Putting a bunch of shorter Poems from various days into this post. A lot deal with anxiety.  



Brushing my teeth

won’t remove the green

stains of jealousy

rotting my ability to

communicate. No, the

harshness of fear translates

ugly on the surface,

leaves others

with a prickly sensation.

Poor mental hygiene

is to blame.



Filtering thoughts

Overflow from work

Thrown headfirst

into a burst

of negativity

from all sides

no compromise

Christmas Time

and fielding lies

Finding truth

in only that

which matters to me.

Love divine

Irrational Signs

of cosmic symmetry



The barricades are rolling


over my toes and


around my ankles-

The prick of the wire

barbed and foreboding

makes me feel stuck

and I can’t

will myself to move

from this place

of fear.



Like the fox,

I won’t let you hurt me,

Not with your presence,

nor with your threats.

Instead I will watch

patiently, until you retreat.

Then I will tremble onward,





An overdone sequence

of beginnings.

Declarations of intent

with no strength

to follow through.

Chewing on pens.

Later, later, later.

Why bother?

Reminders tacked to nuerons

firing yourself for trying.

Over before you started.

Begin again,

a bigger process

of learning to overcome



(or lack thereof)



I am the constant

swing of light

from day to night

I am the echoing

reverence of a silent church

My palms are flattened

from the support they offer.

I am enough to make

you wonder about.

Death becomes me

but I will not become death.

A removal of soul

beyond this physical realm.

My shoulders can dip

and shimmy into

outspread arms,

through valleys of truth,

the kind you spit out,

but doesn’t accept returns.



I can walk you through battlefields from the confines of my memories,

A palm on your back to gently lead you around the landmines.

It is only later I will venture back alone

to talk to the ghosts there,

the figments of trust, love, nurturing, and safety,

and I will stroke their shimmering corporeal beings

in greeting.

We know one another too well,

and yet they still wonder why I continue to haunt the physical realm.

I remind them that they would not be visited if I ceased to lead

these new souls through their graveyards,

if I didn’t create plaques of poetry inspired by them.

They laugh,

because I don’t even believe me.



Living in a world of constant stimulation,

validation plugged into our fingers:

Tap, swipe, like, repeat:

We don’t make room for sunshine

and other necessary things.

The only way to conquer this constant pull is to

live with deprivation sometimes.

No outside inhalations.

Only those within.

Taking the time to sleep, organize, rifle through thoughts that have gathered.

If I let them all collect dust, the bunnies will outnumber my sanity.



Anxiety is swirling around

the back of my throat

like a Bubble



the lining of my

vocal chambers

burn hollow

from the water in my lungs


which have forced their

way into my

energy channels

Swimming upstream

Nightmare dreams

The desire to expel

but the lack of ability to tell


how to accomplish this.





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.

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.