Quiet peaceful ambiance

Taking it all in, passive smiles directed at me

“What can I get for you out of the case?”

I realize it’s my turn to speak.

Immersed in textual salvation

I fail to recognize the elevation

Of noises as chaos enters to distract me.

Ignoring all the noise and eyes

I continue to dive

Tearing up

Looking up to avoid the inevitable

Taking deep breaths and stretch to keep the flow going

Rageful spirit being summoned through

Each word that my eyes pass through

Thinking about my life and future

Telling my whole life in words—


Broken and incomplete salvation

Both free and bound

By the privileges that bind

Growth and silence most profound.

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Breaking, shrinking, shriveled mess

picking up the remnants of the ‘truly blessed’

Thinking one day I’ll get through it

if I’m open and endure it

But then it just kept feeding

ravishing my nutrients, ripping at my core

suckling from my clitoris and feeding me with lore

Those thoughts making me feel like I could do this

I can toughen up and move right through this

Just had to ignore mirrors


loved ones

and then I was alone

everyday alone with my thoughts living in my own squander

wishing that I could just get away and wander

Into the killing field of the past

where hindsight makes me free at last

starving myself to feed my future

dying under bourbon-fueled nights without food

but I wandered

into those vacant spots in my mind where hope used to be

when all it took was my bootstraps and the drive to succeed

Now sitting at my desk I’m starting to see

the me that I want to be

Though I’m constantly terrified that the me that I see

is not.

-Written by me on 11.2.18

Until next time,


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The Summoning

The Summoning.

She cried out, “BB! BB! My anxiety is KILLING me!”

realizing the only one in that bed was she.

In fact she couldn’t grasp the reality that she was actually alone now

her words echoing against the walls,

between the sheets,

and from now on she would vow

to never forget how it felt in that moment

yearning for comfort and receiving none.




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How much TV in the background does it take

to quiet those beasts that inequity make?

Everyday I try and grind

out as many applications for work

but I find

that with each rejection and every month that goes by

It’s getting tougher to find the strength to still rise.


I rise to the occasion time and time again

Put myself on the line

just to be told to try again.

Best of luck in all your future endeavors

in reality my future is at constant risk

and so I better

get back on that grind again and wish

that one day before I become homeless

that someone is willing to take that risk.



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To My Father,




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don’t I have a resolve?


everytime I try nothing is solved?


everytime I try to make a way

out of no

nothing but grief they make me stray?


I gotta make a way

outta no

presuming I get away

outta no



the life force drain from me


I just wanna BE free?




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Thought Exercise #01980839

This post is going to be a little different from the ones I’ve been posting lately. This is a bit of a thought exercise for me. This is also my chance to clear my mind and connect with you on a deeper level. Ready?


Anxious: I wake up most days in a sweat. Whether it was from a particularly unsettling dream or because of my precarious life, who knows. About once every few hours I worry about money–where I’m getting it, how much my loans are and my impending payments, wondering when my future employer will call me in for an interview, and how to pay for the miscellaneous stuff. When I’m not ruminating on that, I’m worrying about my saint of a partner. If it was not for them, I would most certainly be homeless/couch-surfing. I know all this financial woe is really heavy. My inability to use my undergraduate and graduate degrees to attain full-time employment is only nursing that crushing feeling my partner has to deal with daily. Then I think about my 20 year old car that is hanging by a thread. My phone that is steadily on the brink of  ‘no service’. My everyday shoes that have been worn nearly through the sole. All day my mind fluctuates from one constant worry to the next. However, if you saw me you wouldn’t have any idea.

Depressed: Upon waking I get up, use the bathroom, and then get back in bed. My partner works out of town weekly, so I stay home alone and tend to my cats. My day consists of distracting myself with reality television and tv court shows while avoiding checking my email for employment rejections. I sit with my cats and talk with them since I’m sure they know how depressed I am. I look at my sneakers and think about the me I used to be. How lacing those bad boys up and running somehow helped me thrive. Back to bed. After napping for hours, my stomach wakes me with an alert that I need to eat. I go into the pantry, get my can of soup, heat it, then eat it in bed. I can’t be bothered to shower until my partner is expected to return home. I live behind my phone screen.

Stressed: I live in an apartment where the people below me are so loud they might as well live above me. They just got a new puppy, but don’t seem to be giving it as much attention as a puppy needs. So in the background of my day-to-day is a sad sounding puppy that I just want to love on. Also, I am applying to other graduate school programs since the degrees I have aren’t helping me find work and it’s a dream to ultimately become a PhD. With deadlines approaching it is increasingly stressful to look at my writing sample, work on my CV for those who are writing my recommendations, and not to mention my statement of purpose–because I’m still working on securing employment. On top of everything, no matter how much I study, my standardized test scores really just make it harder for me. I am also isolated in the town I live in because of lack of access to income and creativity. When I see my friends getting work, I begin to feel like it must be me.

Motivated: So then I write. I come here and make myself write a poem. I write about what has been on my mind, what has happened in my life, or in reaction to this messed up society. It’s been so hard to do so lately, especially with the chaos and corruption within our governing structures and also in the day-to-day. I made myself write today because I needed to. I have a voice and have been told it is important to use it. I mean, you never know, this might resonate with someone reading–which will make all of this typing more worth it. I’m used to being vulnerable in my poetry and academic prose, so it is quite different doing this thought exercise here and now. I mean, I have a journal.



I love the writing of Bukowski. Found this from internet search.

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