I was a police informant in Boyle Heights, East L.A. There are new discoveries in the 54880.
Some people exaggerate their situation like perhaps a loss of some kind, crying over what they think is a love lost vs. a lost conscience. Lying about not what they love but their lost sense of responsibility. Like just not showing up for work, not giving a shit and losing their job. Thinking someone else will pick of the pieces of their life that is already off track. Like looking for a redemption in a junkyard.
How many bottles of alcohol will bring you to your redemption? This is the Mujer not the hombre. Then actually exaggerating about it. No one is above the law.
La mujer pierde su trabajo por beber cuando realmente no se presentó
Thinking things will get settled just because you share the same space with someone who is terrified every day.
The heart I wrote on the markerboard in the kitchen
was an extension of lineage
not a marking of territory
He has gotten more subdued and less contrite
I can share flesh and souls
in the cross bow desire
of transient needs
no one is the possessor of the individual
You intrigue me by your captivity
I come into your arms
and rub your chest and back
What part of you can I not access and possess
I have the password to your soul
as you hold out til the final day
of surrender.
Nothing has really changed.
This blog is about my struggles and redemption. There are tales of interpersonal conflict with men who I have dated. I would like to elevate the blog to healing and redemption, tools I have learned in my 12 step meeting.
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