• Poetry

    The Inbetween

    Caught in the inbetween:
    The state of being a kid and an adult
    Required to act mature,
    But often regarded as a joke

    The disagreeing expectations muddle,
    Puddling at my feet
    Is it acceptable to eagerly jump in?
    Or should I worry?
    If it’s a pool….perhaps it’s depth is too deep.

    Unsure of what to do with myself,
    As I’m caught in this “inbetween”
    It’s an awkward state,
    But it’s a result of being a teen.

    © 2019 Vic Romero

    All Rights Reserved.

    I wrote this circa 2012/2013…I’ve been thinking about an “inbetween” state lately…particularly about early adulthood. More on this later though. For now, I will be leaving you all with this teen-angst selfie from 2013, featuring sunglasses that take up my entire face, a cut-up Never Shout Never shirt, and iconic red lipstick. 

  • Poetry

    Oh, The Horror

    [A double feature
    That defines the human race
    With science fiction]

    They were just married
    Sought help at Frankenstein’s Place
    During the downpour

    What they were in for
    They did not quite understand
    ‘Til the Time Warp dance

    From Translyvania
    Was a transvestite convention
    And new inventions

    Frank N. Furter
    Brought Rocky to life, to love
    Someone for himself

    Then things got crazy
    Seduction caused destruction
    Concluded with dance

    Some odd people died
    But the newlyweds survived
    They went home that night…

    [Humans are insects,
    Crawling on the planet’s face
    Without true meaning]

    © 2013-2018 Vic Romero



  • Speaking My Mind


    I want to upgrade my blog. I don’t mean that I want to redesign it, which I usually do about every year to some degree…but this time, I actually want to invest in my blog. I want to take it more seriously and I want to rebuild the community I used to have.

    My girlfriend has been urging me to do it, but I dismissed it until about two weeks ago. I think it’d be a great idea because I’m graduating in a couple of months so I’ll be able to invest more time into it. Also, if I get a job, it’ll be a nice outlet for me. I will continue to write no matter what I’m doing, but I think it’s about time I take it seriously, just for myself. I want to be able to be more creative and have more control over my blog.

    Although this sounds fantastic, the only thing that is preventing me from pursuing it right now is that I have no knowledge of the blogging world. I’ve been doing some research on it but I don’t have too much time to do that since I’m also finishing my honors thesis. Perhaps I’ll spend more time looking at it this weekend and next weekend…I would like to start working on it in February but I don’t know if that would be too overwhelming.

    Some things I’ve been considering is using an outside provider, like SiteGround, to provide me with a premium WordPress account. One blogger that I love uses that site and I talked to a representative and they were immensely helpful. There are different providers though and they charge different prices and have different packages…it may help for me to figure out what type of package I want in order to make my decision. I don’t know what the goal of my blog is, though.

    I’d like to continue to do pretty much what I’m doing now, but vamp it up a bit. I like how my blog is a conglomerate of different types of writing. I feel like aside from writing more frequently and diversifying my post mores, I really want the writing community back. What I wrote about years ago, when I first started this blog, was how I was previously using an app called Opuss, which I believe is no longer in service. But it was a tight-knit community of writers and we collaborated a ton, it was fantastic! I miss having that type of interaction with people…so…I’m going to attempt to regain that. Soon. The changes will occur soon.

    If anyone has any suggestions or input into the world of upgrading blogs, please comment to let me know!

    xx Vic

  • Short Stories,  Speaking My Mind


    I was ready this time.

    I squatted with my back against the empty pickle barrels, tightly grasping the pistol, waiting. My hands were clammy and shaking, and I tried taking deep breaths to calm myself down. I didn’t want to miss again, not when I only had one bullet left.

    I heard some loud footsteps nearby, presumably the graceless footsteps of the enemy. I leaned out from behind the barrel to get a better look, and sure enough, there she was. She was looking around the dim basement, her expression was frustrated.

  • Speaking My Mind

    Not a Hollow Halloweekend

    Since the fallout with my friend, I’ve been waiting to feel crappy about it, but I haven’t.   Granted, I was very upset for about a week and I had nightmares, but that was it.  I think about her once in awhile, mostly when I’m drinking, but that will diminish over time.

