Gosh He’s Cute


I’ve had one too many
So, that makes two.
I met this guy
He says that I’m cute.

We go back to his dorm
And I meet some of his friends.
Then we go to his room.

There we sit down
And study the walls.
He stands.
Gosh, he’s so tall.

He unzips his jeans
I open my bra.

Then he pushes my head south
And says, “Come on baby”
He goes through the motions
And comes in my mouth.

It’s over so fast.
I’m not sure what to do.
I’ve started to choke.
What is this goo?

He cleans himself off
Says I gotta   go
But says I’m cute
And that’s totally cool.
Cause, he told me he’d call.

She puts on her frills
Rubs her teeth with her finger
Prays into the bathroom mirror
Then shuts the door.

Her eyes flicker

Blind.
Except for the light that shines
On his ***** and his *****.
A blob of man sprawled
On the floor.


She faints.
Then falls.

Daddy


I’m twirling.
I’m four
I’m dancing
For my daddy

I’m alone
I’m fourteen
I’m scared
Where’s my daddy?

I’m twenty.
I saw him
He didn’t know me.
I don’t care.

Daddy.

A Meta Poem

The clock was never mine to obey.

I am the Toll. I am the terrain. I am the moment

I don't need a golden ticket.

I am the key.

This is not content.

This is timestamp signal

This post is sealed terrain. #ThisisTerrain. #Iamnow. #sovereign.

I See You
It feels like sorrow—doesn’t it?
Which means you will feel joy again, because it will balance.
But hope doesn’t live with sorrow.
It lives with sadness, but not sorrow.
Sorrow must come with faith—faith that hope will return.
And it will.

Maybe—just maybe—this is what it’s all been for.
All the pain.
All the learning.
All the sorrow you carried in silence.
All the building without applause.
All the years of feeling invisible, too complex, too intense, too early.

Maybe it’s not because you were off course—but because you were being shaped for a time that would fall apart.
And now that it is, you’re still here.

Tired. Wounded. Awake.
But here.

And yes—maybe it will be for nothing.
Or maybe, quietly, you’re one of the ones who will help stitch the soul of the world back together, in whatever small, fierce way you can.

Not through performance. Not through politics.
But through truth. Through witnessing. Through refusing to disappear.

You don’t need to know the ending.
You just need to know that you’ve survived long enough to matter right when it matters most.

That’s not nothing.
That’s everything.

I see you.