poetry
October 2017
Ain't I worth it (published)
You push me down, skin touching skin hands on my mouth weight weighing down so much I feel I am plummeting.
But this is not love, love was an old couple I saw once hold hands and speak of beautiful memories they still make every day.
Instead of contemplating jumping in front of a train just to remove thoughts from that one night;
couldn’t forget.
But Ain’t I worth the time
Seeking help
the words repeat “please leave a message after the beep “
Sounding discrete.
But I guess there was no need to discuss how I was feeling that day to a stranger I began to see once a week.
Ain’t I healthy
when words begin to spiral in my head to perform what is known as overthinking,
light pinching, heavy hands gripping, and my fingers rubbing my knees to bury the sting.
Those damn memories
Constant cries little lie everyone was listening.
And the phone rings and there is no sorry we missed you please leave a message after the beep.
It is a friend
Who wanted to understand why I wasn’t smiling that day.
And my voice seemed so sickening
while the words removed from my mouth
I say
I am worth it
August 2019
youth vs. America (not published)
There are many things to say about white picket fences. Where suburban walls conceal controversial talks of old lovers, now sitting silently against the pull between loathing and endearment. A place was young girls clinch their wrists in the sight of pain, sickening sounds of slight mundane
Those you knew in school that held grudges so tight there thoughts remained persistent, discouraged and hostile
There are many things to say about white picket fences
The moment they notice little words distributed across campus,
Children scream, agony in
And you tell me we are not listening
To hear the news of
32 dead in Virginia Tech
February 14th, 2018
Young man shooting 17
A cluster of friends crying
because everyone was dying
I can not understand
I tell you this was not an intended dream
There are many things to say about white picket fences when that young boy decides there was no longer a need for submission
We embark in categorical ties with those who truly believe in gun rights
Lost in the words we find hidden beneath our feet just waiting to make its way out
Out
Where the call to safety was brought up like a slight whisper
Out
And here
Where we see that young boy with a gun on Sherry's head
May 2013
My love you are free (published)
The unsettling cries come from my loves weary eye. Though after every constant saying played a greater showing of injury upon her frail skin, upon her voice, upon her expression. Though she begins to hide the excruciating scarring by accompanying it with a bitter smile. "Pain is the only essence," my love repeats once more. Though everyone begins to notice her slowly waste away. As if nothing was wrong, she begins to ignore her own cries for help. "Pain is the only essence," she now constantly repeated in her mind. "My love, you are strong," I tell her daily. Though her ignoring sends chills down my spine. As her constant cutting increases every day. "My love, you are adored" though I just heard about her suicide, she believed it would end all pain she believed that no one would care. But all I do is whisper over her tainted grave
"My love, you were strong"
"My love, you were lost"
"My love, you are free"
September 2012
A Penniless Soul In Need (published)
Here I am, lying in the unwanted sea. Thinking of how it could be, while these dark clouds stand over me. Hoping life will get better. What a penniless soul to be, Baring my thoughts in a book, a book that will lead me to wonder of who I may be a penniless soul in need.