I have no voice. 

The things I want to say, I can’t. 

My mumblings lips are sewed together,  

not a gasp, nor a breath, can escape this dark hole. 

Every time I want to say a word,  

the pain of ripping at the seams brings my efforts to a stop. 

I have so much to say, so many ideas and aspirations, 

but this incorrigible handicap is disabling me from setting my words free. 

Free from the cavernous wasteland of my mind, 

into the breaches of daylight at the sound of my words. 

For most of my short, fragile life, I have kept quiet, kept my thoughts to myself, spoke only when asked. 

I didn’t think anyone cared what I had to say.  

That my ideas were worthless, not worth the waste of breath. 

I was afraid of being rejected for my opinions, for my personality, for my true feelings. 

I was encased in my own translucent bubble. I could look out, but no one could truly look in. 

They were met with a façade of insecurity and cluelessness. 

I delivered a package that had a pretty bow on it, but empty. 

I just…I can’t take it anymore. 

I can’t take the constant immobility of my mouth when there is a warzone roaring in my head.  

I can’t take the endless nagging at the back of my conscience to say something, anything, but never acting on it. 

And I finally realized that it was time.  

Time to speak what I actually felt.  

Time to state my honest opinion. 

Time to fight for what I believe in. 

Time to open my mouth and scream. 

Time to be me. 

I will not hide in the shadows and let the fear overtake me. 

I will not try to fit in by agreeing to what is said. 

I will not comply with what someone asks of me if I do not believe in it. 

I am no longer in those crippling chains that had held me back for so long. 

I have so many years to come,  

So many things to experience, that I cannot wither my days away.  

I will use the power of my words to inspire and create. 

I will use the power of my words to nurture and grow. 

I will use the power of my words to help others and help myself. 

I now have a voice. 



His hands did not only run over her body,  

but ran over her soul, ran over her dignity.  

The leer he had on his face is the only thing 

she sees when she closes her eyes.  

A room with 4 walls, thick enough to muffle her cries, 

closing in on her, suffocating her in, walls of 

fear and despair.  

She stared at them because anything was 

better than looking in his eyes. 

Her life was split in two, divided between life before the accident  

and life after it slipped in like a poison into her life. 

She didn’t say a word, too much of a self-hatred in her bones,  

black with disgust at him, at the world, at herself.  

She forces a smile to keep up presentations and  

speaks when spoken to.  

The world used to be shrouded with a white  

light, but now it is in the shadow of dull grays. 

She is no longer that girl who would  

laugh with her friends and family,  

but the girl who lost all tears she could ever have, 

unsaying of all that she went through,  

of what she has now become.  

In the end, all she wanted was for him to say sorry. 


It builds up inside, like an inferno 

reaching its boiling point, almost 

to the end, moving and moving 

until the precipice has been met  

and collapsed and this anger  

that threatens to collapse  

and collapse into the  

happiness that it craves, 

that freedom it lives for, because 

the surroundings are too much  

to bear, and there is no space  

for there to be anything, 

no cataclysm to climb  


it is all just TOO MUCH, 

and it may seem like nothing 

but in reality, it never  

ever is enough, there is too much  

that happens that keeps on climbing scratching for 


to be pulled away  

with the tides, the magma, 

threatening to burst, 

threatening to heat up, 

threatening to supersede all odds, 

and there is so much to hate in this world 

that never seems to leave 

people alone, but in the 


humans feel, 

I f e e l, 

I have e m o t i o n, 

I may be sensitive, 

but at least I can sense things, 

sense is when I can collapse 

into myself and threaten 

and climb, climb, and climb, and climb, 

it is not a slow process, 

it is not logical by any means.


You know that feeling when you try on

a new set of clothes at the mall,

knowing for sure that it looked bigger on the rack,

but then when you actually put it on,

you feel like you can’t breathe?

But you know it’s fine because you can just return it?


Well, I can’t.


I’ve always felt…different.

Like I was wearing a skinsuit, showing

an outward appearance to the world,

building up a facade that is easier to swallow,

while inside, truly deep inside,

under the latex and the rubber,

was a scared soul,

that was uncomfortable and sweaty.


Uncomfortable because it wasn’t fitting in the right places,

and sweaty because

I was too scared to tell anyone about it.

We are taught to believe that when we are born into this world,

our life is predestined.


That if you are born a girl,

you wear pink,

you like dolls and makeup, you smell nice.


And if you’re a boy,

you like sports, you wear the colors black and blue,

you play with monster trucks.


You are stamped with certain characteristics,

that transform you so you are no longer an actual person,

but just another cookie-cutter poster child for the world to see.

But the fact of the matter is,

you cannot become something that you are not,

just like you cannot force an apple to be an orange.


If the apple tastes like an apple, but has the skin of an orange, it is still an apple.


You wonder,

“why me?”


Why was I born in a body that was not mine?

Why did I feel like

every action I made every day,

was a robot controlling who I was,

rather than an actual human being?


Why did I feel empty every time I answered

by my birth name,

or every time the pronouns I was assigned to

was used to embody who I was.


It seemed like there was an error running behind

my eyelids.


My body was giving up on me,

and all that was left was an empty cavern of fear and insecurity.


And it is this cavern where my worst thoughts come to surface,

where I lie on the cold,

tiled floor,

and wonder, “what is the point of it all?”


What is the point of living when

there is no true life to live?

When every breath I take

is faulty and a product of my own inescapable fears?

