Rarely do the powder blues blend with pink cotton
But winter nights give light to whatever I could imagine heaven would look like
My depleting eyes give way to artist’s tool with the swaying of fluffed anomalies
How beautiful a sight, even if it were a last to see tonight.
My ex was supposed to be the future mother of my child.
My parents weren’t supposed to be divorced and taking legal action so slow.
Dad wasn’t supposed to kick me out of the house.
I wasn’t supposed to be around to see this far into my life play out.
I fell in love too many times to count
I’ve written stories up to a million pages with the same events going down
I’ve broken my own heart with all the memories of you now to know better for the future that’ll happen again somehow
I don’t have a solid foundation with my family life
I take familial advice from friends that I made out of town
I talk to them on the daily, and whenever I’m in doubt
They clear my head and paint all of the pictures in perspective to keep me from south
I’ve done a lot in my 25, but am still lost in myself
That’s the main reason why I’m alone this house
Accomplished a laundry list, but not able to plan for the life beyond high school
He said it’s because we’re built different and wired to live life full
She said things will happen for the better and happen quick
I don’t know where I’m going with this
But the past couple of months have killed me deep down
to the point that I can’t say I know my own face in a crowd
I’ve continuously fell and built myself up with little help
My friends are the only love I get when the world is burning down.
Clouds rolling off the mountaintops seem to signify a new masterpiece that’s just been cropped, cut and connected from subtle grays to sunrises that leave a pure heart speechless when the lines cuts out and ends.
Summer friends, I wish them well in their next life (except for a few, that I know too well).
I’m in favor of Palestine for the same reason I’m not satisfied with the stares of being brown as I move across the state that is yours and mine.
I speak too black for the white-washed one, but I embrace the weird that are far too young to know and read what the world has just become in a heartless manner like the budget’s cut.
Teach to reach the few that seek an inner peak at what lays beneath the spoken truths of false whispered words who willow away with a wishing swerve to the left and right.
I can’t ever picture my heart ever sitting right.
I can’t ever picture the world just spinning right.
Like I can’t picture a sock as the leading might of what’s just and right out of concern that the frat will drink everything in sight and fundraiser to end the underage.
I have a ton of views to get off my mind, and in due time I guess I’ll see it clear like the girls that wake up with their makeup smeared and no one in the room believes in their truest fears of him.
I’ve met a great deal of him, but don’t speak his name nor shake the hand of the soiled shame. To false greek it’s just all the same. An expected consequence to tradition’s fame.
Maybe my life and views aren’t one in the same. I’m full of contradictions and love in the same. But like I’ve written over and over and spoken out to many, I’m just broken and sober with the words that feel and a personality to steal the air out of the room.
Weird and cocky, honest and daring, loving and blind for my own good; I’m a loser with a degree and smooth with a handful of words. But placed right, and I’ll be a loser who’s firm
in belief, love, truth, honesty, and argument.
I love all that stuck by me and all that have left, and thank someone that’s looking out for my want to the best
version of me
with or without a team, I truly believe in the faith the troubling few have left in me.
Love,
The Loser with The Pen
When the sun cuts through the band of clouds as they surround and belt the mountains, I see true beauty in patience.
As I speed beyond 83, the skies pause for masterpiece-like tracings ahead of my front view.
I could only see a world similar to Jurassic with the birds overhead and the fog settling in.
I left the clouds of doubt behind me as I drove closer and closer to my “in the meantime” place of business.
With beauty on my mind, I thought and thought about the mistakes that I’ve caught in my checkered timeline of a past.
Love too few
Love too quick
Love in trust
Love in blindness
I could never take a vow to change my heart’s loving ways, but I could hope that she would mold it in her image.
Angelic and soft-spoken, outgoing and filled with shyness.
Who is she?
And why does she remind me of poetic tragics?
I doubt I’ll ever truly know, but the butterflies feelings keep me stilted on golden toes.
When the sun cuts through the band of clouds as they surround and belt the mountains, I see true beauty in patience.
As I speed beyond 83, the skies pause for masterpiece-like tracings ahead of my front view.
I could only see a world similar to Jurassic with the birds overhead and the fog settling in.
I left the clouds of doubt behind me as I drove closer and closer to my “in the meantime” place of business.
With beauty on my mind, I thought and thought about the mistakes that I’ve caught in my checkered timeline of a past.
Love too few
Love too quick
Love in trust
Love in blindness
I could never take a vow to change my heart’s loving ways, but I could hope that she would mold it in her image.
Angelic and soft-spoken, outgoing and filled with shyness.
Who is she?
And why does she remind me of poetic tragics?
