YOU CANNOT KILL ME as fast as I can


I am my own worst sabotage. I put myself in the corner and am surprised when I run into walls. I throw myself off bridges and the shock of it all hits me after the water does. I pull at my own skin and am surprised to be unraveling. You cannot kill me as fast as I can.


You cannot hit me before I feel the knife to the heart that is waking up and realizing I do not have quite enough love left to give without splitting apart- or worse, I have too much. I think I have too much love to feel right. I feel wrong for breathing out all this love. I exhale it like carbon, I can’t see you for all the smoke that’s in my eyes. I have so much skin touching the air that I feel it like needles. I fall asleep thinking, what’s the difference between gas and solid anyway?


There are all these snippets I carry with me and I’m not sure which ones are real or not. To rearrange them I get wine drunk and fall in love with strangers I think I know but never myself. I tell everyone they’re beautiful in my head, I may be wrong, I may be going against all the rules of social interaction by staring too long at places I shouldn’t and not saying anything, but I do know you have to learn the rules to break them.


You cannot split me apart because I never learn the rules. Clumsy but still I sidestep them, an inconvenient thunderstorm. I want to overdose on the different but I do not need to anymore, I don’t want any more of these midnights. It feels like midnight even when it isn’t. It feels like lying even when it is. It feels like the mud pouring into me that I am coaxing with both hands. And sometimes being human, poison doesn’t seem like the worst way to go.


I never learn the rules. I learn them like my sharp heart, taking pinpricks of everyone’s ink, burnt coffee smiles and dirty compliments, I am there but we are apart and together, memories splitting the silly little happenings from the way I am writing rewriting editing it, they must be so different and I still know you cannot kill me.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 10/31/22

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you are easy.

we are easy.


it’s the mess in me

that makes me messy.


it’s the chasm in me

that leaves me stranded.


the world is there

if I just don’t get burned.


there is too much excess here

not enough growth

not enough real.

I float through the days

not counting the times I use my voice.


I spend all my change

on the edges

and don’t look at the picture

don’t learn the life.


I run but I’m too careful of

the ground.


I wish I could

sprint without looking.

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 8/2/22

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wait for every sunrise,


how has this not already been named




jump start

when your shadow flirts with my skin



spend too much time

drowning in my own head

so saltwater kisses

feel like liberation



call risks the worst option

as if I don’t take them every step anyway


and yes I am supposed to be your wings

but I have never been cleared for takeoff

and yes I am supposed to be your savior

but I can’t get off the ground



abandon ship

at a glimpse of sunset



hold your hand through

the whole world

we dance in

every biome

every skipped rock

worrying about how my skin feels

and forget to take

all the pictures



don’t want to call this

a swan song

but I keep hearing

the damn birdcalls



make a patchwork out of all the what ifs and if onlys and could have beens

and throw it over us and maybe


I bet

then we will be enough

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 11/30/21

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Fight Song

The hate, hate, hate

Is here to fucking stay

You're irate, irate, irate

It's time to fucking fight


Bring the fists

Leave the guns

Let's end this like men

Run full force into the gates of hell

Bring them down

To their knees

They will pay with blood


The hate, hate, hate

Is here to fucking stay

You're irate, irate, irate

It's time to fucking fight



They can beat us down

But not take our pride

We will rise again, again, again


Let the anger take hold

Bring out your demons

Bring out the pain

This world will know true justice

When they hear my name



The hate, hate, hate

Is here to fucking stay

You're irate, irate, irate

It's time to fucking fight

We beg them to stop

They laugh in our face

You wont feel the same

When you're in my place


They beg for mercy

It's one on one

Every man for himself

But we all stand together

You will fall to pieces




The hate, hate, hate

Is here to fucking stay

You're irate, irate, irate

It's time to fucking fight



Author's Notes/Comments: 

There is anger in all of us, use it not against your enemies, but for them. I will never let anyone face a fight alone, no matter what kind of fight it is.


You must fight back.

It Gets Better - January 27, 2021

Chapter Three

It Gets Better

January 27, 2021


Several years have passed, but it feels like only days.

Everything in my life is foggy, nothing has changed

since I was younger and had more time to write.

I've grown into an adult, but nothing is all right.


I've hoped for so long that I could find a place

where I can be myself and not have to chase

validation and acceptance for the thoughts in my mind.

I've searched, I have, but there is nothing in sight.


I have love all around me, with my family and friends.

They assure me I'm safe, they'll be there 'til the end.

I don't doubt that, but they seem to misunderstand

that these problems I have are out of my hands.


It's three in the morning, I'm working at eight.

If I go to sleep now, I'll still probably be late.

I'll get through the day, pay the bills, go to bed,

just to have this cycle repeat itself again.


When the night gets darker and my mind is awake,

there is nothing I can do but hope I don't think

about the forks in the road- which one I'll take.

I could visit the skies above or pretend I'm ok.


The medications, the drugs, and the alcohol

have never helped me feel better at all.

The only thing that's stopped me from leaving forever

is telling myself at night, "I promise, it gets better."


It helps for a moment, but soon my mind persists

that it isn't true- it doesn't get better than this.

I have tried to change all the errors of my ways,

but to no avail. This may be the last of my days.


To everyone who loved me, to everyone that cared,

I don't want you to think that any of you shared

a part in this self-destructive game of my life.

In the end, everything will be all right.


Nothing will change in the world outside my own.

Everyone else will have a place they call home.

