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Sketch by Mia C. Valadez, 17 year-old daughter of the author |
A Triangle of Poems
By Juan Carlos Valadez
String
Must we always
sacrifice ourselves
for the sake of love?
The romantic love
that we think we deserve.
Love that bleeds:
thick blood that drips
then strangles a lover
till breathing transforms
a reality to a dream,
a far away dream
that dies with human exposure.
Love that runs
to an empty space
where doubt is the norm.
Love that
paces wildly searching
for a place to rest, a
spot where pain is
nonexistent.
Always an— unrealistic—
expectation.
The Master
Even in the dark
The disease of drug addiction
Has the power to get my attention.
Tonight the disease is dressed in black;
It hides in the shell of a beautiful woman.
She walks fast, nervous, alone with an empty destiny.
Surviving on a wage of desperation,
It is never enough to live on—that is all she has.
A distant mother—a committed slave to this disease.
Surviving in a lost world, waiting for
Death; roaming around with a broken purpose,
Hoping, to collect five dollars for a hit.
Sneaking around, running from the disease.
Seeking a way to feed her ruptured, selfish soul…
Speaking to a drug induced brain—her faithful companion.
Lurking to share, inflict her pain on another user;
Licking her dry, scabbed, burned lips;
Lamenting that her daughters—a kiss—tasted her shame.
Dungeon
Zombies, witches, and skeletons
Melting in a dark room.
Biting their long, filthy nails
Filled with black dirt
From living around other creatures.
Scratching, pulling,
The bits of hair they have left on their heads—
Heads that have no sense.
Licking their waterless, colorless,
Shapeless lips. Useless lips
Only eat remains—not food.
Twitching, twisting,
Cramped together on this love couch,
Hiding, where no human will find them.
Leaning on each other, sharing
A rusty blanket of cocaine—
Bleeding from their hearts.