I over-watered my cactus
It died
It choked actually
and
that gave me
a reality check
into the way
I care
Dec 9, 2025
Dec 9, 2025 at 8:17 PM UTC
Mama,
they took my degree
'cause they don't want me to see.
They fear a woman thinking
more than any enemy.
Mama,
they measure worth in numbers
that were never made for me.
Then they lock the books behind them
and swear it's "just bureaucracy."
Mama,
they grip their power tightly
and pretend it's done politely.
They trace our steps with doubt
like brilliance in a woman is unlikely.
Mama,
they fold our dreams like laundry,
and claim it's "tradition" and equality.
Then they seal our applications
with our failure written quietly.
Mama,
they can strip away my dignity
the way they broke women in history.
They can even whisper desperate pleas
but Oh, Mama,
they will never take me.
Dec 9, 2025
Dec 9, 2025 at 8:16 PM UTC
"I'm Sorry"
Two words.
One meaning.
Most of the time.
"Sorry" is supposed to be a person's way of making amends, making things right again.
But so many people say it to end an argument or get themselves out of the trouble they are in.
They don't really feel remorse or regret about the things they've done.
The don't want to change the future and make better decisions.
They just want you to forget the things that made them say "sorry" in the first place.
They want you to forget so when they do these things again it doesn't seem so bad.
Don't forget.
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 10:32 PM UTC
it was a Saturday, last June.
it was a beautiful day.
we'd been talking for almost a month and I was excited to finally meet you.
you made the hour drive to my town and picked me up from work.
mini golf, lunch, a walk by the water, and our first kiss.
it was perfect.
if only things had stayed as perfect as that first day.
now, you lie to me.
you lie about me.
you say you're not in love with me anymore.
you say you're not sure about us.
are you ashamed?
have I done something wrong?
am I not smart enough? not pretty enough? am I just not enough for you?
what do I need to do? what do you want?
just tell me, and I'll do it.
I want nothing else.
I only want you.
it was a Saturday, last June.
I fell in love with you the moment I met you.
and now I'm supposed to tell those feelings to take a back seat so you can decide if you still want to drive.
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 11:54 PM UTC
why is it so easy for some people to lie?
they open their mouths and the foulest, most horrible **** comes flying out with no problem.
they might tell you they lie to protect you, that the truth would hurt so much more.
but isn't that just code for "I'm a cowardly **** who can't ball up" ??
maybe that's just how I see it.
I was taught it's not right to lie and that honesty is the best policy.
I truly believe that too.
I mean it.
I wouldn't lie..
Nov 10, 2015
Nov 10, 2015 at 11:44 PM UTC
The truth about love
Is that there is no truth
Love is a chemical imbalance in the head
It doesn't last and always leaves depression in it's wake
Oct 17, 2015
Oct 17, 2015 at 12:18 AM UTC
the darkness is starting to cloud over,
the sadness is pulling me in.
I can feel the shadows starting to grow,
they turn to me and grin.
"*come closer dear one,
we won't bite. we're harmless, we swear*"
but I wasn't raised a foolish one,
the enemy is clearly right there.
I swallow my fear and turn away,
preparing to flee the scene.
that's when the sadness pulls me back,
it's like I'm living a bad dream.
but then many voices call to me,
my sanity has arrived.
it's the voices of my family,
they'll help me find the light.
life has ups and downs you see,
of that I know I'm sure,
but it's the choices that you make during it,
that determine your final score.
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 2:37 PM UTC
the trouble with parents,
is they're supposed to be the ones who teach us right from wrong,
they're supposed to be the ones that show us the ideal relationship,
someone to model our lives after.
but what happens when their relationship becomes the kind you should avoid?
what happens when they don't know how to show you true love, because they aren't in it anymore?
what happens when the world you've known for 21 years falls apart right in front of you?
the trouble with parents,
is they spend our lives teaching us what love is supposed to be,
but what good are those lessons if their love died in the process?
when do we become the teachers and our parents the students?
how do you teach your parents to be in love again?
the trouble with parents,
is they don't know everything,
but they spend our lives making us think they do.
Oct 15, 2015
Oct 15, 2015 at 1:59 PM UTC
she never complained
about how long my hair was
or that how it reeked of
cigarettes when she kissed me
good morning,
she never painted
my skin grey
when the sun
shined,
she never told me
that my
breakfasts of
turkey sandwiches
and pepsi weren't healthy,
she told me once that
I should quit smoking
because she did,
I never did,
she says I drink to much,
she told me that
she loved me
when I made her laugh,
her legs were always warm
and I told her she could start a fire
when she doesn't shave,
she laughed,
she told me that
she loved me when
my friend died,
she never told me
why she loved me,
she never gave
me a reason to leave,
I never told myself why
she loved me, I never knew,
so I gave myself a reason
so through tears
she then told me
to go **** myself
Oct 14, 2015
Oct 14, 2015 at 8:05 PM UTC
fixation forces your
nails to carve my back into
an abstract painting of
the way your breath
holds my face in it’s grasp,
the way your
legs tighten up as they
clash to mine.
your eyes tell stories
of how your
hair wrapped to my
fingertips pulls your head
back with eyes
blank, storylines
consisting of
the surfaced portions
screaming a crimson
cry to the hands that
caress your throat,
bearing the heat
of the constant
conflict between
your skin and mine.
whispered screams of
wanted foreshadowing
allows for bodies to
convulse at signs of
complete puncture,
vocal chords tear at
points of ******
a sudden ******
shudder bringing vibrations
to the very being pushing
your walls
to a sexually climaxed halt.
teeth tear a chest to a skins
stretching point,
the blood
dripping down
forefront is
the morning dew
falling off an abandoned
bed frame,
tangible exhales
hit the walls,
the walls that house
the sweaty palms of
your hands as the consistent
tremors vibrate
the bed posts, expelling
tedious creeks.
waves of warmth
clash to the walls as
my fingernails
find a homaged
home amidst the
warmth of your arms
followed by nothing more
than a shared laugh and
sudden heavy breathing
Sep 8, 2015
Sep 8, 2015 at 11:17 AM UTC