I doubt I’ll ever truly know, but the butterflies feelings keep me stilted on golden toes.
i can’t shake the feeling
i’m unable to let go of experiences
i replay all of the negative moments to feel how i felt in the moment
so with words to a page i share every tear shed,
every time we sat on the floor and talked until we both began to cry,
every time you began to tear up and didn’t want to say why,
every time i talked you up to build you up because you were heartbroken over the 7 years,
every time you helped people and got no recognition,
every time you were tired of the constant bombardment of worry,
every tear you fought back because you don’t feel emotion,
every moment you felt scared because you didn’t know what was going to happen,
every time you thought i was let down,
every time i couldn’t open the door,
every time you shared a piece of your life with me and it led you to cry,
every time i shared my waves and lost it in front of your eyes,
every time you were embarrassed by who i was,
every time you kept what was mine from moving forward,
every time you felt that you couldn’t lift the weight of the world on your shoulders;
i was there, for myself and for your tears.
no one in particular because there was only me as the constant, but the tears streaming came from a new set of eyes.
these eyes that i protected, saved, helped, admired, and some that i’ve loved.
i did what i ultimately promised, and i’ve taken your sorrows and worries to the point that i can barely hold my own.
a poetic martyr, for the moments needed the most, I was there.
Every heart that I’ve come to hold has left better than my own; the true definition of love.
¿Qué quiero?
Bien,
Quiero a alguien que me desafíe.
Quiero a alguien que pueda lidiar con mi mierda.
Quiero a alguien que pueda reírse de cualquier situación, y darle la vuelta para que puedan ser serias cuando el momento lo requiera.
Quiero a alguien inteligente; me hace trabajar para una conversación.
Quiero que alguien se cierre, así que cuando la confianza está allí, la confianza es real.
Quiero a alguien que sepa lo que quiere hacer con su vida, pero no sabe que saben lo que quieren con su vida.
En general, mi corazón está con alguien tan complicado, tan inteligente, tan inteligente y tan descortés como yo.
I’m like a bird with a clipped wing trying to fly. No cage, but perched on a dresser that the owners left me on. They say jump, and I see the floor. They saw fly, and I know that I could never go that high. I’m a slip away from falling with style, and I’ll be damned if they say the hurt will only last a little while.
I’m the stepchild in my own home. Walk past the frames and what you see are pictures of somebody else’s kids, and not me. I looked under the Christmas tree and couldn’t find my brother, sister, or me; but only found the gifts of others names that don’t fall in line with last name, first letter V.
Work isn’t any better. I’m the red-headed orphan grouped with the “other” club. I’m a factory new wrench left out on the lawn laying next to a screwdriver, hammer, and a broken saw. I’m a part of the “No Child Left Behind” motto in my line of work. They say it’s mandatory, but none of their words mean a thing in our line of work.
I replaced my Love with a possibility. Spent time, care, and commitment to a heart that isn’t healed and left with coincidences. No blame to her because I know how scary it is to start anew when you try to use duct tape to pick up the pieces after what your hearts been through. I’m sorry. That was my mistake. I don’t expect to see it again because that ship has sailed and I’m holding on to a dream, so don’t anyone knock on my door to make me wake.
I leave myself from time to time. Leave my soul in my room and go on thinking the world will turn out fine. I don’t stress about what I can’t control, but sit up at night telling the moon stories that could never properly be retold. I talk about my heartaches and why I tend to cry at night while thinking how in a snap that past judgments could’ve changed my whole situation.
I’m like a bird with its wings clipped, and told everyday to jump and fly away. I’m truly just a lost soul trying to turn the pages and get my life going the right way.
Coming into 2017, I wanted to die. I know the phrase gets overly used because people are bored, I get it and I’ve said it too (most of the time while I was working/volunteering); but coming into this year, I wanted to cease to exist and check out. I learned that I suffer from a severe case of a mental health issue, and I didn’t know what to do. Seriously, what do you do when you lay in bed and feel like you’re chained there and every failed attempt to do right or spark a bit of joy in your life flashes across the ceiling like a moving scrapbook? I digress. Anyway, my life wasn’t bad at that point. Yes, there were bumps in the road, but there are bumps in the road for everybody. I finally broke. I lost friends from the previous year, I lost relationships, I lost my family, and they piled up. One after another, they piled up until I couldn’t brush them off anymore. So, I did what I told my residents I’d do for them when they were in trouble. I signed up for counseling, and didn’t show up. It took a resident having a breakdown for me to go with her and sign up myself to prove that I was a man of my word, like my dad raised me to.
