l/r
Grab A Bowl
I'm working on some new pieces 🙂 Stay Tuned !
There were riots within us, the kind that went on all night; By dawn we were turbulent and there was no love.
817 I was a riot girl who fell for a peaceful boy. I fought for the sake of fighting In a crowd of small people Wanting to overthrow a big man. I had relationships, And sex, With angry people, passionate about a cause I cared nothing about. I was a succubus for passion and purpose.... Continue Reading →
Ghosts
Is it possible for a dead person Who is alive, To be a ghost? Because sometimes I see you, Dark haired and laughing near a train, And you vanish into a stranger Going Northbound. Daddy is that you? Sitting on my bed And tipping over paint cans And opening closed doors, And leaving me coins... Continue Reading →
Dreams
I never used to remember what happened in my dreams, Or dwell on them when I awoke. But lately, the images within them have become More vivid and disturbing Than ever before. Suddenly, I am back in relationships with bad boyfriends Who I've forgotten both love me and hate me. I even fall for their... Continue Reading →
Perhaps
I can't deny there is an empty feeling now within me. Perhaps it has to do with growing older and finding myself but I seriously feel like connecting with people on a deeper level is difficult for me. I've weighed the possibilities that perhaps my friends are not right for me or perhaps I am... Continue Reading →
Never compare your chapter one to someone’s chapter twenty.
Because let's be realistic, your environment will never be exactly like there's and your results will never be the same. Comparison only devalues individuality.
End of the Month: An excerpt from Porridge: A Memoir
"I'd be good to you," he says to me over bites of sushi and spilled soy sauce. "I'm good to me," I tell him and stare down at my roll. I hopped off a bus less than an hour ago to visit a city I had once been so connected to. The boy I am... Continue Reading →
Grab a Bowl
I visited my hometown yesterday: My hands became cold as I climbed off the bus. This place never gave me any comfort, just anxiety. l/r
Bad Poetry
Bad Poetry is a term I use to refer to a series of tragic, ironic and consistent events that occur within a character's life, without conscious reason, but simply for the pleasure and entertainment of the Gods. It can be found on that particular morning when your alarm clock fails to go off, where you miss... Continue Reading →
Famous Last Words 