she said, “you need to give a shit,”
i told her i don’t need anything anymore

she told me i’m an asshole,
i told her i’m not anything anymore

any more alcohol, she said,
“you won’t be any fun anymore”

i told her i don’t give a shit,
probably said some asshole things,
cracked another spiteful drink,
and watched myself implode

i’ve never cared so much about anything before
any more of this,
and i wont have any more to give

©Steven Cuenca



clear cut corners

Playing 16
on the road again @snapshotsteve

life used to have clear cut corners
and it was colored-in proper
with familiar shapes
and a brick road with our deaths
at the end of it

then you fucked it up,
and now i’m walking in a fog;
the colors have smudged into blacks and greys
the lack feels great
i have no interest of what’s in front of me

the road to death is probably growing closer
i’ll start jogging,
maybe i’ll run into someone special
or maybe i’ll fall into a hole
that smells like bitter beers
and back aches,
maybe the hole’s so deep
that my back breaks
and i have to get used to looking up
instead of looking at what’s ahead of me

i’ve been walking towards death all this time
but when i look up all i see is life,
no ones ever told me i couldn’t fly
and if they ever did,
i’m sure they’d just want someone
to hold their hand while they
walked on fog-patterned bricks
to death

life used to have clear cut corners
then you fucked it up
and now i can fly

“clear cut corners”
©Steven Cuenca


Playing 19
one of the happy bits, @snapshotsteve

2017 started with
dancing drunk.
she and i were broken up and faking it,
at least she was.

the ball dropped–
on my fucking face

what a start, what a start

i cried in my mother’s arms
my brother’s arms
my puppies’s paws
i cried playing video games
i cried to the musix

doo doo doo so sad so sad la la la so sad

2017 eased up on me a little
gave me a car in my name
a job
and a new best friend.
it gave me rhythmic thoughts
and the drive to translate them.
it gave me some of my favorite memories
in this life,

thank you ’17!

’17 figured it could fuck the sad out of me
13 different attempts to be specific,
i don’t remember half their names;
trying to medicate with ha ha has
and hoe hoe hotels.

self-destructive and selfish

2017 had a lot of funny jokes, like:

a shot and a pill did

you were the last person i got sick.
i felt so bad, i figured i’d go celibate
for the rest of my life,
but you never left my side
and I don’t know why,
but here you are, 3 months later.

my last gift from ’17

©Steven Cuenca


glass broken

my love is broken glass
don’t step on me
just watch me sparkle like a fake diamond

don’t try to put me back together
i’m not a jigsaw puzzle
just watch me sparkle like a fake diamond

don’t sweep me off the ground
i am where i fall
just watch me sparkle like a cheap diamond

my love my love my love is glass broken–

wait! come back!

i lied, you can step on me, if you want
listen to my Crunch.

piece me back together however you’d like
maybe i’ll be better this time

sweep me off the ground
i’ve been here long enough

and please, please, please please
just watch me sparkle for a moment

i am beauty broken,
but i am beautiful
i am.

“glass broken”
©Steven Cuenca




Playing 11
Lia, @snapshotsteve

we were fucked off of wine and brew.
your eyes were puppy off the ecstasy.

i told you i loved you
in the hotel room;
i didn’t mean it,
but i wanted to scream it.

i missed how it felt on my tongue
and my teeth.

it’s probably not fair,
you’re young
and the word has so much weight to it,
but i feel so weightless in saying it
and maybe that’s a problem.

i love you the way i love thai food
and the color blue on sunny days,
but i’ve never written about thai food
or sky blues, until now,
and i’m not always in the mood for them
like i am for you.

you make me hungry again.
i’m hungry right now,
so we should do the thai thing, vegan.
we’ll figure it out.

©Steven Cuenca


rose brown

you’re a rose

browned for lack of


or because the sun

smacked you around

for too long

or maybe you were


thirsty for something

you couldn’t reach

or maybe the opposite,

maybe you found the one thing

that gives you life and you

drowned, drowned

browned, brown like me,

but you’re still a rose

removed from the beauty

of living colors;

the softness of your flesh

has been replaced

with the beauty of the


the Crunch. i hear

when i have you in my palm

and bring you to my ear

and squeeze for that final sound:


“rose brown”

©Steven Cuenca

good manic morning


i’m not crazy

i’m manic today

and the hazy greys

look like lazy blues

i’m hungry again

and these straight-out-the-dryer

chicken fried socks

feel good on my feets

morning morning

i just wanna clean

my room to sunlight

i don’t want to fuck anything

i just want to stare at the mirror

and figure him out

i am love bubbling

floating to the center of everything

defying sciences and spirits of man

i know i’m not happy

my brain is playing a cheap trick

feeding me fast food, but

who cares who cares who cares

all that matters is the first three bites

where the vinegar and pickles shock your cheeks

and the buns coat the top of your mouth with sweetness,

the mush on your tongue tastes exactly how it’s advertised

and you know it’s not real but you don’t think about it,

you just enjoy it for the moment,

while your breath grows heavy

and your face starts feeling greasy

and you smell like onions

and your body is preparing itself

to crash violently back into depression.

“good manic morning”

©Steven Cuenca