Boxes Undone

In the aftermath of the tippled boxes come undone; ribbons untied, and words scraped from corners of a pale skinned mind, unrefined; do I say I am sorry? When I was just a girl, in dresses printed in sunshine and sewn together with trust, I learned that words mean very little. Unless, they cause an … More Boxes Undone

Just Sad.

Intellectually – it’s easy to acknowledge that there are so many different types of people in this world, and that those different types are necessary to make it all work – all go around – all turn, so to speak. It takes the hard asses, and the soft gentle types to make the different things … More Just Sad.

I Hate.

I hate people. I really fucken hate them. If there is money to be made, it will be made. Even if it means children, women, poverty stricken families are bled that little bit extra. It will happen. Even if it means wiping out entire habitats and destroying animals. Force feeding animals. Not feeding them. …   … More I Hate.

Circus Bait

Tumbling down, fear wrapped in shrapnel, thick with a feeling of permanence. Sequined clowns point and mock in nightmares older than the circus, or any freak to take the stage. Lights sway, lingering just long enough on the twisted faces of sticky fingered children. Dolls, eating popcorn, mechanic jaws, and jerky hunger. Out of time. … More Circus Bait

You Thought…

You thought you would break me, amend me, and be needed by me. You thought I would beg. Mumble up offerings of adoration with shaking hands. I thought I would die, on your floor. I could not breathe in anymore. I thought you would show mercy, or some semblance of kindness. Or at least remorse. … More You Thought…

My Bone, My Grind.

When a mild difference of opinion with an old giant soul (and matriarch) of the family occurred, there was a weight attached to it that I found… unsettling. I come from a macho family. We are all opinionated, and we all speak our minds; which makes for spontaneous, fast spreading wild fire when the topic … More My Bone, My Grind.

Child’s Voice

When I was a young girl, I would wish I could be invisible, to the eyes that looked for me in the dark of night. My bed was not my imaginary princess castle; It was the  birth place for evil. A grown man’s twisted mind, my small body he did find. I was four. He … More Child’s Voice

Forget me not.

Turn me inside out, fill me with stones, and let me sink. deep into the dark murky below the tourists who sip on cocktails and apply sun cream. I can pretend I am a mermaid, and that you meant me no harm. I can replay the tune in my head that has been circling for … More Forget me not.

Let Go.

Remembering you, is like placing my lips on a heavy bottomed whiskey glass, filled with tiny sharp shards of a broken mirror and tilting it into my mouth. Slicing my tongue, the same tongue that licked the blood from your lips when you fell into my glass desk. Tearing at my throat, with a familiar … More Let Go.