I started going to therapy and they told me that I was showing signs of severe depression and anxiety. I was suicidal coming into 2017, and they wanted me to either be hospitalized or be on medication (but I saw what that did to a loved one and I didn’t want to be carried into bed like I had done for her last summer). The one thing that stuck with me from the therapy sessions is that everything comes in waves. For example: one day, I’d be okay and normal; then the next, I just went through the motions and couldn’t sleep because I just have this urge to cry and replay every hurtful portion of my life (no matter how big or small). I wanted to kill myself, so I could finally be free from me.
I told my family about it and they were worried, and I couldn’t give them an answer as to why. So, I said I’d take it easy.
And that’s exactly what I did.
2017, I came into this year with my circle of friends that knew what I was dealing with and had their own ways of bringing me out of this dark trance. Each of them had their way of checking up on me. For instance, I had two friends that would try to break into my room to make sure I didn’t do anything that would hurt others. I had friends that would go get wings because they were half price and we could just talk about what was on our minds. And I had one friend in particular that would call me a bitch and tell me I wasn’t shit, but in a weird way it made me feel better because it would bring me back to being normal again. I love them in an appreciative way, and wouldn’t have made it through without them.
I couldn’t have gotten through my last year as an Undergraduate without making weird decisions that messed with me, but also made it a hell of a roller coaster. I became close with new people, for both a short and long period of time. I saw the smallest and meanest/sweetest person get elbowed in the head while at a team retreat, and thought “Same” because waves. There was also a beautiful girl in the mix of all things, that I would think about each day and especially at night while I froze and looked at the moon during that retreat. I almost fixed a ton that was wrong or that I had messed up on, but wasn’t able to do so well and I had people I worked with that heard me out and let me grief. I was also brought into a group of veteran volunteers that took me bowling with them, and I learned that bowling while intoxicated is fun, and competing made it better.
Whether it was my depression that kept coming back in waves (some strong and some weak) or my circle that had its own issues or my old people from the summer that I could overly salt chicken with because no can read; I came into the year wanting to kill myself and didn’t.
Now, I’ll always live with these waves and I’ll always be making questionable decisions; but I know that I can handle the waves, for the most part, and I’ll always think back to the elbow and know I ain’t shit in anything I do.
I also got my degree and inherited debt.
The world moved slow; almost like a penny through jello. I stumbled across the pathways, crawled up my stairs, and scratched on my door until the key fit. Then I clung onto the door, hoping it didn’t slam. Through a barbed wire crawl space, I made it to the middle of my room and softly shut he door with my foot. I just stared up at the ceiling, and then glanced to the left to see my bed a few feet lifted off the ground. Before the sun came up, I dragged my body under the covers. Hands under my arm pits, I lifted my lifeless self on top of my brown blankets that sat atop silk sheets that slid like oil on water. With my head buried in the pillows, I covered myself from the daylight. I just stood above myself, looking through the only text message I sent before I woke up on my friend’s chair.
It was a Friday night, we had a liquor bottle and nothing better to do. There were four of us in that room, and we talked about life and what we wanted out of this life that we were gifted. I had the right amount to sleep well for a couple hours, but more than enough to say “I love you” to a someone that I knew was lost in her own right.
I told myself that if I ever started to drink that I’d be an alcoholic. There was a summer where my fear became true. But then again, people always turned to a bottle when the biggest moments of our lives tie us onto the railway.
She told me she had no purpose in life, so she turned to the bottle behind the bar. He lost the love of his life, and in that moment, we bonded over drinks. He nearly became a stepdad and I had my troubles with a girl I took the fast route with, so we asked for a pint each.
One summer, I fell in love with a girl that was committed to another. So, we laid on the floor and cried on our last night together. Then I walked her home, and came back to my friend’s room asking if they were making drinks. I drank her name away. The adults in my life drank sorrows away, so I wonder who I really got it from.
Grandpa told me never to drink because he didn’t want me to fall like my uncles and aunts before me. My dad threatened me with fists if I were ever to drink in front of him. For good reason because I know what they both meant.
My heart is as pure as a sunset and a moonrise in May. My heart is game for trouble and taking the plunge faster than awkward smiles when you lock eyes with the bartender. My heart is pure, so it only makes sense to rebuild and match my love with another who’s heart is held together with duct tape and gorilla glue. If only life were easy enough to put pieces together like the kindergarten puzzle pieces.
I coped better this time. I turned to conversations by the pool than to nightcaps with Jack, Henny, or Morgan. My heart fell and I caught it before it hit the ground and shattered like before.
I know I’ll drink someday, and I know it’ll be in a bowling alley with pure hearts laughing at unathletic miracles. Instead of drinking to forget her name. I don’t want to leave this one behind. I don’t want anymore drinks until her heart is as pure as mine.
I can have a glass of water until my dying day.
Robert Venegas 