Thursday, July 28, 2011


This is the first poem I ever performed at an open mic. This is the written version. The spoken word piece is much longer.

 And I surrender now to this room full of flames.

 Ignited by the gas that seeps from my soul...

 I am enraged.

 Here it goes...

 Flesh torn down by broken bottles

I’m the one to blame for this beautiful addition to my body

The masterpiece…

This body is my mural.

A beauty

One of them being the art it portrays

My scars are my art

A voice for every cut

A story for every scar

And danger was the gas to my imagination

While I’m painting pretty pictures of mental fixation

I like to think I’m  digging through my skin to

Dip into my soul

Only to find a pool of boiling fiery red trickling blood

My body the canvas
Arms filled with artistic memorials

My hands my arms my legs

I am the creation

With every cut I scratch away a memory

That’s has been implanted on my heart

These scars are the story of a dangerous me

Tears  replaced by a drops of blood drawn

Tough me

Blinding my self of pain

Bullying me

Inner pain

Numbed out by physical

Cheap bic Razors to skin

With every open wound

The fire would leak

An explosion would occur

I am these scars

I am these cuts

 Every moment in time that was me

Blind rage

A monster

Fury overpowering my body

This is a beautiful canvas

My beautiful scars

And if I ever felt powerless I was wrong

Because the power that rested in me

Was enough to hurt me

The energy invested in my own little surgeries

Ravishing  rivers of red are the streams I’m coming from
And every time I slice my heart
I carve away a lil memory

I am at war with this skin that carries me
Addicted to cold metal sharp objects compressed upon on my skin
Releasing a lil bit of the journey that its been
We cannot be friends

I wear weakness on the bottom of my foot

Stepping on it every time I moved forward
By Lina Gonzalez

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