We are all poets.
We create our worlds.
Mine is a chaotic painting of aggression, sorrow,
Tinged with colors of depression, suicidal tendencies
and uncontrolled anger,
Flavored by ounces of alcoholic beverages and
My life is framed inside the boundaries of frustration
Both struggling to take more of the canvass.
I draw inspiration from everyday existence.
They mold me, empower me and sometimes destroy
the last bit of sanity I have.
Still, I made these pieces to remind me of how I
lived my reality,
To remind me…
Of how human I am,
Of the degree of my neuroticism,
Of how maladaptive I became,
And how I tried to escape myself…
No matter how cruel or sadistic even,
No matter how romantic or fancy,
No matter how melancholic or just plain stoic my
These are my verses,
The transcription of my so-called being.
And I bring them forth
To cherish – once my last days are already counting,
To serve as remembrance of a past I loved and
hated at the same time.
These are my neuroses
And this is how I deal with them.