The Valley Of Suicide (Under Cyanide Skies)

Note: This poem reflects on my dark past

This sadness is going to kill me.
I don't know what I want,
and I don't know what to do anymore...

I am walking towards the valley of suicide
picking razorblade flowers
under cyanide skies.

Should I drown myself in the lake of eternal death?
Maybe.
Or maybe I should keep walking
and meet my self inflicted demise around my neck from the tree that bears forbidden fruit and forbidden dreams.

Bullets have never tasted as sweet as these.

I choose to rest here in the valley of suicide.
With razorblade flowers on my grave
under cyanide skies.

Aqui

Aquí...
Aquí estaré esperandote
Toda mi vida yo te esperare
No podré partir lejos de aquí.

Aquí fue el lugar donde te conocí
Aquí fue el lugar donde te bese por primera vez,
Aquí, aquí..

Aquí,
Aquí estaré esperandote
Toda mi vida yo te esperare
No podré partir lejos de aquí

Aquí fue el lugar donde discutimos
Aquí fue el lugar donde te dije que no me buscaras
Aquí, aquí...

Aquí fue el lugar donde yo cometi
el peor error de mi vida de dejarte ir
Aquí, aquí, aquí...

Aquí
aquí estaré esperando te
Toda mi vida yo te esperare
No podré partir lejos de aquí.

Ya te olvidaste de mi,
Ya nunca jamas vendras aquí
Regresa conmigo aquí...

Aquí
Aquí yo estaré esperando te
Toda mi vida yo te esperare
No podré partir lejos de aquí

Aquí....

The Forbidden Apple of Eden (God's perspective)

You stare at the tree in front of you and your eyes lead you to a shiny red apple.
Perfect shape
Perfect size
Perfect color
Perfect shine
It is the most delicious apple you've seen in your entire life.
But wait....
You cant touch it!
Well why the fuck not?
This apple has forbidden knowledge that no one should know.
Its a very tasty apple...
Its the tastiest apple you will find in this whole fucking garden!
You are welcome to eat the others... They are pretty tasty too...
Just don't eat the fruit from that tree! I don't give a shit who tells you that its OK.
Trust me!
You will pay if you take a bite out of that apple.
You will suffer!
Trust me! I'm not being a selfish asshole that leaves the best for me.
I'm just protecting you.
Really.

[Un] True Love

There is no such thing as true love.
True love is only a fairytale.
This fairytale was a fallacy concocted to keep dreamy little girls giddy and excited only so they could come to the cruel reality that the love they read about in books was nowhere near existence in real life. 
Yes, when they are grown up of course...

Yes. A man may give you roses,
Give you chocolates,
Tell you that you're everything to him...
But at what price?
Laying in bed naked while being stripped not only of your clothes and your hymen but also of your dignity and pride?
And the reward you get is a note saying in other words that he had a great time doing you, but he doesn't love you and desires not to ever see you again. A note... If you're lucky.
Or you only find that empty spot next to you where he left you desolate and in great despair and heartbreak.
True love is bullshit!
There is no such thing as a knight in shining armor,
There is no such thing as a damsel in distress,
Roses, chocolates, love letters, poems, teddy bears and all that other shit...
Either he wants you forever,
Or he wants you for a few hours.
Its so hard to read them..
Most of the time they just want to play overnight.
Such scumbags they are...
We want love and commitment,
But they just want sex.
Nothing else.
The tale of true love is just a tale.
Its good for books,
Not for real life...

I Hate Being In Love With You

I hate being in love with you.
I hate the feelings I get every time you cross my mind.
I hate the way my reality spits at my face and says
"Give it up bitch, its a long shot!"
I hate the fact that there are other girls that have won your heart.
I hate the way my heart skips beats whenever I hear your voice
I hate how I dream about you every night and when I wake up you ignore me and don't remember that I exist.
I hate the fact that I've sobbed over you in my bed, not wanting to get up and give myself a chance to embrace every new day.
If I love you, why do I hate being in love with you?
Shouldn't I be happy and not feel my heart aching?
Jesus Christ! Why?
I love you so much,
But I cant keep breaking my own heart loving you when I know full well that I will never be with you.
I just fucking hate that!
But still, I cant stop loving you.
Yet, you don't deserve my poems,
You don't deserve my tears.
You don't deserve my feelings
Or my innate fears.
You don't deserve my heart
Or my devotion.
I'm giving myself away to you when you don't deserve it.
I should be investing in someone who truly loves me and truly cares about me.
That person that truly deserves it.
I hate the fact that I love you.
But why can't I stop loving you?

What Have I Done?

What have I done?
How did I hurt you?
Though I've never said
"I love you"

Every time I say those words
They cannot be lies.
I swear it in my heart
That its how I feel for you.

I love you
Though I've never said those words
Maybe its my pride,
Maybe its my ego
Maybe its my fear
Fear of losing you.

I try to show it in every way
With every little detail
But I guess its not enough.
Maybe I should be more detailed.

What have I done?
How did I hurt you?
Though I've never said
"I love you"
My love is true
And its just for you.

Is It Right?

I love you,
But I don't know if I'm doing the right thing.
You are my friend,
It just doesn't feel right.
But it doesn't feel wrong...
If you become my lover,
I hope it lasts forever.
And if it doesn't?
Not only will I lose a lover,
but I will also lose a friend.
So I ask myself...
Is it right?
Is it right for me to love you?
Or is it a sin?
Is it worth the risk?
But I just cant stop loving you. 

I Hate Being A Poet

I hate being a poet!
I hate how I use words
and not actions to express my feelings.
I hate being a poet!
I hate it when I am speaking,
and without noticing,
I rhyme.
I hate being a poet!
I hate it when my conversations have a certain rhythm
and try as I might,
I keep up with the beat.
I hate being a poet!
I hate that a certain line pops up in my head
and the sudden urge to write it down on paper
bothers me until it's done.
I hate being a poet!
I hate this fucking bursitis
That I get at night
After writing
A goddamn poem.

I- Hate- Being- A poet!