2-0-2-0

As a girl I used 

to dream of being 

a princess locked in a tower 

yet when I was locked

away from the world 

hidden within four walls 

a single window covered in

black mesh to keep bugs from

coming in but also me 

from reaching out and 

touching the air 

wanting to sprout 

wings like a dove 

and soar away 

Sealed inside of the 

safety of stone 

and concret, ivy cascading 

down the walls 

I’m surrounded 

by a screaming silence 

afraid to breathe—

this polluted air 

with its deadly particles

I cover my face out of fear 

in hopes of recycling my

own breath to keep 

from being infected 

like termites, fear infests 

my mind telling me

to lock my doors 

devour the key 

abandon all ye who enter 

the gates of hell have 

been thrown open 

death walks freely 

in the daylight 

no one is safe no one is

spared—disaster swallows all

hope 

Behind plexiglass, standing 

six feet away I watch as once 

bustling streets transform to

stages for riots, bombs 

a place for brother to 

attack brother and 

sister to kill sister—

what was once natural 

and customary now is foreign 

and uncouth no longer 

do people hold hands, 

with finger entwined but 

pour boiling water on them

until their flesh is dry and raw 

unity has been stolen

replaced with division 

and hate 

what was once 

beautiful and joyful

is now desolate and barren 

as shops shut there doors

and restaurants are still 

lives filled with empty tables 

with untouched bread 

a ghost of the past

that haunt us 

birthday candles 

remain lit 

A collective longing 

threads us together 

keeps our blood pumping 

despite each loss 

each defeat 

every heartache 

I feel it deep in

the marrow of my bones 

and I will fight for it 

even if my contribution 

is feeble or in vain 

for time is my mistress 

though she has

placed me in 

chains, uprooted

stability, safety and

sanity 

she is blessing 

me with a new year 

and a chance 

for a new life 

Effects of Chronic Anxiety

Mildew yellow sores eat

Away at your soft pink flesh.

A bright red ring surrounds the wound.  

Target.

Warning.

Sin.

Blood. 

Stop. 

It smells like Freshman biology,

Dissecting frogs and pigs. 

Flormadhide. 

L’edu de mort, you wear it proudly.

Worms grow inside you,

Eating away at the fiber of you 

Very being.

Did you know that a tapeworm

Can be up to five feet long? 

Boots strike the pavement, 

Shrill laughter echoes from around

The corner. 

A lock clicks. 

White room,

White gown—a holy ceremony is about to occur.

Lips sewn shut, cracking, bleeding, 

Gasping as you pry your mouth open

Ripping the stitches to yell

OBJECTION. 

Shackled, the ring weighs 

Your finger down. 

You are one now. 

They will never be able to 

Separate him from you.

A pair of conjoined twins. 

Fucked you from the inside out. 

Violated you.

Broken into your mind, infected your thoughts.

Whispers you beautiful little lies. 

Like a possessive partner--keeps you all to themselves,

And threatens you with fear, loss, guilt, and shame 

When you try to leave. 

Lying flat on your back,

Pulse racing, breath quicking. 

Choking back tears,

You reach for the light--

While he yells at you 

It’s all your fault.

Unladylike

I used to 

wrap my entire 

mouth around 

the top of a plastic water bottle. 

carelessly slipping my tongue

 in and out

of the opening. 

I’d suck all the air out 

of the bottle 

until it 

would make that 

crinkling sound 

and shrivel up in my hand.

I used to sit 

with my legs 

stretched out 

unafraid to take up 

space 

My skirt would 

ride up my thighs

causing my pink 

unicorn underwear 

to be slightly visible

as I sat on the rough concrete

drawing with chalk. 

Now I sit in hard baked chairs

and wear tea length dresses

with stockings, 

ankles crossed--

trying to take up

the least

 amount 

of 

space

 possible

I cower when someone walks 

by and brushes up against 

my dry unshaved leg, 

apologizing profusely

that I wasn’t small 

enough for them.

I drink out of breakable 

china glasses now. 

made from porcelain 

or glass

lips tenderly

 kiss 

leaving behind traces

of deep red lipstick 

The cup is damp

Sweating, profusely as if

nervous to receive my caress

my pinky naturally 

lifts to avoid the wetness 

I’m praised

for drinking 

so ladylike

Lush red curls cascade

down her shoulders like

fire escaping a dragon’s mouth.

