Posted in Blog, Creative Writing

I am the worst, but…

Hola angels,

I’ve actually been quite busy lately, editing things together for the film I’m making, and so on. It’s been fun, but a long process. I have also been slacking in terms of actual blogging, but I have an Ask Jen post which should be up on Sunday (you guys asked some GREAT questions), so hopefully you will forgive me! I’m such a bad blogger, so thank you for sticking with me. It really means so much to me.

Honestly, I’ve been working on stuff, but I’ve been a little blue since arriving home from vacation. It isn’t that I don’t like my home, I love my home, and even though I wasn’t gone long, I missed my family and friends (I basically took you guys with me, so..), but there is definitely something to be said for bright lights, pretty beaches, and a view that even rain can’t spoil. I think it is made worse by the fact I’m editing videos of that time on an almost daily basis, so I just feel even more wanderlust while I’m trying to work. I don’t know. I’m just an overly emotional weirdo who gets particularly emotional about seaside towns where you can get 5 quality donuts for less than three pounds, this is just the kind of blog you are following. Sorry.

Anyway, I won’t bore you with the details, as I do have (and hopefully this doesn’t bore you) some new stuff for you.


J x

jennifer juan sleepwalk

Time and Space

I lip synced love along our mutual melody,
life is good,
but mortality moves me.
I dance for the danger,
but you don’t play that way.
God, you’re so secure,
not quite the daring darling I am.
So ambitious to build,
but destined to destroy.
Helpless to the heaven,
pulling the wings from our butterfly,
burning our love under a sunny day,
and a looking glass.
I am a wormhole of wasted time,
but you still explore,
when I trip you on the laces you wish were velcro,
and you topple through the walls,
constructed to keep out conquerors like me.
If I could be something else,
believe me,
we would play make believe,
but I’ve been running,
smart enough to invest in velcro,
and I can’t catch up
to the me who is already running from you.

All The Way

Well, this just got heavy,
not said like Marty,
You’re on me.
No, it’s fine,
this is fine.
I feel like the entire planet watched me
walk in here with you,
but now,
I’m as lonely as I’ve ever been.
Your breath is constantly on my neck,
and your words are constantly in my mind,
dressed in red,
and telling me
“girl, get out.”

All Lives Matter?

Graves and hearts will be empty,
as they keep our corpses to hide behind.
They decorate with dishonesty
and plant pain in purity.
It never changes.
You arrive home,
dinner and discussion.
Your luxury is living,
untouched by untrust.
You have trust in those,
who vandalise the virtue,
of a world you pretend is equal.
Pulled over,
a family pulled apart
a split second,
spills spirits for centuries.
It is always nothing to do with you,
especially because you insist on that.
Another stitch in the “All Lives Matter!” blanket,
which only covers those
who wish to cover their eyes.
There is no innocence in ignoring,
and no absolving in abstaining.


I love your landscape,
call me Dora,
I’m plotting your pretty,
far after my eyes have fallen,
in defeat, as I fell for you.
I grip your gaze,
even when I only see it in my dreams.
Every night, I rise like Regan,
and my core contorts,
I search, mole like,
sensing your sweetness.
Clumsy, I clamour,
for the glamour of your body.
When I awake, I’ll listlessly long for more,
but I have found you in my fantasies,
I fall back to bed,
and dream you are here.

Two Girls Walk Into A Bar

“Vino blanco?”
I am echoed,
she is served first,
sips and strikes up something.
We have Cádiz in common,
but not exploration.
I’ve returned weary,
my eyes benching baggage,
nightcap and nap are miles away,
because she talks,
and she talks,
and she talks.
I am talking to myself.
chained to the conversation,
dragged on the back of a verbal moped.
I’ve always heard I talk too much,
I hear it on delay,
long after I am done talking,
she suffers the same affliction.
We share a scar,
car accident,
back of the neck,
please don’t ask further.
I have more,
from wilderness wandering,
and her left ring finger is decorated,
with the one treasure I never found.


There is life inside this body,
only just,
and it might last,
go the distance,
she’s restless.
She’s obsessed with meaning,
if you catch my meaning.
It’s now or never,
forever or whatever,
It’s exhausting,
picking up each hope,
stabbing it with the next pin,
connected to a fuckboy lifeline.
When does it end?
She gathers up all she has,
hands it to the next hope,
maybe this time?

Million Ways

He is my man, in a million ways.
A damn dream come true.
The kind that bides,
vibrant and immersive,
meeting the moon,
and stained on my sunrise.
I’m blue without the benefits of being his best girl,
lost in our lavender lust,
on our valiant, deviant adventure.
He is my man, for a million days,
despite distance,
despite defeat,
he is dearly and deeply mine.

Ms Franklin

I flew above my head,
smiling down on what we were.
I kissed her, higher and higher,
until the sky asked us to get a room.


I’ll lend you the gold from my lungs,
happily poor,
and we fall,
You take my breath,
and I’ll willingly give more,
happily poor,
for a lifetime of your love.

Obvious Opium 

Our garden grew,
against the odds,
with pattern bright,
and petals soft.
Love born of nature,
entwined in earth,
not stopped by winter,
a summer birth.
Born for day,
but never sleeping at night.
Breathe in the crystals of our creation.

El Hombre Y Su Flor

In His Life

“Window Shop” from Ours
“Beach Walk” from Ours

Ask Jen!
Blogger’s Ball + New Poems
Further Writing Adventures

Ask Jen

20 thoughts on “I am the worst, but…

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