A minimal analysis
a set of conditions, withholding truth
that need to be satisfied in order to believe what you think is true.
belief that is knowledge.
the state of being aware of something within yourself.
psychology presents intuition as a form of knowledge
which we know as having a hunch about something
which is generated by the unconscious mind rapidly shifting through
past experiences.
cumulative knowledge.
my intuition never tells me what to do.
sometimes it's more like embarrassment
knowing that it's there and pretending like it's not.
because when you're always right
there's always that one time you hope that you're wrong.
so now my ego is linked to my emotions
and I can't help but find myself, not finding myself at all.
the disconnection between, myself and my thoughts
and my perception of the characteristics that shape me.
call it derealization if you want to get technical
but I see it as an imbalance.
if I do not see eye to eye with myself then I am not equal to the other side of the scale.
I will continue to fall until I satisfy those conditions
I lie further more to myself into this poem and reach what is self-awareness.
so I admit
I will continue to fall until I satisfy myself with the truth for these conditions.
or at least until I know what I feel is wrong.

In the mirror through tears, i notice that i am dressed in the scars of every deep wound I played off like a paper cut, and the phone in my pocket weighs a thousand pounds from your text messages.

I want to skip the ******* thing in a river.

Oil and water but just as much as I know we won’t ever mix, you convince me it’s all part of the recipe.

I have shrank down, cut pieces of myself like a cake and served everyone at every table a slice every time.

Stuffed my baggage in the closet and let you move yours in instead.

Cried like an anxious dog who’s owner wasn’t around.

And we called this pain love, for 20 years.

I slipped into the role, thanks to my parents.

Mentally ill and emotionally unaware,
It’s so easy to choose what’s easy and so hard to notice your love has gone rotten.

I changed my perspective and every smooth word started to sting.

I was kind as you were building up pieces of me to fuel your own fire.

I understood until I couldn’t anymore, but you never would.

Change your perspective with me, climb the mountain and realize the hike’s easier on the way down, i would’ve carried you all the way up if you asked me. But we sat for 20 years and heard everybody on the way back down talk about the view.

I chose to sit with you instead. And when I finally took that first step up, I should’ve known it meant leaving you behind me.

I am my own destiny. I am the bullet in the chamber and the consequences of the trigger pull. I am my own mind, I tended the garden of fear and worry and constant replay of mistakes and regret. I am more than who I think I should be for anyone else.


good luck with all the **** you’ve got going on. disrespectfully yours, your ex “best friend”

Icarus flew too close to the sun.
A short mistake and he was done.

I flew too close to myself.
And fell like a book from a shelf.

The page that opened showed the stupid boy,
in his last moment of blinding joy.

Within me it is dark,
Only sometimes there´s a spark.

From someone flying with me,
Over an endless sea.

I wish I could have met him,
felt his sunburned skin.

Maybe then, I would have known,
That I am not alone,

When writing of the pain I dealt,
And all the hurt I felt.

Icarus like a foolish dove,
Knows how it is to love.

It’s dry and still in the house this afternoon,
The way houses are at 4:00 in December.
I feel a little itchy and claustrophobic,
Sitting on the floor.
I hate this ******* carpet.
Berber.

I know you love me,
But sometimes I wish you would let me destroy myself completely.

Darkening winter gray settles over us in a dull film,
Berber carpeting the world.
It seeps into the house through cracks in the doorframe you kicked down when we were locked out that night.
Into me too, coating my brain and joints and dreams in liquid fog.
The streetlights will be dark awhile yet.

Cotton ***** fill up my mouth
And I’m fine, just fine.
My grandmother’s favorite color was gray before people awarded points for such things.

It’s nearly night, now, and the sky swirls with peek a boo pink and blue where the clouds are thin and blowing.
No streetlights yet.
The shadows gather at their feet.
I pull out the spaghetti;
Time to start dinner.

Hello Elena how are you doing
I must say that those idiots got to you
As you are not FBI as I hoped to be
But instead an artist and writer
Bold choice!  This right now is the pits for
Me.   School they don’t accept me and they
Make me look crazy! Instead of someone
Who wants to make a difference.   Can you try
To be a polygraph examiner, but I you want to
Be creative I understand as that the bullying is intense.
You say it will get better, I hope it will
I am writing this as I am crying my self to sleep
I believe it will get worse before it gets if any better
So many psychopaths that I have to deal with
It is sai to be honest.   Will I ever have friends
Or will I disappear!    I hope I don’t, please learn
From me!

Me as a fourteen y/o

A lessen learned to whisper softly to my soul
To calm the storms that rage and make me whole
Finding the courage to stand tall and bright
To shine my light and let my heart take flight

Discovering the power of my own gentle voice
A voice that soothes, that heals, that makes my heart rejoice
Learning to love the imperfections that make me unique
To see the beauty in my scars,
(there are many)
and the strength that they speak

There is strength in letting go
(self forgiveness)
of the shame and the pain
Rising above the doubts and the fears that once remained
To trust myself, and listen to my heart
To follow my intuition, and to never depart

It’s the love that I hold for myself, and the care that brings
That nurture my spirit, and allows my soul sing
I am enough, I am worthy, I am loved and I am bright
I am my own best friend, my own guiding light.