Throughout our childhood, our grandmother would turn to us,
in her yellow-lit kitchen, brandishing a rubber spatula or meat
tenderizer to warn us against falling to temptation. She’d witnessed
too many good people disappear into what she called
a consumption of the soul,

              and as my cousins licked sugary batter off their spoons,
no one could have known that one day the candy-coating
would melt from their eyes to see their mother
for what she had done the last six years that now showed in her trembling hands, glossed vision, and a temperament that splashed into anger, flowed into melancholy as easily as she had found herself downing bleary bubbles at the brim of a precipiced fountain.
She was promised her very own message in a bottle, and this keep-sake

manifested in cousin Libby’s dreams, floating down a wine river
that gushed from the slashes in her mother’s wrists. Somehow I knew
these nightmares were born from warm and heady “sleep well”s
mumbled from across the darkest of rooms which held so many glass
ghouls with names and strengths so real, they even scared

my grandmother into silence as she stirred the pecan pie for Easter dinner. She offered to let me lick the spoon clean, but I simply
asked for straight sugar instead.

Creativity is a weapon.
Giving up is not an option.
Imagination is a strength.
Knowing your flaws is not a weakness.
Knowing you have them is a strength.
Pride is important,
But too much pride is deadly.
Love is key,
And hate is the beginning of the end.
Death is an adventure,
But life is as well.
Perseverance is admirable.
Crying is okay to do.
Taking a break,
Catching your breath,
That's okay.
But with all the things working for you,
Giving up is not an option.

I build a wall of insecurities
That may never be crossed
Because if the wall is weakened
My feelings get tumbled and tossed

I never mean to put up guard
But I can’t help it sometimes
I’m afraid of getting hurt
When people start crossing lines

I never wanted to come off mean
I just put up my wall
I only end up hating myself
I never wanted to hurt you at all

I refuse to let anyone close
I’ll only push you away
If I ever seem bitter to you
It’s only because I’m afraid

My insecurities protect me
Or so it may seem to be
Because when my wall comes crumbling down
Nobodies hurt but me

We believe scars are weaknesses.
They are not, they shouldn’t be.
They should be prizes and trophies
To hang on walls and dust everyday
And when someone comes over you can say,
“Look, I was there. I tried, I fought,
and I survived. I lived.
I am alive.”

You
Can't see the tumbling, swirling
Panicking, sweating
Trembling, faltering
Absolute mess inside me.
We simply stand there
Bright wind biting at our bodies
Your murmuring mouth
Speaking to me
– to me!
O, the wonder
To watch you stand beside me
O the brilliant pain of it;
The flickering, flashing,
Hot, slicing thrills in my heart
O such a simple night,
Such a starry night above us
To hear you say,
– to me –  
“Just alright?”
“Just alright.”
Just as if you cared
At all.