There are texts and stories
etched in and beneath
the skin we see,
that makes certainty
an arrogance beyond belief,
while same said suffering
can make monstrosities;

but you don’t have to
like or love the beast
to see with empathy
the place from which
their tragic tale came.

across from me,  
a god so i thought he seemed.
ink and paper in front of my eyes,
i sketched him out.
and too my surprise
something so frigtening
on the white sheet.
I can’t run now
he’s watching me.

It's the quietest time of night
Where the moon has peaked
All is hushed
And you're supposed to be asleep

But your mind plays games
Making noise that keep you awake
Mocking your restlessness and fears
Little monsters play tug-of-war
And swing from moonlit chandeliers

I Find comfort in the dark
A pitch black tranquility
But little monsters search for a thought
To keep me awake unwillingly

Heart steadies like the sea
Holding on to the evanescent dreams
Waiting for the pounce of little feet
Jumping on on you like a trampoline

They've finally tuckered themselves out
From running about
They curl up beside me
And count their sheep
Beside little monsters
I sleep

Persephone runs amok, her hair caught on tendrils of wind,
eyes lucid as emeralds; aware, alive.
Hope is sketched on her face as if drawn by whoever paints the sunset,
pulsating with the reflection of neon cities, rolling countryside,
the adrenaline-pumping moment before a rollercoaster’s descent.
She is high on happiness, running across her plane of existence
with only her converse sneakers and extraordinary ambitions.

Persephone knows she owes her unbridled youthfulness to Demeter.
Demeter, who is stern but unconditionally loving,
selfless, for when she hears her daughter’s plea for food she stops
her spoon midway through a bite.
When Persephone struggles with the perpetual torture of arithmetics,
Demeter’s sheer intelligence is astonishing, the iridescent reflection of
Persephone’s aspirations, for a problem to Demeter is merely
a hidden solution, a failure only a victory in waiting.

If only Demeter knew how her words are of the highest value,
her pleased smile the only affirmation to a job well done.
Her love cradled in the nook of Persephone memories,
every moment she is infinitely grateful to co-exist,
grateful for the Universe to award her the simple pleasure
of loving her parent with purity and stripped of conditions.

As Persephone runs, she glances back for a mere second,
in her smile is the mirror of her naivety,
she still believes that her Gods will save her from being a slave to
the inevitable corruption on Earth and Olympus,
for she is sure her untarnishable love for Demeter is her protector.

Yet, you know how the story goes.
In an instant, Persephone is falling into the Underworld, on the back of a beautiful monster into inescapable darkness.
But even then, she holds on to Demeter in thought and in prayer.
After adulthood, marriage, queenship, a childhood gone in a flash,
after her hands become worn with calluses, her face a series of rivers,
her mind expansive, her goals reached, Persephone knows she owes her unbridled youthfulness to the first person she ever loved.

I love you Dad, Happy Father’s Day.

My monster has...

A body like rusted steel
He has eyes like poisonous venom,
freezing you in fear.

He has a nose like he's waiting to charge
and the smoke coming out is very large.

He has a mouth like a grin
And it seems way too grim
as he waits for his chance to swallow you up.

He has arms as strong as your fear
and he won't play along
when you try to talk him out of his lunch which is you.  

He is as friendly as a snake
that lives from being vile
and he is as clever as the demons
in your mind.

He's as loud as the blasting thunder
that you hope is mostly outside.
He's as smelly as the sewer
that lives under your home.

and who knows,
that's maybe where he lives.
He's as frightening as the fear
he can see in your eyes.

My monsters name is Your Nightmare.

When monsters are gnawing
At your heart
It is so easy to surrender
Trust me I've lost that fight
Many times and
Regretted it every time

But it only takes one minute
Of courage
To stand up and fight
Trust me it can be draining
But you'll thank yourself
Later