the sun is awake! curtains pulled to a shallow sea the waves begin to stir with a restless ache the sun has stolen me, how to make them understand that i am fear’s permanent reside words are not thoughts nor thoughts words; fragments and slivers the world is in motion, in tune with the sea,Continue reading “melancholy”

my old friend, Otis

If there was a better way to go then it would find me I can’t help it, the road just rolls out behind me Be kind to me, or treat me mean I’ll make the most of it, I’m an extraordinary machine. Fiona Apple Otis was not originally called Otis. Otis needed a new name.Continue reading “my old friend, Otis”

what it be

what it be let it be let what should be free, be freed within thee and what has to be, be by my own decree Just let what be and let others flee when it is time for them to flee (Let me flee, I must Flee) for I am free, to be me forContinue reading “what it be”

We had a fight

Weekends around here are always a gamble for my husband and I. The weeks end up draining everything from us due to both of our insanely stressful jobs and by the weekend, every ounce of energy is just gone. It’s always difficult trying to even have social lives when, by the weekend, we cannot evenContinue reading “We had a fight”

slow boats

that faithful cigarette burns a holein her side,displaced thoughts dancealong the cornersof her abandonedroom, asslow boats ripagainstthe high tidesof her troubled mind a selflesssuicide, (vacancy)plays a tunebehind those hostileeyes;her thin words etchedalong the dotted line who is she? (a ghost?)a piece of familiara shadow of yesterdaycreeping upfrom behind to pull youunder (the ocean’s deep)and theContinue reading “slow boats”

the woman in the woods

she hangs her roses deep in the middle of the woods a thick tree with a high branch, it groans under the weight she starts from the top and lets them swing down, low petals graze the mossy earth (her roses sway where her children can’t see from the bottom of the creek where sheContinue reading “the woman in the woods”


a childless mother of none a heathen, (To fail) her purpose redirected at the tender age of twenty two (a walking casket, the crowd throws flowers, and mourns, spitting sentiments of well wishes and good health. Rejoice!) open up the hollow points of her decaying Womb, (the space has been labeled an empty tomb) WastedContinue reading “maternity”


(bang!)   the echo stretches for miles   even the trees stop and turn   and all is still   one slip of a finger on the silver hammer cuts a clear path through the front wall and out the back   (enter through the side door, exit through the window)   and everything youContinue reading “intention(al)”