I’ve struggled hard to have the nothing that I have right now;

pushed past my limits, taken bullets to the chest. Somehow

I’m still breathing on my own; can’t take it easy now,

because as soon as I let up, straight down I’ll start to plow.

Often, I binge on wind and water to adjust my fate;

trick my body and my mind to think it’s not too late;

go hungry evening after evening, but my kids, they ate;

tuck them in, then eat the leftovers right off of their plate.

Someone called me lucky once, something about I’m still young;

to just “hold on”, that I’d “pull through if I would just keep strong.”

Rolled off his lips like he was singing lyrics from a song.

He’d never seen a struggle, didn’t know that broke lasts long.

Working after hour after hour, less than minimum wage;

check-to-check living, trapped in a social economical cage;

stifled rants and petty names brewing a terrible rage

spawned anxious habits, made it difficult for me to engage;

but I stayed silent, lost my voice to let the bigger ups win.

I trail a path where high hopes flare and then depress me again.

I still won’t quit, despite the battle, I’ll give my hundred and ten.

When empty handed, I’ll complain about it all with my pen.




Crystallizing Moments:  i.

My personal project to help my writer’s block. I will be writing and posting a series of snippets or “scenes” throughout the week in the form of paragraphs  or poetry (maybe a couple drawings) to help fuel my literary flow. I hope you find as much pleasure in reading them as I do writing them.

And he said,

“I hate him like a brother. Like- he is annoying as hell and sometimes I want to punch him, but at the end of the day, I’d walk through fire for him.”

His eyes stared at the red hot moon lounging in the sky, another day closing to its end.

Without Walls

In the pit of my stomach
I feel it rise
As the truth is never easily swallowed
The bile spills out
Tormenting lies of time and company
A stinging blow to the core
Though this news isn’t new
Rather desperately denied
As naivety prompts easier living
A heart merely held together by bandages and a thread of hope
that this will be the last time I get hurt
When my walls come down


In All Honesty

I’d rather live in a treehouse.


Note To Self

Dearest Me,
Do not to forget who we used to be,
The one who’d pick up all the pieces of our torn mentality
Remember when our heart was split;
Lungs tight, we couldn’t even breathe
The feeling was so damn near fatal,
it was a struggle just to see,
because our eyes would burn and tingle
from the nights we’d spend awake
Crying & swearing that we never let
another close enough to break
us down like that, and forget not
the misconception of our lies
The battle between heart and mind and seldom what’s between our thighs
Beneath out skin is where we’d hide,
Yet visible for all to see,
but not available for help
The only one for us,
is Me.


Hard Day’s Work

Hands & feet
Lingering ache from prominent use
Cracked skin
Blood dried, stained
Long hours paved in caffeine
Heavy eyes
Bones stiff
Hunger bellows from within
Wearied lungs
Muscle strained
One day done, new one begins


Poetic Bust

A sprinkle of poems I’ve rendered incomplete & mostly horrible, but by no means a secret. What fun is it to put out only my best work? Enjoy…or not 🙂

I’m as fluid as the lies I tell
Its water under the bridge
At least for me it is

I’ll whisper those clichéd sweet nothings
Melt your heart and dry your tears
Steal away your deepest pains
Replace them with your greatest fear
Con you into real emotion
Sew your heart upon your sleeve
Ensure you of my devotion
To see that you’ll never leave

3]. Bon Appetit
Cut throat agony
Watching from the corner
Your beady eye scanning the room
Anticipating a rival
Yet you notice not the rival in me until we meet in the middle
A dare to make the first move threatened mutually
Quick, a swift slip to the hip
my fork drawn barely seconds before your own
You walked away, defeated, ogling the chocolate delicacy being shoveled between my lips
Bon appetit

Where do I start if not from where I left
As the habit of completion feeds my motives to push on
I learned from movies that quitters make it as far as the length of the nails
As a lack of effort destines failure
So here I find myself again
Back where I’ve started once before
But a newly done manicure ensures I’m in it for the long haul

5]. Easy Lies
Have you a second, kind Sir
To spare for a poor gent as I
Pockets empty, feet bare
But a bold mind makes me rich
I couldn’t help but notice a smudge showing on your watch
I happen to know exactly how to rid you of such an eyesore
Oh, don’t you worry Sir
I’ll have it back to you this time tomorrow