    Perhaps I haven’t been so devasted because I subconsciously saw it coming.  We hadn’t talked much in last few months, the love I had for her was too intense to last, and/or the conflict of interest there was due to her relationship with her best friend…but at the same time, I didn’t think these things would result in the finiteness of our friendship.  I believed that if anything, we just wouldn’t be as close, which was okay with me.  Instead, however, we don’t talk at all.  She hasn’t reached out to me nor has she responded to my texts, even the ones where I was clearly upset.  It’s reminiscent of how my ex iced me out over two years ago now.

    It may also be because I’ve been busy with school, my other friends, and that I have other more pressing concerns.

  • Poetry,  Speaking My Mind


    This is an extremely raw write…I wrote this over the course of several days back in April-March…tears always stung my eyes as I added a couple of lines on my way to class or when I couldn’t focus on studying…I could edit this and clean it up, but I kind of like how…raw and therefore rough it is. I feel like it helps depict my mentality at that time…jagged edges and ill-fitting puzzle pieces. 

    At this point, I’m only torturing myself

    Because I know well

    That nothing will become of this.

    I don’t want it to anyway

    This relationship would drive

    myself crazy

    Because you’re too lazy

    To treat me right

    And you’re a vault

    Locked up tight


    I must love how you hurt me

    Because I’m not coming undone from your touch


    Only you get satisfied

    So why do I keep entangling myself

    In these cheap affairs

    There’s nothing in it for me

    In the end


    We’re not going to last


    I think I rather be alone

    Than be with you and feel miserable

    Our relationship isn’t transparent

    And there isn’t a point in talking about it anymore

    Since it’ll only fall on deaf ears

    Like what has happened before

    It’s exhausting trying to one-up you

    I’m killing myself so you can’t

    But there isn’t a point

    Since I can’t accomplish anything if I’m dead

    We aren’t friends

    We don’t know how to be friends


    I’ve known all of this for awhile now

    Ever since I realized you aren’t lonely

    You just want someone to fuck

    Or a thing

    I lose my autonomy with you

    As you pursue sexual satisfaction

    I remain still for you

    Your hands graze my body

    And penetrate me

    To please you

    And you alone


    I am enough

    You’re not allowed to make me feel less than

    But I’m not gonna stop entertaining your texts

    And I won’t stop spending the night

    Until you stop inviting me

    Because ending the hurricane that we are

    Means also ending the rainbow in my life


    I’m not really part of anything

    A stray leaf floating through branches covered in leaves that match each other

    But I’m different colored

    Mixing everything together


    You’re no longer allowed to camp out at the forefront of my mind

    I have other things to think about

    Other friendships to foster

    And problems I want to solve

    You treat me like I’m ordinary

    And I deserve better


    I like the idea of you

    I like hooking up with you because I like you

    You like hooking up with me because I’m convenient

    I am just a body

    Without agency

    A rag doll

    Raggedy Vie


    © 1 March 2016 Vic Romero

  • Poetry,  Speaking My Mind

    Sweet ‘N’ Sour

    I fell in love with your words,
    They gently caressed my ears
    Sending shivers up my spine

    I fell in love with your voice,
    Smooth and low
    Emitted from your lovely lips
    Which were frequently goofily smiling

    I fell in love with the way you said my name
    I could’ve heard it all day
    And your kisses were always sweet

    I fell in love with your eyes,
    A deep and hypnotizing green
    Penetrating into mine
    Seeing right through me

    I fell in love with your hands,
    Soft and big, the most perfect hands that I’ve ever seen
    Attached to arms, so strong
    Strong enough to hold me

    I fell in love,
    I fell in love easily
    But it was wrong,
    It was all wrong
    So eventually…

    I fell out of love with your hands,
    Cold and hard, they choked my heart cunningly
    Attached to arms, so strong
    But they refused to even hug me

    I fell out of love with your eyes,
    A stormy green
    Hiding secrets and lies
    Drowned me in your tsunamis

    I fell out of love with the way you said my name,
    Spat it out
    And your kisses soured in the new day