She has an elusive sophistication about

her and an unidentifiable seduction.

Her smile radiates with energy and light,

and her eyes are hidden by sunglasses

as large and dark as the moon.

When one glances at her the sense

mystery and power.

Her tongue is sharp as a sword

and drips with intellect, and wit—

the immaturity of those she’s slayed.

Is she an angle or a devil?

Why, my dear, that’s up for you to decide.

Equalized

We are formed through

a bond of love.

We enter the world naked,

fragile, helpless—yet pure and

innocent stone waiting to be

carved upon.

We lie on a covary belt,

products of a factory

and pieces of us are chipped

away and traded for

stability, stereotypes, silver—

creating segregation.

unrest

We must cut though

thick muscle and brittle bone,

exposing our crimson heart.

Throw the chisel

into the belly of the machine,

it’s sharp blade ripping through

the metallic insides.

Only then will our souls shackles

be released, will what has been

buried deep within us be freed—

it will engulf our entire bodies

we will be born anew.

Thick scars on our hands

and cheeks—reminders of

the past we will transform

the earth through two

souls

Intertwining, now one—

making new pure life

that will demolish hate

forged through love.

Screams of the Past

Do you hear the whispers, 

The screams of the past? 

Their fists pound against my 

Skull, rhythmically;

First softly then harder and harder. 

They moan, their chains ruffle 

As they throw their bodies against 

One another—weeping 

Their eyes overflow with tears. 

Oh Father, where art thou? 

Thousands of voices echoing,

Water dripping off stone. 

Gnawing at dry, cracked knuckles 

With teeth like arrows. 

Swallow. 

Pink,

White,

Light Blue.

Iridescent. 

You. 

Heads bang against the concrete 

Over and over 

Matted hair, dried blood, and senseless smiles. 

White dresses, veiled like a bride.

You take the Holy Sacrament

The stale bread and the bitter wine. 

Knees bruised from prayer. 

Do you hear the whispers, 

The screams of the past? 

Bianca Devin

Brown hair sprawls 

Out from underneath 

The plastic forest green tarp.

It knotted, and natted,

Broken twigs are her 

Crown as she lies 

In a bath of mud. 

She is faceless.

Once vibrant blue eyes,

Glazed over 

Like a doll’s 

Beautiful and bright--fixed 

On the horizon. 

Stiff with rigor,

Nails laced with dirt 

And blood. 

Screams echo in the 

Distant past. 

He presses her 

Down and 

Large gorilla palms

Wrapped around her neck.

He flashes his glimmering 

White teeth at her.

And with 

His knife he draws

A smile,

Where there should be none. 

Rusty red.

On her throat.

Slashed ear to ear. 

Suffocated by 

The very blood that runs 

Through her veins. 

Blue and Red illuminate 

The silence,

Like Christmas likes 

Blinking on and off. 

Laughter, manic and free.

He grabs the knife

And plunges it into his 

Throat---blood--  

Gurgling it like mouthwash. 

Stumbling backwards

Towards his handy-work.

The world will have to 

Find someone else to orbit now! 

He shouts. 

He is the center. 

He is the sun. 

He lies on her.

Covering her porcelain 

Skin, in his black blood. 

Tar on the feathers of a 

Dove. 

He reaches into his pocket

And pulls out his phone.

A flash.

A trophy, 

that he will share with 

The world. 

I’m sorry Bianca 

It reads. 

Here comes Hell,

It’s redemption.

Right? 

This is her life and

I ended it in a minute. 

*tragically this poem was inspired by the real life murder of Bianca Devin ( pictured above) please click here to learn more about her story and how you can help

A Rose by Any Other Name

A rose by any other name would 

Still smell as sweet.

They say. 

Covered in thorns,

Small, sharp, devious and ugly 

Beauty--in its natural state--

becomes danger. 

One graze, can break open

Soft pink sink,

Allowing watery red

Bloody to exude

Out of pores like 

A leaky sink.

A rose by any other name would 

Still smell as sweet. 

Decay. 

Exsanguinated petals lie 

Lifeless and pale. 

Depleted of water,

Frail and withered to the touch.

No trace of lushious tenderous  

The sweetest sent--

One you cannot ignore: 

L’eau de mort

Inevitable, inescapable 

You bathe yourself in it. 

Stems severed, roses beheaded

In one swift cut. 

All so they can rest in 

Their grave alongside

Empty cheese bags,

Apple cores, 

Plastic forks,

And paper plates. 

