Motherhood –

You humble me.

A softening of my belly,

My character too.

Cry baby,

Tenderize my heart.

Everything I thought I knew,

Falls apart.

Motherhood –

The most of abstract of art.

Won’t you cradle me softly,

So I don’t get lost at the start.

5am rolls around and I find myself in the same position. Writing furiously, barely legible in my leather bound journal

I ask myself, where is my ego presenting itself? Where I am conning myself?

I feel I know the answer, but am still afraid to release myself to the truth. A control withholding me from complete release

I am still fearful of my own weakness. Unable to present anything short of perfection to the outside world. How can I let them think less of me than my pretty little box wrapped in ribbons and gold?

How I would beg for a reckless night as a fool. No trace, no judgment, but freedom to do without rule.


I am fucking high

High as a fucking kite

I fly so high, all I feel is delight

I am so fucking high

I give no shits for what isn’t right

I’m naked and free as bird

I fly high and obsess over the absurd

I only have myself to judge and I lean into it, testing my nerve

No fucks given, it’s my life and I want to be heard

Kind of Blue

I am out of my mind. The clock reads 4:28 and I sit naked on the couch writing in my journal and listening to Miles Davis’s ‘Kind of Blue’ on the record player to my right. It feels quite romantic, but I know myself well enough to be familiar with the scene I’m painting.

A challenged young woman, sexy and discontent in solitude. My, such a role I enjoy to play. A lazy sigh escapes my lips. I’ve been writing for at least an hour. Stream of consciousness letting my thoughts slip. Unsurprisingly, it’s very disconcerted. Sexual and frustrated. My inner kinks developing rapidly as I chased my high. Swiftly, it replaced itself with more intimate emotions. Family, self awareness, fragility…

I examine myself as best as possible from an outer perspective. I take relief in an opportunity to flip the record. A blessing from another time.

Jazz always makes me think of Clinton. Man, he was such a wet towel, but so beautiful in so many ways. I still want to show him love in the way he deserves to see. I don’t think we were ever forever, but I feel a large role was to show him a road to something free. I know I opened his heart to things he didn’t believe, though he is so capable and ready for it.

I consider who I’ve become. I may be a suit to try on and grow out of. I am excellent at opening eyes and being of servitude, but I seem to always find a wall of discontent in a partner. I feel so immensely powerful in my independence, I wonder is the company is worth the commitment?

Likely, it is my fear generating these delusions. However, there is always the possibility I thrive most in solitude. I hear my own thoughts clearer when I am alone. I miss the feeling of being loved, but I find a way to be fulfilled. Where are my priorities?

Side B of the record and I realize I need to relax. The morning hours are creeping in and my mind is swirling. I haven’t cum and I feel lost and at peace with myself. Who I am? Who are you? What am I to you? Tell me darling, true.

What day is it?


Today I went to the beach for sunset and the police were giving our tickets for standing around too long.

Today I wanted to run and had no where to go.

Today I ran out of gloves on my way to get takeout and had paranoia.

Today I felt guilt for wanting to see my friends.

Today the simplest of things made me feel needy.

The world is crumbling, but they ask us to carry on. The gig is up, but the show must go on.

Today the sun came out, but the box is still sealed close.

Today thousands died and I hardly batted an eye.

Today I felt the weight of totalitarian rule and sealed it in the envelope where I keep all the others.

Keep calm they say as the news circulates unending devastation.

Lock yourselves up because this is your final destination.

Suburban Smokes

I smoke my cigarette in solitude in the cold. My tennis shoes half slipped on, uncomfortable on my heels which haven’t slipped into their correct position. Security cameras loom at every corner of the house unable to find a corner of peace and quiet. Neighbors still stroll the cul-de-sac into the evening and glare with judging eyes as I taint their suburban dreams with my unclean habit. How dare I shatter the reality they’ve worked so hard to seclude themselves in!

I suck down my smoke, unsettled by my surroundings – a cage which should offer solace instead is boxing me in. Goose bumps coat my arms from the chill of the night, I close up the house behind me, locking up from the things they fear which may be looming. How unlikely anything unsatisfactory would intrude. A pseudo protection for peace of mind from the walls which were so intently built. Control the ultimate goal.

The cat greets me at the door. Weaving through my legs to coerce affection. I pause to offer it, feeling empty yet willing to abide by his demand. I return to my stool at the counter, isolated and surrounded, a quite discomforting combination. I notice my desire to enjoy company is easily contorted into an insatiable need to be alone.

My journal entry glares at me on the sheet of printer paper beneath my arms, a half truth edging its way to awareness in whichever form it can overtake. My dissatisfaction glaring at me, posing a challenge. Two sides of myself again at dichotomy with each other, unable to live in harmony. I am again interrupted with movement from the house. Solitude a quite unlikely phenomenon for long.