My only hope is that by relieving my pressure,

maybe for the others, it actually does get better.

state of mind//world of body


and then there are the days

that are no more than impossible

they feel like something the world wrote down for me

as an outline or a moral

I should treat them as experiments-

if I can write this word I’ve made my own day

if I can make this doorway I’m coming home


wrestling with my mind as if

it is the one that belongs to me

I can almost hear the laughter

silly little girl

she thinks she knows what she’s doing

she thinks she knows who she is

and that autonomy isn’t a rope

I will rip out of her hands

as the seconds slip by

and she realizes how wrong this is going


I still miss you as much as I miss who I could have been

I know there has to be a state of mind


like when I stop moving and my body


a place I can’t feel this


there are the days

I have a mind that is taken over by these arms this heart this monster of a skin

sex with you is deliberate

a pattern we pick out

and is it too much to ask

to not want to know you’ll want me tomorrow

so it can come as a surprise

so something strikes deep in my chest

when you walk this way

and I don’t have to call it regret


I don’t think I know the way to make someone want

and I keep losing the way with you

leaving pebbles and pepper and heartache every place I think I should kiss

letting my eyes wander and losing my center of balance

I leave already in lust with you

I have all of the burning but none of the rules

no compass for this world of body


I want to be someone’s bright and someone’s story

I reach out to every hand and dust slips through my fingers

I don’t think I know the way to separate my mind from what holds it

to carry myself the right way and still carry these thoughts

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 6/26/21

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Scratch (January day 30)

when no one is here

all the words slip through the cracks inside me

gray matter turning toward the light


and you would think

I should love my brain for that

but there are too many unwelcome visitors

that have named it as their walls


you are still scratching me but you don’t have claws

I can feel the scars I don’t have yet

like they’re the only way I will survive


silver linings found on gold-plated lies

if this is the only thing I ever know

I will never wear that jewelry again


you said no strings attached?


now I am tied up and choking

Author's Notes/Comments: 

Written 1/30/21

silver linings found on gold-plated lies

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Urban Air



The urban air weighs heavy on my chest

like my hand when I try to press my anxieties back

into my sternum. Outside the blue jays call to each other

in a pitch that leaves my fingers pressing to my temples

as I try to stop the throbbing that pulses with every beat of my heart.

This used to come easy;

my fingers relishing in the tactile press of the keyboard

would lull me like a baby gently rocked in its father’s arms.

My father held me more than my mother —

or at least that’s what I remember.

Bipolar is genetic. Did you know that?

I am different than she is. A different type.

     More subdued.

          Second string.

If you stare through the screen your eyes will focus

on the squares caging you from the vines creeping up the window


          but it won’t save you

from the smell of the neighbors smoker

that makes you hunger for the food beyond the fence.

There the songbirds serenade each other

like the waves do to the sand. My ankles

ache for the steady rhythm of the water to soothe my heartbeat,

the salt air to expand my lungs,

the vastness of the Atlantic

to steal away the panic burrowed between my ribs.



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You Don't Know Me

You poor little porcupine.

It startled me that you jumped in front of a moving car.

I wish I could be there for you and help in any way I can.

But your quills pricked my heart when I gave you a hug.


I cannot pull them out or I would die.

So I had to tolerate this pain and let it suck the life out of me little by little

While I think back to when our affection for each other mended every obstacle we faced.


The future was bright for us.

You couldn’t stand by to let me sink

So you taught me to swim.

I wanted to return the favor badly.

But I didn’t know how I could, sadly.


The possibilities were endless when we spoke of our dreams.

You could picture yourself coming to my rescue and growing old with me.

You couldn’t wait to hear my voice as if your favorite show was about to air on TV.

You made every effort to show that you loved me

Even if I have nothing to give you in return except my own.


A year passed and the storm clouds were brewing.

The weather grew colder and attitudes turned sour.

I was working hard and I felt out of breath.

You were studying hard and you turned inflammable.


“Where was I when you needed me most?” you asked “calmly” one day.

“I’ve been fighting my own battles all this time.” I tell you. “Life hasn’t been kind to me lately.”

Please, please bear with me. I’m tired and I’m scared. I’m going to be left to my own devices.”

“You need to make more time for me.” You scream. “Anyone would have abandoned you ages ago”

“If you’ve been gone for as long as you did. Is several hours with me too much to ask?”

“Answer me, you ignorant, pathetic excuse of a child!!! Grow up!!!”

I couldn’t with you leeching off of my aura.

You made it seem like the world hates me now.

So I packed up my things, spread my wings, and flew off into the rain.

It doesn’t matter how badly you are suffering yourself

If the prospect that I need to take care of myself too slips your mind.


I never asked you to help me.

You did so at your own volition.

If you didn’t want to in the first place,

You could’ve answered, “No thank you.”

We could’ve gone on with our lives either way.


But here you are.

You called me immature.

You called me a teen in an adult’s body.

You said I never bothered to do my share.


But my dear porcupine, have you taken a look at yourself?

Or better yet, look in a mirror?

You don’t see the newfound greed in your heart, but I do.

The scholars in my inner circles do.


Whose leg are you trying to pull?

My loved ones know exactly what you said.

They know how selfish you’ve been acting and what I could’ve done.

If you think no one can love me the way you did, you could not be more wrong.


I can admit when I am anyway.

You went to town on me like I didn’t know how to count.

And my only response to your passionate rave was goodbye.

In the blink of an eye, you disappeared from my mind. Your quills in my heart decomposed.

It was like you were just another customer that treats cashiers like their punching bags.


I wish you the best of luck with your own hardships.

And I hope your own wounds heal entirely.

But I am done with you.

I am done letting your vitriol take up space.

I am done listening to you disguise your resentment as facts.

I am done hating myself for what our love has come to.

My love for you was just practice for the next person.

Nothing more, nothing less.


Demeter was wise to tell me to stop getting involved.

Because I discovered that what you don’t know

Was how amazing it felt to give you up and do her work

Without a care in the world. After all, you don’t know me.