writen-by-botero

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All the toys are mine

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If I never loved you,

My mind would be so free.

Free of all these memories,

That buzz around like bees.

If I never loved you,

I wouldn't feel this pain.

I wouldn't have these dreams.

I might just be sane.

If I never loved you,

My heart would be untouched.

I'd've never felt the love,

But I'd've never been so crushed.

If I never loved you,

You'd never have loved me.

It always felt so real,

But later I could see.

That you just needed someone,

And anyone would do.

I thought I was so special,

But none of that was true.

If I never loved you,

If you'd've let me be,

I wouldn't have spent all these years,

Trying to love me.

-Julz Epp

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Music is medicine

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Some beautiful flowers on my morning walk.

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One of my favorite pictures of Christy Turlington.

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You are loved

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It's my 9 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

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The jet set wears new clothes

Blue skies clear of smoke Cremation with bodies, not corpses Clearing houses for villas and resorts The ocean view is irresistible

I flip through Vogue where dreams of youth go to die keep flipping and soon I see the devils in the garden of time

a bunny, a cardi, a mj in blue a jlo, a gigi, a pepsi drinker, and a cohen or two Did I mention an X, nas a rating, but sex in the city was there too models and food galore super beauties from a time de jour a thor, a grande, and universal defenders another jenner, plenty of hipsters and hip hop-ers dribblers and spiral catchers racket queens and and kings of comedy and did I mention scandal was there too all dressed in designs that can feed many of you

A block away, I shared a smoke with a patriot, a vet that has gone broke a tin can and a joke the five in my pocket, just won't be enough, not even for Camels but it'd get him a coffee and doughnut or two

The sirens they ring, delivering the kings while other head to 100 Centre with kids in the back, tied like cattle for stealing bread for the bodega and bodegas get held up due to lack of cops in neighborhoods that crumble until the chosen choose to move in.

I finished flipping fragrance on my finger tips I wash my hands but I can't wash away the rage I feel for the injustice in the world while my taxes contribute to the kill and my movie ticket funds the devils that walk in the garden of time.

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Brothers in heartbreak

A poem of love betrayed

I understand the pain Like your soul concentrated traveling through your veins.

But brother, let me explain I too loved her adored it was all in vain.

Her loss is ours to gain come with me traverse and drink ourselves insane.

Photo by Kylo on Unsplash

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Paper Lies (a micro-story)

She always wondered what it would feel like to fly. Ever since she was a child she dreamt of flying. She didn’t dream of flying like a bird or Pterosaurs like other kids. She didn’t dream of it for the thrill. She dreamt of elevating her body and seeing the world from above. When she dreamt of danger, she would escape with flight, extending her arms slowly and rising to safety. Therefore, she never had nightmares. When her dreams became too intense, she would simply fly away from the danger.

-This will be my last flight — she whispered to herself

-My most important one, the city looks so nice from here. It really is a view, maybe a five-thousand-dollar view? The night is so clear. Beautiful for this time of year.

I wonder if I can reach the Empires State building from here? Wow that would be so cool.

She took a deep drag from her cigarette, held it a few seconds and exhaled. The night was clear; indeed, the night fog was just beginning to become visible. It made the city seem surreal when viewed from such heights. The bridge itself was cold. It was especially cold for her as she was sitting high above it all, on the top of the bridge. She wondered how she was able to get all the way to the top without being notices but indeed no one did. Not the drivers of the cars that drove by her as she made her way through the service ladders; not the coastguard boats that hovered under the bridge; not the residents of their apartments on Riverside Drive who would occasionally look out the windows of their apartments to view the bridge. She had been sitting up there here for a good long while. She wondered how long she would be able to remain up here without being noticed. It was so peaceful she thought — you barely hear the traffic.

-No people, no screaming, just the wind and the sound of the Hudson underneath me.

She stood up, started dancing on the railing. All she saw was the New York’s skyline, even with her eyes closed. She kept hearing Billy Joel’s New York State of Mind in her head. She kept dancing, spinning, and singing.

She opened her eyes and saw some bright lights underneath her.

The lights were from emergency vehicles that had been assembling underneath her. The lights highlighted the blonde streaks in her hair. She could clearly see her black denim jeans and her vintage Pink Floyd t-shirt.

-Please stand still -said a voice from below. She wondered who they were talking about.

-Please stand still; we are coming to help you. She thought they must be using speakers or a bullhorn for her to hear them so clearly from so high up.

She closed her eyes again,

All she heard once again was Billy Joel. All she saw was the New York lights. Suddenly she stopped, opened her eyes, and looked down.

-There must be an accident below me — she thought. Not for one second did it cross her mind that all those lights from the emergency vehicles were because of her. Suddenly her face lost all expression as she stared into the night. She remembered her mom, her two sisters, Francisco, and Father Longe.

-Mom, I will see you again — she whispered

-Ma, help me Ma — she whispered; but somewhat louder.

-Oh Maria, oh Angelina, how I love you. I am so sorry I couldn’t help — she spoke as a tear slowly made its way down her cheek.

She extended her arms and took her final flight.

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Classic Bond.

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Perfect

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So true. Here is to more days of being both.

Nikita Gill, Why I am Magic Wild Embers: Poems of Rebellion, Fire and Beauty

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Wounded Soul

I moan all day I moan all night Just like cats after a fight

My claws are strong My claws run deep They tend to hurt most in my sleep

I cut for pain I cut for pleasure The blood that drips relieves the pressure

Today I weep Today I cry For all my fears that have to die

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Mental health poem.

Support local mental health initiatives.

woundedwarriorproject.org

SAMHSA’s National Helpline is a free, confidential, 24/7, 365-day-a-year treatment referral and information service (in English and Spanish) for individuals and families facing mental and/or substance use disorders. 1-800-662-HELP (4357)

Thanks for reading.

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