I stick with my fam,
those who got my back
better than any chiropract.
These are crazy fools that
keep it real and crude.
We cum like glue
and stick together
like gum to shoes.
We’re intense with flows
of dense molasses
to clog arteries
and murk the masses
Out to heist jewels
and ready to cause disaster,
blasting first
and asking questions after.
We hover over your rotting cadaver.
‘Cause our craft kills
with vibrating waves of thrills,
that flood the streets of every burrow.
piercing hearts
and hits the spine like an epidural.
Feel these endorphins
flooding your brain to
morph the pain
that’s keeping you awake.

Primer Intento

Lenguas quemadas, ardiendo y el café sigue fluyendo. Se coge una taza y yemas bailan sobre el teclado. El corazón abierto de piernas conduciéndote un examen de papanicolaou. Que se de reconocimiento de este primer intento. No hay barreras o muros deteniendo al burro intelectual. Conjurando tres lenguas, bueno, dos buenas y una no esta tan mal. Se intenta hacer un tipo de desahogo. Utilizando idiomas de romance mi “despojo” ocupa balance. Izquierda, céntrica o derecha la influencia se odia igual sabiendo que intelectual,mente armado no tienes voz contra el ejercito de ejecutivos poseyendo $$$… Amor.

Patria y Valor nos enseñan desde morros que es lo que hace tus decisiones “mayor.” Mentiras? Serían más agradable porque la realidad no es tan honorable. La fecha pinta imágenes de familias unidas que olvidan toda la feria perdida e invertida. Inseguros son los que requieren seguridad igualada a cuanto uno ocupa gastar. La casa Haroz siempre esta hasta el tope, llena de locos que les encanta el chupe. Inmóvil como un maniquí disfrutando esta familia que me hace sonreír. Nunca hay falta de risas porque todos estamos sin tristezas.

Esta familia sigue unida, juntos contra la envidia de los que sueñan tomar nuestras vidas. Como la maza de un tamal… un tipo de engrudo, para no ser tan rudo, al explicar como nos endurecemos contra el mal.

Family Bonding

Dedicated to the sick f*cks who stand by your side, by all means necessary.

The story of our bond is strange, ‘cause it dates back before the internet age. Just keep on reading, I will explain. Initiated by previous generations before we was even an idea. Your pops Martin and my ma’ Irma, two platonically loving individuals, inseparable and always keeping it Philia. Stories passed and shared about this true friendship that can not be compared. Time, tragedy and trauma left them separated, but bond never broken. The years passed and something woken. A phone call, left my moms shookt and scared. “It’s him,” she blares. Hangs up the phone, and stares. Confused and wielding a piercing gaze, my mother pulls on her hair. Fazed. Begging her to explain what floods her brain. She exclaims about her conversation with a man beyond the grave. “His voice is exactly the same, even the way he clears his throat… I’m going, insane…” I sit and listen as she starts spitting these fables, about her dear comrade she be missing. All over the table, she breaks down every tale. Sitting n obsoarbin’, feeling like I’ve already met this hombre.

[weeks pass]

Bearing your fathers name, and though I’ve never met him, you even look the same. We were about 15 when I introduced myself to you, with a handshake and fist bump that led to a few brews between us two. Our first encounter was casual, genuine. Having pozole for breakfast at nana’s became our usual fixin’. From back yard parties, to going into our twenties, university and adulting. You cry, I laugh, we wail. Feels weird that we’ve known each other only so many years. Your aura is f*cking severe. Organically bound similar to our parents, as if it were lost and found. Never once was it in jeopardy. Still holding strong. Possessing similar habits since we’ve been small. Still sleeping over at each other’s cribs. Where nights of drinking, turn into music trivia and track skipping. I’m always able to vent to you without any judgement. An arrangement non-verbally contracted that’s very much appreciated and never taken for granted. The kilometers that separated us for a while couldn’t break our bond, ’cause regularly we cracked brews via FaceTime.

Thank you for being you and always staying true. I hope you enjoyed this is a romantic {but non-homosexually-driven} write-up of us two f*ck-ups. Who share a need to know whats-what and who’s got the moolah. So, don’t forget to check your cheddar for mice, looking to swoop up your vice at a roll of a dice.

Love you, fucking virgin