Here is a PDF link to a poetry collection I’ve been working on for a few weeks. It is about love and loss and searching and finding the self. I’m excited that it is actually done. Enjoy: Searching Poems


My Little Voice

Sometimes, when I open my mouth,
My voice surprises me.
I don’t mean this in a poetic sense,
Though it would be nice;
It would be romantic.

It is like, well,
I usually speak so low that
I don’t hear myself,
I only hear what I think I’ve said,

And when I force myself to
Speak up, it startles me:
My voice becomes louder than I meant,
The intonation all wrong,
It’s implication out of my control.

Even so, perhaps I should be loud.
Let the fingerprint of my voice
Smudge all the glass doors
Built by me without my permission because

When I am quiet too long
I forget what is mine and
What is yours.
I forget my strength and
Only see yours.

But when I am caffeinated drunk,
I surprise myself,
Recognize my voice,
Hear the connotations I make,
And all I want are my fingerprints all over the place.

I become the dominatrix
Of my life.
The submissive becomes my choice
And I leave my marks on those I choose;
The little voice becomes a tool
I whisper in the ears I admire because

I hear my voice; I hear myself.

¡¿Dos?! ¡Ay Dios!

I tried to write a poem in Spanish and realized how interesting it becomes when I put it through Google translate. One poem becomes two! lol. Take a look.


You see,

Sometimes I think it’s better
Be unknown. Those who
They look and leave, why,
Do you really want to know
I sometimes want to shock
To hide in pain?

Look. Think wisely.

When I am depressed,
And when I can not
I go inside myself
And obsessed in my lungs
In my intestines and my stomach
Until the god in me forgives me.


I am two: she cries
And the dark.
I do not know how to put them together
And you can not tell me anything.
Because the two are me.
The two are me.

You hear me
The two are me.

But, think about it. Right now.
Do not wait until it’s late!
Unknown people look at each other and leave.
Lovers look and stand

We live a life of dying,
But although we are dying
Eat the anxiety that causes you.
Dream the sounds,
The known letters
Of my name
Until we shine
And we shine more.

But, also, think about it:
I can love you
Two times more:
In the dark and
In the light.
I’m going to love you both.
I promise.


You see,

Aveces pienso que es mejor
Ser desconocidos. Los que
Se miran y se van, por que,
¿De verdad quieres saber
Que aveces quiero chocar
Para esconderme en dolor?

Look. Piénsalo bien.

Cuando estoy deprimido,
Y cuando no puedo
Voy dentro de yo mismo
Y obseso en mis pulmones
En mis intestinos y mi estómago
Hasta que el dios en mi me perdona.


Soy dos: la clama
Y el oscuro.
No se como juntarlos
Y no me puedes decir nada.
Porque los dos son yo.
Los dos son yo.

You hear me?
Los dos son yo.

Pero, piénsalo. Ahorita.
No esperas hasta que es tarde!
Desconocidos se miran y se van.
Amantes miran y se ‘stan

Vivimos una vida de morir,
Pero aunque estamos muriendo
Come la ansiedad que te causa.
Soña los sonidos,
Las letras conocidas
De mi nombre
Hasta que brillamos
Y brillamos mas.

Pero, también, think about it:
Te puedo amar
Dos veces mas:
En el oscuro y
En el luz.
Te voy amar en los dos.
Te prometo.


My Only Sense

I want to go back to the ocean
And hear the sound of waves
That fill me to the brim
And leave no room for me.

The rocky shore is black with shells
That stab my feet when I walk over them.
The wind is cold and erects my nipples and
Ripples my skin and cripples my movement.


I stepped in gingerly that first time,
And damn it was cold, but I was determined to go in.
I waded in slowly and the water crept up
My skinny calfs,
My bony knees.
Up my thighs,
Further and further and further
Until my sex was submerged, shrunk, taking my breath.
I had to slow down.
Oh, but that sound.
Tickling my ears and kissing my neck.
Lapping my skin, accepting me slowly.
I walked in and in and in.

The hardest part was getting in past my stomach.
Like my primal self wouldn’t let me.
It was telling me, Turn back! It isn’t safe!
Turn back you stupid fuck! You’re cold!
But I pushed on like stupid fowl flying
Through a shooting range.
I pushed on. No. Edit.
I didn’t just push, I said,
Fuck you body! Fuck you to hell!
And I jumped in. And damn.
That feeling.
That cold, that piercing kiss from the ocean
Obliterated all else.
Made me know that I was there,
In that ocean, at that time, in that moment.
I knew I was there.

And so I swam out.
Held my breath and went under,
Letting my hair get all wet,
And when I surfaced, I was breathing hard like I’d swam a mile, but
I went under again and again and again
It was cold but now so was I,
And before I knew it I didn’t have to swim anymore.
I just floated and the ocean took over. It was taking me out
farther and farther and farther from the shore,
Like it wanted me, like it tasted my
Body and couldn’t have enough of me.
I almost drowned that day.
I tried swimming back but got tired and choked on the water.
It burned the cuts in my mouth and made me gag.
It was like a moment I’d seen but told myself
Could ever happen to me.
Then I remembered what I was taught
And let myself go limp until the ocean was tired. Until it had had enough of me and let me go.
I swam parallel and back to shore.