Haven

In the darkness, I feel you 

Holding me 

arms wrapped 

Around my waist.

Your head gently resting on 

My shoulder. 

Eyes clamped closed,

The warmth of your breath 

Against my bare neck. 

helldogs are unable

Nip at my toes. 

Sinking like an anchor

Deeper and deeper 

Into the mattress

Into the depths of the 

Black sea.

A Conversation

Always take solace in the fact

That when someone knocks you down,

Into the dirt and leaves you stranded. 

That the kindness of a stranger 

Can lift you onto your feet, and remind you, 

Of the innate goodness of people.

Obituary Quantifiers of the Unquantifiable

On a scale from one to ten 

Can you tell me how depressed you are? 

One being not depressed at all.

Ten being having thoughts of 

Despair, 

Hopelessness, 

Death,

Helplessness? 

Can you fall asleep?

Stay asleep throughout the night? 

Do you fear death, or 

welcome it?

hear his seductive whispers,

Has he slipped through your mind’s

back door—unnoticed? Or did you

Hear him knock and let him in. 

Do you wonder what he looks like? 

The man in the hooded coat?  

Do you want to die? 

To be wrapped up in the 

Warmth of Death’s black cloak 

And be hidden away from the rest of the world? 

Invisible. 

Where dark becomes light,

And swaddled in ghostly arms 

Your pain ceases to exist? 

The grandfather clock rings 

In the distance. 

Is it day or night? 

You hear the sound of a cuckoo bird 

Flying away from its nest. 

Deep organes, and golden yellows 

Engulf you—ambrosia of the soul. 

The voice of your grandmother 

Saying give me some sugar, sugar. 

Eyelids heavy, drooping into frowns.

Cozy room—couches flooding with pillows 

Quotes of hope and perseverance hang on the wall. 

You still use the Kroger on West End? 

Great, I’ll see you in three months. 

Ruined Remnants

Eyes closed, 

Head tilted upward 

The heaviness of your brain seems 

To be too much 

For your spine to bear... 

Collapse 

Neverending.

Falling into an oblivion.

Hands groping in darkness,

Moans, rhymically rise. 

Is this heaven or  

Hell? 

Faint--stars dance across the back

Of your black irises;

Tanned skin turns pale and clammy. 

You feel a brush of wind,

The kiss of fear,

The bruise of loss.

Darkness engulfs you.

Afraid to face your foremothers,

To hear the accusations,

To look in the mirror--to see your own reflection. 

Regain the loss

Knowledge. 

Admit that like Odysseus you ran,

From your destiny, your family. 

Captivated by the sirens,

You wonder what lies at

The bottom of the sea.

The wreckage--are the age old myths true? 

You want to gather your sword

Unsheith it, 

Marvel at its power and glory. 

Slice through both man and woman.

Stitch them together. 

Intertwining--anew. 

Mountains so high, overlooking

Landscapes of lush greens.

Triumph.

The air is thinner up here.

To face titians--must you 

Become one yourself?

Invoke fear, respect.

Drunk on power. 

Leader of change or 

Enforcer? 

Blood plusates through you

Lonely, wanting nothing

But to give and to love. 

A willing victim.

Will your lost coin ever be returned? 

The locket of your lover sits in the 

Window of an antique store.

Will the tears ever cease to fall?

Broken and dirty you mall yourself, 

Scratching till your dirt filled nails

Begin to bleed.

Is this insanity? 

Why is the measure of love loss? 

Feral and free

You emerge from your cave

And into the sun. 

Only You

Did you know I wrote my suicide note to you? 

I had it written and if I did anything,

I planed on calling you and leaving you the message. 

I didn’t write one to anyone else. 

Not my parents, or my brother, or even my best friend. 

Only to you. 

The night after I told you I cut myself, my psychiatrist asked me

if I thought about killing myself and if I’d written a note to anyone. 

And I said yes, 

to you.

Only you.

I said I didn’t know why.

He asked to read it. 

I let him.

He told me that I was lucky to have someone that I loved so much

and who loved me. 

And my parents, my brother, and my best friends,

they all know how much I love them. 

And if I died I think they’d know.

But if I died without saying goodbye to you,

you’d never know just how much I love you.

I know now why I only wrote to you. 

It’s because I care for you.

So deeply, and I don’t think I could ever die without saying goodbye to you.