Posted: June 19, 2018 in writing

I will never understand why

The place white boys retreat to

To build themselves

Is devoid of compassion

And littered with greed.


I’m an asshole.

Posted: May 13, 2018 in Uncategorized

Why did it take me

One hour and two minutes

To say “Love you” back?

The sexually and emotionally abusive older man who took every first I had and then threw me away in a text message once he figured out he couldn’t mold me into what he wanted.

The accountant/drug dealer who kissed another girl at a party and then dumped me after I didn’t get mad about it because at least he told me.

The Italian mama’s boy who had his friends harass me so hard after we split that I had to change my number. To be fair, he did try to make amends.

The younger guy I dumped so that he would go to college instead because he was too smart to turn down a full scholarship in order to be closer to me. He flunked out. Does drugs now, apparently.

The bipolar New Jersey (but claimed New York) trust fund alcoholic who needed to tear me down in order to feel better about himself, wouldn’t call me his girlfriend until after we broke up and who hit me.

The scene kid turned redneck videogame-obsessed manchild who treated me like a prize that he won and then left on the mantle to collect dust and take care of all of our pets single-handedly while I worked longer hours for less money than he did.

The guy where the timing never worked out and we just periodically break each other’s hearts by getting our hopes up that it could ever work out. He was unemployed and we thought he was going to jail when we were together but that didn’t bother me at all.

Honorable mentions:

The guy who built up my self-esteem enough that I refused to take my first ex back after he dumped me in a text. He took me out for a Valentine’s weekend, never went beyond kissing me and then rejected me when I asked if he wanted to be a couple. He’s now happily married and published and a valuable friend.

My old lover who was so good to me emotionally and did the right thing by rejecting me because we were fatally incompatible. He’s now married to someone who may not be as good to him as he hopes. But he is a father and happy with that, which I never could have given him.

The rehab guy who wooed me over a summer he spent in my town, whose rehab house referred to me as his girlfriend and who turned out to be using me to cheat on his girlfriend back home the entire time.

Press Play

Posted: April 13, 2018 in Uncategorized

Things I taste melt into my bones;

The bitter, the heat. And acrid.

And my heart is in and out of halfway houses

Doomed situations

Room invitations

Stacked debt-ceiling tall

Anything for a reminder.

To be loved.

To be goddess.


Hot mess.

A box of 8-tracks that all fall silent in the middle and never recover.

I’ve got a thing for being unwanted.

It makes me hope.

Love is rarely being together;

It is more often helping a wound along,

Swinging wide the trap doors we make,

The failsafes,

The give and take is all to keep warm somewhere only secrets reach.

Love is growing apart and letting go.

Until maybe it’s not.

Posted: January 1, 2018 in Uncategorized

It’s so bad when you find it was all just in your head

And between the sheets on his bed.


Posted: December 1, 2017 in Uncategorized

Other people’s wishes 


Old desires in me. 

Before I knew better.

Before I grew the hell up. 

Before I had every bit of softness in my ribcage poured full of concrete and

I like to bury the lessons I’ve learned

Under “what ifs” and “maybes”.

I’m just stubborn like that. 

Still willful to my rotten core.

There’s that fighting spirit;

The fire. 
But I never stopped to think that I was feeding it with what little humanity I had left. 

Four Letters

Posted: November 29, 2017 in Uncategorized

There’s this thing about hope that I rather dislike: it leaves a great mess in the wake of its demise. If it went way quietly, all would be easier. 

Posted: November 2, 2017 in Uncategorized

When you’re near, my heart changes shape and function completely.

Just a constant thrumming like the wings of a hummingbird,

My thoughts aren’t any different, but my filter has become a screen door, halfway off its hinges, which squeaks open and slams shut with the passing hours.

Everything in my life is uncertain.

I feel like I’m always stuffing my panic in a too-small box marked “to deal with later”.

I feel like changing my lifestyle to pursue a new one is changing who I am.

I feel like water in a washing machine during a spin dry.

I feel like I’ve got four flat tires, a hemmhoraging radiator and oil leaks constantly running down my cheeks.

I feel like a brand new spark plug when you are near.

When you’re near, I am perfectly tightened hose clamps and buttercup yellow koni shocks right out of the box.

And a full roll cage.

Posted: September 1, 2017 in Uncategorized

I’m one hell of a woman when I love someone. 

Rarely otherwise.

Atriums and Arteries

Posted: August 27, 2017 in Uncategorized

You can’t fit a square peg in a round space

      unless you make it much smaller

Or round out those corners. 

But I have edges.

They demand to be heeded,

Accounted for, accommodated, accepted. 

I’ve been playdough in a keyhole too many times,

But now I am shaped and hardened;

Not unwilling to soften,

But picky about what I will contour to fit. 
I remember, I think I knew it wouldn’t last that time you spilled your pipe tobacco in your pants pocket; so absent, your mind. 

I think I knew when I saw you in that room seven, eight? Years ago. The weight of it; the sudden squeeze in my lungs. I knew you were important.

Just not that you would be the first in a long line of those I refused, finally refused to break for.