I am told beaches in the south are not cold.
That the water is warm and doesn’t
Shock you when you wade in.
I am told the sand is fine, like smooth powder
And there aren’t sharp shells that get your feet.
I have yet to see this.
I do not know what it means.

When I think of the ocean, I think of the cold water,
My breath sharp and my body stiff.
I think of the saltiness dripping from my hair
Down my cheek and to my mouth.
I think about the shock and the pull.
It is my only sense.
It is the ocean.

Your Presence, My Atmosphere

I saw you on the subway.
You were in the other car,
Two panes of glass and air
Separated us.

I knocked but you didn’t
Look up. I’m hurt that you
didn’t see me. I’m embarrassed
That I knocked.

You were texting your new boyfriend,
The presence of me not
Entering your atmosphere
As yours does mine.
Yours ahead and gone,
Leaving us where we stopped.

I imagine we will meet again;
That somehow you’ll convince me
To try again, but I see how
Absurd that is.

I look down at my phone and
Swipe through the homescreen.
I swip again wondering
If I’m convincing anyone.

I open photos and find us,
The one I haven’t deleted.
I see that I’m not
Convincing anyone.

JeJe Is Dead

I wanted to let you know that JeJe died. He died February 27th. 

Remember? He was in the room, lying at the foot of the couch, when we broke up. The day was sunny and calm. You were so placid. So collected, as if you wanted to protect me by thinking clearly. I commented to you, “I wonder how many break ups he’s seen.” JeJe was old.

The rest of the summer, whenever I’d sit in the sitting room, I’d lay down where you sat and imagine you hadn’t left. For a few days your smell linger and I’d inhale deeply. But, of course, your smell faded, but the memory of you didn’t. 

When I’d walk through the kitchen, past the sitting room, I’d think of you. I’d remember the sad meal I made us right before we broke up. Pizza and salad. Wasn’t that an awful meal? You read the newspaper and I watched you. You made some small comments about it. It’s like we sensed what was coming but we held on as long as we could.

And whenever I’d walk outside to my car, I’d remember how you leaned me against the window and kissed me late at night and I had wondered if anyone could see us, if they were uncomfortable with us gay boys, but I kissed you back harder. 

And whenever I’d walk JeJe, I’d remember you were with me the first time I took him out. How resistant he was to walking. I suspect it was because he was old and his body needed coaxing to warm up. I remember how he just stood in one spot and how he didn’t want to move and how insecure I was about not being able to walk him properly.

Remember when we walked him that first time and how he stood at the corner of the sidewalk. Just stood there. You were so patient and just observed the paint on the house in front of us. Then suddenly, without you noticing, JeJe decided to start and I followed to take advantage of his vigor but I left you talking to yourself. You turned around and saw that I was gone. I hate that I left you talking to yourself. I hate that image of you looking over, talking to someone who wasn’t there. 

Anyway, JeJe’s dead. I wrote back his owner and told her that he was a sweet dog. That the time I spent with him last summer was so special to me. And it was, he was the the one who saw us end, and he’s gone now.

Forgotten Poems

Have you ever found something you’ve written but have no recollection of writing it? Did I actually write this, you ask yourself. Did I actually write this poem filled with unrestrained desire, propriety thrown out the window?

I found a poem I wrote this past March and it is like another being wrote it. I journaled about the entry and apparently I wrote it after watching a movie that disturbed me, which I loved but it made me enter the deep psychology of my being and the result, what came out of me, was this animalistic core filled with sexual imagery, carnal desire, and blasphemous horrors. How could I forget it? My brain and body physically processed the words and I wrote them down but they were lost deep in my notes, in the internet cloud that just swallows everything.

Maybe that is why I love art. In a sly way, it maneuvers past our unconscious walls and latches on to parts of us we forget about. It insists we do not forget. It allows us to explore these parts with no judgment, just acknowledging their existence as they are.

Poem below:

I am no animal,
One who runs and hunts
Falls with their pray in
Carnal bliss.

I am not one who sees
And takes, who craves
And screams an exultant cry.

I am a prince,
A hallowed being.
I am a created child
And flesh will not prevail
Against me.

I am one.
I but exist as one.

I want
I crave to have you in my mouth
To lick you and milk you.

Get thee behind me.
Get thee far behind.
Get thee in front of me.
Get thee beneath me.

You’ve infected my tongue
And spread in my veins,
Across my cheeks and temple.
My eyes bulge
And ears throb.
The shiver down my torso.
The tightness of my jeans.

Our father who art in heaven
Hallowed be thy name.
Hallowed be thy taste.
Hallowed be thy smell.

I am no fiend.
I do not want to hurt;
I want to tear apart.

Fill me with your blood.
Fill my mouth with your life
Let me bathe in the existence of you
And drink your eternity.