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

Sibling Bonds

One of my three brothers knows I love poetry – and because we had been struggling to communicate with out fighting – write this for me. I still cry every time I read it. It demonstrates his effort to talk to me in a language he believes I understand, and it was his way of … More Sibling Bonds

I’m Fine.

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.

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.

Lesson Learned.

If I could peel back the skin and crack open your ribs, snap them clean off, like the brittle bones of a long dead carcass.. What would I find, behind the flesh that spared you transparency? A heart? Or a blackened and charred lump that’s smell would confirm the image your eyes gave away? The … More Lesson Learned.

Oh.

Oh. Push me off the curb. Into the cars. Look me in the eye, pretend to cry, and then walk away. Oh. Let go of my hand, I need it to hold on to the words I fell for. The ones that fell from your lips while you lied. Oh. Undo the motion sickness that … More Oh.

Crazy Talk

There are days, like today – where I run through that phrase ‘People who are really crazy don’t know they are crazy’ in my mind, and I think of all the times I have been called mad, or that I have wondered if I am. It is a serious ‘point’ of thought for me because … More Crazy Talk

Break

Star gazer Bully hazer Spirit talker Coal walker Soul of black Sold on crack Bright red bleeder Wound healer Barely out-running Those are are gunning for this life. Of mine. Demons glowing Behind eyes, knowing how to rig the game of truth vs pain. Bending time Falling in line with the bellows of the fallen … More Break

Group Torture

When I was in rehab, I detested group therapy. Partly because I have never been good at listening to other people talk about pain when it is so ‘obvious’ what that person could or should have done – and then those that simply like the attention so the waterworks come on instantly…  and also because … More Group Torture