    I fell out of love with your voice,
    Hoarse and low
    That emitted from your bloody lips,
    Which were frequently demonically grinning

    I fell out of love with your words
    They seared my ears,
    Burning my entire body

    © 2013 Vic Romero

    Thnks Fr Th Mmrs
    *inspired by the lovely Sam…thanks for inspiring me xx

  • Poetry,  Speaking My Mind

    Love Bites (ep. 2): Sweet(ish) F(ish)

    The nights when I almost released my tether
    To fly high over the moon
    Talking myself in and out of sanity
    About my impending doom

    His baritone anchored me safely to earth
    Swaddling me
    His baritone made me feel like I was his universe
    Talking to me

    The mornings when I almost crashed to the ground
    Because I didn’t pull open my parachute
    My head pounding in sync with my heart
    About my hopeless bloom

    His baritone anchored me safely to earth
    Swaddling me
    His baritone made me feel like I was his universe
    Talking to me

    Then the nights woke up
    And the mornings fell asleep
    Because all good things end
    Once it’s broken, it’s difficult to repeat

    But I’m grateful that his baritone was there to anchor me
    And swaddle me when I was cold
    I’m grateful that he provided me with such comfort
    When I was all alone
    I’m grateful that he made me feel important
    And for those mornings when he serenaded me to sleep
    I’m grateful that we openly conversed
    I will fondly treasure these memories.


    © 2015 Vic Romero

    I decided to write a poem for this installment instead of a story. Here is the first and second stories of the Love Bites series.  The final installment will be posted in two weeks on Monday, 24 August 11am.

  • Poetry


    Crossing the road with the crowd
    Passed a boy with brown hair
    He was going the other way,
    With another crowd
    Yet he picked me out.
    His eyes caught mine,
    Hazel and big
    But he kept walking
    Back turned to me then,
    As he went to the other side

    And I thought as I walked,
    That he looked awfully familiar
    Then I coughed
    Because someone exhaled
    Cigarette smoke into my face
    I turned around again
    To see if I actually knew him
    But at that point he was too far away

    I continued to walk down the block,
    Walking many blocks
    Paying no mind to the time the clocks tell
    A lone saxophonist played
    His music circled my hips
    I couldn’t help but to sway
    The passion he felt was evident in what he played
    I wish I had that passion
    Or at least enthusiasm
    For something, anything
    I paid him a dollar for the song,
    Before moving on

    And I thought as I walked,
    That that song sounded awfully familiar
    Then I coughed
    Because someone exhaled
    Cigarette smoke into my face
    I tried humming the tune
    To see if I actually knew it
    But at that point its notes were forgotten in my brain

    Rounding the corner of Bleecker street,
    The pavement slapping against my feet
    Passed a sex shop
    Posters covered the windows and walls
    Stragglers walked in
    Drool running down their chins
    And I remembered

    I remembered as I walked
    That the boy from before was an old lover
    And that song was played when we first met each other
    And the sex shop became my way to find satisfaction
    But ultimately I lost all of my passion

    Then I thought as I walked
    That I had no idea where I was going
    I opted to take shots
    Because my memories were too noisy
    I headed for the Blind Tiger
    But money I lacked
    Because I had lost my job when I was with my boss on my back

    I remembered as I walked
    Hating that I could still remember
    I thought that I had forgotten what I forgot
    All this stuff that happened last December
    I suppose forgetting isn’t that hard
    But forgetting what’s forgotten is the challenge
    Perhaps with more heroin,
    I’ll be able to forget
    And find passion and direction.

    © 2013 Vic Romero

  • Poetry


    I made a wish last night on an airplane,
    Since the city lights tend to conceal the shooting stars
    I wished that I could forget everything
    And just be wherever you are…

    But no matter how many planes fly,
    Or how tightly I cross my fingers,
    If I keep on wishing,
    I’ll only find myself unsuccessful and bitter
    Because wishes don’t come true when made upon planes,
    Nor do they come true upon stars
    The whole concept of wishing is merely a fallacy
    Although the idea makes for a lovely fantasy

    So I’ll leave my wishing alone for now,
    It’ll have to come true by my own means, somehow.

    © 2012/2013 Vic Romero

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