Space Snowman (Or Ultima Thule)

By: Rodolfo Perez

A man floats through space.

He’s a man, shaped like two.

Brown, iced, leaning forward,

Looking down at nothing.

He has been beaten to a pulp,

One can see the scars on his face.

There’s a story behind every dent on his rugged skin.

A moment in time he will always carry,

But never feel.

The dents on his skul...

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Country Roads
By: Rodolfo Perez

I’m learning to die,
Living to consume,
And learning to lie.
I don’t understand very much,
Like why she would give me that “lOOk”
Or why I became too afraid to touch.

I fell asleep in Mexico,
I woke up in reality,
I keep telling myself to let go,
As if my life is built on duality.

I do terrible things to remind myself how good life can be,
But I l...

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Dr. Love (or How I Learned to Stop Wallowing and Write Poetry)

By: Rodolfo Perez

Love is (sometimes) patient,

Love is (sometimes) kind,

And sometimes, love is a needle in the eye,

Or a kick to the groin.

It is a cliff-hanger,

With your mother waiting to catch you,

When you let go.

It is losing your voice,

From crying into your pillow.

It is real...

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