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Remembering oats at bedtime,
a little light pops on.
The mind races,
frantic about the decision.
10 minutes, Hell in 2
a downward spiral
assaults my mood.
Should have remembered
should have done this sooner for rest.
Distracted. Lazy
Hands  working swiftly,
be mindful.
The rabbit runs a maze,
give it way to light.
Get lost in the goodness that you do.
for you.
Let your fingers move with love.
The sustenance you create.
Store it away.
As I lay my head to rest
it sets,
a smile fires through my brain.
Chemicals brew a joy that fills my limbs
fulfillment in my day.
This is manic high.
The intoxication of my last act,
the will to steal a moment
and prepare the coming dawn.
Should those demons start to speak
raining blood and black on my resolve,
I remembered oats
and shan't be weak.
I recently began therapy to attempt to make sense of the emotional chaos that had been my life up to this point. In addition to anxiety, hypoglycemia can rule my moods so learning to build structure for myself goes a very long way in preventing & managing both sugar & mood drops.
After lazily binging Spawn for most of the night once my boyfriend came home, I realized I hadn't done the prep work to get my work week started right & was starting to beat myself up & get stressed because I needed to get to bed but what the **** do I do? So I took the 15 minutes & did it. I shut up the negative self talk by falling in love with the vibrant colors of the fruit & thinking gratitude for having taken the time for myself, that ultimately would make the next day easier. If I dropped, if I didn't get a lunch break to come home, whatever came up, my breakfast & lunch were taken care of & this would strengthen & armor me for the coming day. I went to bed so proud & elated that for a moment I was at a high, simply buzzing with the having the fortitude to push through that anxiety in my head. My boyfriend, that most helpful dominant push at times, initially was the one to tell me to cook the oats. It was that permission almost, to ease my mind & support the notion. Dealing with my inside voice & energy was the challenge & it was gratifying to have overcome it. I'm learning & trying & working hard to be my best. The words were coming to me & felt fun & free & its relieving to share them.
Patterns spiral on
like the hands of a clock.
My mind dissects the mechanism
to learn where I fit in.
I fear if I should find myself,
then I shall be forgot.
Where will I fit in?
Sometimes I scour the walls of my room
desperately searching for where I fit in,
If I lost count of all my lovers
& my very dearest friends.
I'd always be waiting for the bottom to drop
& wondering where I fit in.
Twelve moons have passed
with you
& I do not know where I fit in.
Like twelve years ago
in school,
I did not know where I fit in.
The twelfth I shall pack to travel North,
a brief moment of time to fit everyone in
to a world where people love me
precisely because I stand out.
Tossing & turning on this twin size bed,
I wake up furiously ***** & hungry.
Unable to truly satiate either.
How do I turn this black light off?
Through poetry & delusion,
I remembered to brush my hair.
A small sign that madness isn’t winning.
I long for late night Waffle House, sweet ***, the ecstasy that is your laugh & deep sleep.
To doze safely in your arms as the sun rises
& be comfortable believing
That your love isn’t a dream.

My Name is Kayla  
It is 3:20am
Im in Killeen, TX
A thought provoking rage
boils beneath my bones.
The fury that spawns words
still choking behind fear.
I cradle my guilt.
I want to lash out,
exert my deviance & manipulate,
pull the strings of the puppets I create.
The strength in me is cruel.
I claw & pick my flesh
to distract myself from madness.
The kind queen feels dead inside
trampled by mistrust & abuse.
All of my fight withdraws to protect her
& leaves me frozen.
My kingdom at the mercy of men.
Will divided.
The desire to thrive
& the yearning to submit.
Quarter & Stone
Metal & Bone
all of my bodies decay.
The handcuff bites my wrist
as teeth sink, searing flesh.
A breath, a scent too familiar to forget.
Massive palms, razor point
carving canyons down my spine,
blood is the wine.
The burn of beard
feigning consent.
Fistfuls of hair conquering words.
A corpse to rob me of life,
the press of perversity against satin.
Fighting, writhing
Pain swells in every limb
the wet swell reveal my sin.
Slaps stinging awake
every fiber of clothing still keeping me safe.
The drive of possession
splitting secrets wide,
fingers around throat clenching tight.
Sweat running red,
the rising growls growls resonate in my head.
The raw force bruising
like claiming a slave,
body & mind consuming.
Ferocity leads to frenzy,
my senses rage against me,
The thickness rips,
conquers my body for paradise.
And I scream in the ecstasy taken.
A clenching incites eruptions,
the pulsing beast flooding.
My purpose awakened.
My words.
Clawed from my tongue.
Seized in the great gray.
Who took my words?
Replaced them with flowing tears instead
Of my words.
Deep grasping breath,
pulling at my hair,
tongue to teeth.
Where are my words?
Don't leave.
The child is begging
for my words.
Only the sounds of heartbreak
in which to dip your quill.
Choking on nothing,
unfed by empty thrill.
Where are my words?
My words.
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