Month: November 2017


ig: @snapshotsteve

there’s a monster in the closet
it’s shaped like a mother and two little boys
it has this dance, where it trembles
up and down, side by side

and there’s another monster
it’s outside of the closet
it’s bigger and stronger
and it’s drunk

there’re two musics in the room
one sings:
hide-and-seek, peek-a-boo
we play this game
when he drinks a few

and the second sounded like:
your father is the smartest man i ever met
your father is so beautiful
you’re going to be just like him
you’re going to be just like him
you’re going to be just like him


©Steven Cuenca


none of it was important

doin’ it. @snapshotsteve

a father was murdered.

i was 4

and i was told he died in a car accident.

my mother told me the truth

years later, as an adult,

and i avoided eye contact

because i couldn’t mirror her pain.

a car, a man, he died he died he died

and none of it was important.


an old man gathered the kids,

he attempted to explain a Pink Floyd song.

i was 12

and all of the kids avoided eye contact

as he fixed his own

to carve the minds of the youth

word by word, beat by beat

and none of it was important.


a drug dealer was robbed.

i was 16

and he sent us to get his money back.

i avoided eye contact,

as they destroyed his body.

all i did was punch his dick three times,

and none of it was important.


a boy violated another.

i was 20.

i was inebriated, i was conscious,

but i did not go against the grain.

i avoided eye contact and found that

my physical body is not important.


a first week back in the city,

i was 21

and the subway smelled like shit.

there was a lady standing a few feet away

with feces dropping out of her jeans.

the passengers avoided eye contact

as she politely picked up the pieces

and none of it was important.


a marriage dissolved.

i was 22

as i ran the mathematics of divorce

and future holidays in my head.

i avoided eye contact

while patiently listening to

both parties, both stories

and none of it was important.


a girlfriend cheated.

i was 23.

i knew when it started, and i knew when we ended.

i avoided eye contact

as i shook his hand after their sleepover.

we lasted 5 years

and none of it was important.


i always figured our lives were circles,

that everything we’re living has happened already

and are happening simultaneously.

that we are here, then and everywhen.

my circle is a chase for love.

i’m going to die for it,

and be born through it a moment after.

And maybe my circle is a wheel,

and maybe it’s rolling towards something.

i just know that i can breathe better,

think better,

and love better,

when i remind myself

that i am not important.

“none of it was important”

©Steven Cuenca