The word recovery has always frightened me when it came to my own mental health. How do I recover from something that is with me for the rest of my life? When I was first made aware that I had a mental illness at 17 years old, I spent the entire next 365 days in […]Read More Self-Care and the Art of Blending In
I am not afraid of my naked vulnerabilities or society’s foolish expectations or the ridicule in their eyes or the tears in my own as I pour myself out into your hands and listen to your beautiful mouth speak because my love has no fear and I want to savor and experience everything about you […]Read More My Love Has No Fear
I just learned I have a reputation as a recluse – a reputation I hate. It’s true, I’m easily intimidated by colleagues and acquaintances who are younger, stronger, braver, more outgoing, better educated and better looking than me. When I feel demoralized – whether it’s real or imagined – I often take refuge in my […]Read More Am I a Stuck Up Little Bitch?
Those three words Are an insurrection and a Judgment upon their hypocrisy Syllables and sounds of A personal revolution That I once thought You could say too often But now know When looking at you That I can’t say enough Because in your eyes They become Life’s only best hope The breath of the sun […]Read More Those Three Words
This isn’t a poem or a blog post. This isn’t a satirical article or a cry for help. It’s just a simple question. “What will be the price you pay for complacency? To what end will you run me rampant and into the ground, head first kicking and screaming? How far will you stretch yourself […]Read More Fake It Until You Kill Yourself
For CG The boys were in the backseat asleep with the youngest sandwiched between his two brothers, and he rested his head on the oldest brother’s shoulder. The steady highway motion on the Merritt and Hutchinson Parkways caused them to drift away. It was an image their mother will not forget during the ups and […]Read More Old Timers’ Day – 2005
Here I stand And there you sit Coiled in your karma wheelchair Mired in the dysfunctional Muck of your life The hissing motor Convulsing like you used to With your cursing forked tongue Licking the air wondering how and why I am still breathing In the aftermath of your molesting bites Spitting out the venom […]Read More Here I Stand
I want tears I want pain I want grief I want shame My hands char from a gentle touch, so effortlessly. Spite me, Condemn me Damage me. Spew your madness upon me. I am not the demon you face. My eyes burn from the black darkness, so easily. Pierce me, Convict me, Impale me. Nurse […]Read More I Want Tears