Its personal. 2/22/18

“Taken for Granted”
A one clit
Nipple twist
Into submission
Or volition
A fight for space.
Nuerons misfiring
And ironing
All common sense
In the hands of Builders
Or remodeled?
Tired of wondering
Bring 4th of July
To a winter picnic
Let Vitamin D
Spark and ignite
Seat belt warnings
Traction control
Turned off
Feelings get soft
When overly exposed
To air
Airing out
Overdue apparitions
Of swallowed mediocracy
Of noses sniffling,
Unable to determine
The scent of
Dogs can smell thousands
Of times
Than we can.
And they can
Love that
So whose bite hurts more?
Its personal.


Fucked Like No Other 12/29/17

“You fuck me better than anyone else ever has. ”

She says,

And as instantly as my ego’s mouth

opens up to swallow the delicious words,

my heart pounds my chest

into a vulnerable cavity.

It recalls why it hurts

to hear these words,

even though my mouth has gone dry

with the thirst for them.


She has taken them away before.


Timing, age, hormone fluctuations:

there were always alternate explanations offered.

And while the subjective truth

is that it was likely

done for protection..

The sting remains.

Constantly doing the work to accept

my own feelings,

then being made to wonder

if I was just being




It is a curse at times

to read

others, and wonder whether their words will

find their body’s message.

Or if fear will prevent the delivery,

and suffocate the possibility.

Finally offered a drink in this heat,


tongue couldn’t figure out how to


But I had already absorbed her into

my hollows.


Now, I sit and contemplate

fears we both harbor:

Her fear


whether my hunger

will outgrow her

ability to satiate.

My fear,

A sexual awakening of self

that could lead her backwards,

or perhaps forwards,

into this decade of desire.

Our fear,

that we become too significant to the other.

Our fear,

that the others passion,

is purely circumstantial.



There has been no denying

the strength of this connection.

It cannot be ignored.

It is too warm

to not take up space,

too obvious in the way my body melts,

too resilient in the way it fears

not taking this risk.



Love’s Purest Reaction.

We are both fucked.




Uncomfortable Defaults

I ask permission

for even

the smallest actions,

because too many times

I was stripped naked

and never questioned.

I learned to gather

any enjoyment from

being of service.


I learned that

shutting down

made me safe.

I’m uncomfortable


that which has protected me,

even though I know

the hands that now touch me

offer home;

My fears

vibrate in this healing space, because

I still hesitate.

I still shake,

unable to know how

to offer more


my default.

Unsure if I ever will.

Surrender in Process

Hands still shaking from

the way you fucked me,

I sit solemn,

staring across the room

at a platter

of Christmas cookies.

Inadequacy breathes down my neck,

Reflecting how

I faltered with rules

and temptations

Out of sync in sensation

Gagged by an inability

to express how I feel.

I kept it in, mouth shut,

But my body let it out

Bloody nose,

orgasmic flow,

tears falling


and unrelenting.

My body has learned to surrender,

While my mind has not.

It only accepts that sometimes

my body is weak.

And I benefit from it.

I’m cold,

but the heat is on,

I have words,

but you are gone.

The pillows, the blankets,

my fingers-

they smell like you.

But this poem

is for me.



Thanks to the person with whom I able to figure out these kinks in my own time, and my own way.. No pun intended. Okay, maybe a slight pun.. ❤

Emotions Born of a Feminine Cage 10/17/16

There is a different pain

in understanding

than there is

in blind anger.

Revenge and hatred

rob you of opportunities.

The keep you in limbo, smoldering..

But they also take the edge off

through distraction and action.

Understanding means

you must accept

double the pain.

You must drop to your knees,

you must offer your heart,

Be vulnerable to start



There is no immediate-

no direct effect- of understanding

but perhaps humility.

It keeps you not in fire, but in grief.

Both can exist in the same body,

but often

this burns bridges before you can cross them,

Floats signals of smoke before you speak.

We are often trapped then,

to condemn ourselves,

to one or the other:

As the women who react,

or the woman

you can walk over

and away from.


Written from the point of view of a woman living in a world where our emotions are often trivialized, and our experiences minimized.

Caked in Memories 12/07/17

I can feel myself enshrouding in isolation..
Its a curious temptation.
The desire to be alone

when all I crave

is to connect.
Birthdays are of only


one use to me:
Comparing myself

to previous incarnations

future assumptions

about where
this time and energy will place me.

Its always the hardest for my partners
When they want to get inside

And I let them pretend
By creating an outer layer of myself

That protects the most vulnerable parts of me from
Being seen. I cannot handle being seen,
as much as I desire.
I’m not sure there are many of us that can.

Compassion for the Suffering


They don’t mean to lie.

They tell you they’ll love you at your worst,

(because that is what we all want)

They tell you they won’t leave you,

(because no one ever wants to be left)

They say they prefer communication over distance,

(because its hard not to know) .

They say these things

(meaning well)

And so it goes.


Then they see you at your ugly/

Engorged in your deepest fears,

and those phrases become

simple mantras

to spear

the beast,

relinquish her

and bring you to “peace”.




One of the bigger fears is still here:

that now that they’ve seen the ugly,

they won’t be able to un-see it-

and its talons are only

shackled by a hope

it won’t matter.

(That you can come home)



But hope is not reality, and reality is that

we are human.

And so as soon as the armor drops,

peace bargained monsters subdued,

it can be expected

they will decide to take space,

to shelter their thoughts,

and leave you



This is not unprovoked.

You recognize why they asked you not to do these things.

How much it hurts.

You understand.

And so instead you say “Okay”.

Instead you say “Go on”-

Because you understand their desire to heal.

And how big all of this feels.


Trusting, you tuck away your fears, once more.

And relay on what they’ve said will bring them back-

in the past-

in their own anxiety backlash.



You begin wondering again:

why you are so hard on yourself

for not being able to accomplish the things you are asked

(by others, by yourself).


Answer:                                                     We are only human.

And we are trying.