
I can’t find my way out
thought I found it;
home, you
and now I’m back to shifting and shifting and shifting