It would be so easy

to just…give up.


To just become another

statistic in a New York Times Article.


But when I look into the crystal ball,

I know that this is not my fate.

The truth is,

things are


when you are alone.


And you’re not alone.


You are bigger and brighter than ever before

because your friends are

there for you.


To support through the thick and thin,

to hold you when you’re crying your guts out,

but also, to laugh with when you are on top of the world.


You could be gay.

You could be straight.

You could be transgender.

You could be asexual.

You could be non-binary.

You could be anything you want,

and no man with a freaking toupee on his head can tell you otherwise.


*Dedicated to a friend who spread their wings and flew towards the sun.*

A mother’s love

“Something lost.”

Before she knew it, her house, her children, and her dignity were gone, and she had nothing.

“Not abandoned or thrown away, just lost.”

They said it was for the good of everyone, that they were safe now, that she was now safe.




“What is left is a hole of space, sucking everything in and letting nothing out.”

Marie was never immune to sadness before it all happened. But at least, then, she wasn’t popping pills or banging her head against the wall.

“Once something is lost, everything else seems to follow.”

She was locked up in that place, the padded walls, the piss stains, and the indents of her nails on the door were the only decorations.

“But like everything else, life goes on.”

She had someone to talk to. Not her therapist, but other souls who have lost so much.

“Begin to build it back up again…”

She played board games, had friends, and didn’t scream in her sleep anymore.

“…and slowly, happiness will follow.”

Marie meeting her lawyer the next day. She will see her kids once again.

The only word we need


It cannot be described.

No word can capture the true weight it can hold in our hearts.


Every person has experienced it at least once in their life.

Either on the receiving end or the giving end.


It can bring a plethora of emotions,  a spectrum that can range from hurt and sadness,  to peace and happiness.


A one syllable world that represents so much,  holds more meaning than the secret of the universe.

Sometimes it’s simple.  Sometimes it’s not.


You can live it in all shapes and sizes,  colors and aspirations.

All that matters is that you feel something.


Does it ever end?



You decide.


It cannot be summed up in the words,  because there is no need for words.

You know when it’s there.


If all goes well,  something is wrong.

It’s supposed to make you feel a cyclone of emotions.

And if it does not,  it’s not love.




Uninvited Guest

It’s the silent killer.

It creeps in every crevice,

every pocket of comfort,

every secure place.

It sneaks into our body,

snaking over each and every surface.

It is the ultimate uninvited guest.

No one can escape the infinite tendrils of terror and sickness.

It is inconspicuous but is in every home in America…

and beyond.

The villain that invades our homes,

is dust.

Beautiful Addiction

They say I was dancing when I came out of my mother’s womb.

That the melody of life moved me.

That it opened my eyes and started my heart.


When other kids were learning a, e i, o, u, I was learning do, re, mi, fa, so, la, ti, do.

It is part of my DNA, ingrained in the tissues of my brain.

It is my second language, instead of Spanish. German, or French I speak the language of music.

A language that can have a myriad of words, or none at all.


Music is that drug that I have an endless supply of,

my stash never going empty,

my hunger for it never going unquenched.

I crave it every single day,

I itch for that high it gives me, lifting me up into the infinite light.


Every hour, every minute, every second, my hands are yearning to press play.

Every sound I hear turns into a beat, every word a song lyric.

The thing is, there is so much variety, you think you’ve heard it all, but then you realize

the true depth of what you are hearing.

So many beats and rhythms, some ritardando, some accelerando, some high, some low.


When I am sad, it comforts me. It is that friend you can confide in, that crutch that builds you up.

It helps me go through the day with an open mind and an open heart. It fuels my will to keep on going.

When I am filled with joy, it joins in my laughter. It fills me when I am empty.

All I do, I do it for the music in me.


I will never let go of this madness that holds me. This madness that loses my grip on reality.

Together, me and the music, we will embark on this journey.


The journey that explores the bond between who I am and who music makes me become.

I am certain. 

I know what I want, when I want it. 

But at the same time,  I’m ambivalent. 

In the face of what I need to do,  my responsibilities,  the choice isn’t as easy. 

I try to be altruistic. 

Be generous, kind,  not stingy or selfish. 

I don’t want to disparage anyone. 

To look down on them for differences.  

We are all one,  and we should treat each other with respect. 

No matter what,  age,  gender or sexuality, 

disparity should not exist. 

See the world through someone else’s eyes. 

My goal is to engender. 

To produce something new in this world. 

Something great. 

We should not lament the horrors of this world,

  but em brace the good we have,

 and work to make things better. 

The beautiful world around us should not be used prodigaly,  

But with love and care,  for it’s resources. 

Our journey may be obscure, 

But our goal is not. 


I am in my own worl-,

no, universe.

It’s just me, myself, and these rhythmic beats.

Music is my lifelong companion.

Music never leaves me.

Music cheers me up whenever I’m down.

Music gives my life, when I feel I don’t deserve one.

Music…saves me.

Everything else is just background noise.

A faint buzzing that fades in and out of my ear.

Not once reaching my mind.

My mind is completely encaptured by the highs and lows,

the lyrics and meanings,

and the falsettos and vibratos.

I just put my earbuds in and,

I have finally reached perfect happiness.




Below is a link to some of my favorite songs, that just makes me feel better. Make me feel bliss. Check it out! What songs make you feel good? Comment below! 🙂


The last indie playlist you’ll ever need from indiekids on 8tracks Radio.