I draw the corners of my lips into a contorted smile as I succumb to participate. My role unfolding abruptly, I feel inclined to obey.


I’ve been staring at the ceiling and scratching my head. Weighing options of whose number to dial…who I can I lean on that won’t make me feel so spent? I scroll through old conversations, picking out the ones which may be self serving in my current condition.

Repeatedly, each person I linger on falls short even in my imagination. Worse even, the conversations which upheave too much. The rawness of my thoughts sticking in my own throat as I try to digest them. I lie (e)motionless on my back.

Memories populate stirring the pot. An internal debate festers at the surface forcing my mind into blankness in order to recalibrate. I’ve been here so many times before, immediately shutting out and shutting down. No matter how many ways I shape it, I draw the same conclusions. Each time I find myself here I wonder does it ever shift internally? Am I moving the needle or will I always have to step back from the ledge?

I forget to breathe and get distracted. Tangents curve the tracks for my train of thought. My body manifesting a physical reaction to such weakness, heightening some senses by removing others. The darkness and the light inside of me doing their best to dance together, but snuffing each other out.

I realize nothing has changed around me as I drown in my own thoughts. Chaos I’m creating within as the rest of my environment stays quite the same. I question if the problem is that I watch my thoughts too closely, or that I forget to watch them all together.

Flu Season

It Christmas Eve and I’m laying in bed with Matthew and haven’t heard a word from anyone in the family (other than grandma and grandpa) for weeks. I’m a force fit into a kind group of people who empathize with the reality I’m facing. Basically, I’m a stray dog who found a bed to sleep in. 

I think back to all of the holidays over my lifetime that I’ve been separated from my family. Ever since I was a teenager I’ve been gleefully smiling and buying gifts for people who aren’t my kin. Sharing cheap jokes at other people’s holiday tables while a part of me stays locked up, distant and removed. It seems I’ve always been willing to take the route of escape.
I tell myself I’m not letting my pride get the best of me with this current standoff. An icy battle between mom and I, both too stubborn and hard shelled to soften – even for a heart to heart. I just can’t bring myself to offer any gestures of reconciliation towards her. My disappointment in her detachment from reality too severe to waive the white flag. Every time I relive that night, the darkness overwhelms me. When I think about the sparse conversation we had following the event, I feel my vision darken and my lips purse. A bitter venom seep into my veins coercing a poisonous storyline to unravel.
Sometimes, when I settle into the reality, it is such an overwhelming sadness that I have to turn completely off. The immense instability which has stemmed from the abuse removing every positive cell in my body like a cancer. Even as I write it out, think about it, talk about it – I feel like some sort of self pitying martyr. It’s another punishment in itself. 

I turn inward and ask myself how I can begin to heal. I’ve become an expert at shutting emotions off to maintain a functional life, something I’ve picked up from mother without a doubt. My passion to be warmer towards myself and others pushes me to share my feelings, but listening ears tend to turn away once they’ve expressed their moment of sympathy.

I’m stuck in this dark room by myself. A fortress of anxiety at every corner and I’m too paralyzed with sadness to find my way to the exit. Time heals all wounds, but it seems to me that beneath the healed skin, their infection continues to fester.

Sweet Nostalgia

A harder time, but an easier mind.

Chasing an unreal dream, silky and divine.

Relentless pursuit –

Forever chasing a greedily dripping forbidden fruit.

Who is she? Who am I? And what do I do with you?

Drinking wine like water, in the name of our father

I’ll sink this ship before you know it baby,

Drowning in a blur of color.

Caught in the undertow, unforgiving in its nature I tumble and sink

Praying for the last breath to take me in it’s keep.

Instead my eyes roll back, settling in the back of my skull

My expression mundane, melancholy and dull.

Only a fool will fall, into this menacingly dark hole.

Bleeding Hearts

Time bends and twists blurring the lines of reality and dreams. The violence, the vibrancy, the visceral explosion like a stormy tide. Your tenderness my only solace, a bright light at the end of a thin line.

How is it that I again find myself lost? Please stay by my side until my mind returns. The darkness that comes for me, it never stops to burn.

Task after task I bury it deep. My thoughts stall like an engine, going nowhere fast no matter how many times you turn the key.

When I’m with you it’s the only time I can see me. How can you bear that burden? A cloak of shame I hide behind pretty little things.

My bleeding heart drags, daggers that dig at you as hard as they dig at me. I’ll try my best not to hide when they dig in two times too deep.

Loving me is no easy feat. Please keep my tender soul under your safe keep.