Tie me to a post, and set me on fire. I am worn with being told I find it easy to walk away from people, places and things. I am heart sore that you know me so little to think that I do any leaving behind with flippant ease. It is not about you, as … More Self Preservation
Look at me, in a way that makes me feel like you have ripped out my secrets and stored the bloody pieces in your pockets, proudly and with the intention of making them yours too. Touch me, in a way that makes me lean in, with out thinking. That makes me inhale you, like a … More Don’t Fall
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
“All of the truly important battles are waged within the self. ” ― Sheldon B. Kopp, If You Meet the Buddha on the Road, Kill Him: The Pilgrimage Of Psychotherapy Patients I have been blessed with a wild mind. A brittle constitution, and an appetite for truth. Impatience is my virtue, and possibly the only … More By Virtue
Let us for argument sake say, that you would die today. Let us for argument sake say, That a video of your life would play. A blow by blow account of all that has taken place. What would be the expression on your newly dead face? Would you weep and beg to go back? Would … More Death’s Video Footage
It is more convoluted, than just a throbbing demand for blood. It is more labyrinthine than simply knowing that I will stand, bloody faced and victorious, heart pounding against my rib cage. A reminder that the trophy blood that drips from my hands, is not mine. It belongs to one of the demons that has … More Chasing Demons
If I leant back in this hard wooden chair, and willingly placed my wrists on the arms, and let you cable tie my hands to it’s frame; would you? Would you follow through? Would you help me forget? Would you whisper your apologies in between each blow, each cut, each laceration of my skin? Or … More Would You?
I was not made for war Or shown how to keep count. Those skills came, with the change of each season. The absence of reason. Tearing out the hearts of the pale skinned innocents, like a blood sport, redefined by those who had defeated me before. Those who still have the blood of my fleshy … More I got soul but I’m not a soldier…
There are seconds, sometimes long hours, where my head feels heavy. Heavy with a weighted accumulation of thoughts. Some unimportant, and some important enough to be worth avoiding. But to turn my back on one, means to stare at another, and the pressure is not unlike that of a boiling kettle. Steam burns brand those … More I’m Fine.
I mapped your face, like the Egyptians mapped the stars. I knew every part of your face, your mouth and your hands. Your legs. In my bed. Spread. I made you read to me, just for the sound of your voice. I needed you, like a traveler needs a compass. Like a nomad needs water. … More Mocking Bird DOWN
writing as a way of life
My ramblings poems and musings enjoy or not no pressure
The varied thoughts of a millennial modern linguist.
Talking about real things
Poetry and Poems
All that is me!
CRIME WRITER
Fabulously Refined/Wildy Inappropriate
I Kill My Own Spiders
character limited descriptions kind of give me anxiety
A few new poems every week. Haikus on Sundays.
Mocking Bird Down 