#processing
There are songs
I’d forget
And songs
that never forget me
They play back
what I tried
to bury
Some days
I let the record spin
on repeat
Other days
I shelve it
like it never
knew my name
But the sound
still finds me
at sunset
Right at the intersection
where my secrets meet
Between
Sorrow Avenue
and Heartbreak Boulevard
I linger there
too long
Crossing over
to somewhere
farther than closure
So I take the needle
between my fingers
Flip
to the other side
Study the grooves
like they might confess
something new
Hoping the waves
don’t distort
what I’m trying
to survive
But they always do
Because the weight
carried in sound
doesn’t fade
It fractures
Into highs
and lows
that echo longer
than they should
The songs I’d forget
The songs I regret
They don’t leave
They shape me
Into a perfectly imperfect
mess
Apr 21
Apr 21, 2026 at 11:12 PM UTC
The break is not the wound—
it is where the wound
must choose
what it becomes.
We have split the line—
but not the light.
Grief arrives
pre-named,
already rehearsed.
A lament that arrives
exactly on cue;
Is it sorrow
or is it choreography?
The stanza leans.
The thought—
never risks
falling.
---
Unless the stillness
is the point —
and you knew that
all along.
Feb 26
Feb 26, 2026 at 7:55 PM UTC
I'm just frozen in time, like all my effort's went in the bin.
Hope, what's hope when you let go of the rope.
Everyone's telling you the word no , so all i do is smoke the dope.
My mind's always racing, heart's pulsating they make out i'm hallucinating.
Accusations are the cause to my frustrations,
only so much words i can take before my mind becomes invasive.
Family got me blocked after them throwing rocks to get me to tie the knot,
But i'm okay with being the forget me knot.
Everyone's life's continue as mine came to a stand still,
Stuck in a sand timer for bit of closure.
wishing i could breath under the worlds bolder
Always been the ears for they're fears but no care for my tears.
Feb 16
Feb 16, 2026 at 12:13 PM UTC
We were thick as thieves, you and I.
Children climbing trees, scraping knees
your wild red hair untamed,
my ponytail pulled tight
to keep the hair out of my eyes.
I lingered in the low, heavy branches,
building whole universes out of bark and breath.
We could’ve lived in those worlds forever.
But you needed to see the rooftops
So you climber higher.
We were quite the pair, you and I.
Teenagers tasting freedom for the first time
your hazel eyes locked on the impossible,
mine drifting skyward, finding shapes in the clouds.
Fear kept my feet fixed to the ground,
but oh, the mountains we climbed.
I was content just to witness the view;
you needed the summit,
always higher.
We lost touch after college, you and I.
Young adults facing storms larger than ourselves.
Your first tattoo, a black-and-grey symbol of hope.
Mine, a watercolor reminder of strength.
Both of us still answering nature’s call:
I lay by quiet riversides,
and you chased waterfalls,
higher and higher.
“We used to be best friends, her and I,”
I said to an old friend on the phone.
I remembered your wild red hair
while nervously twisting my own.
I never saw you slipping
until you were already gone.
I was tangled in my own world,
and you were still just trying to feel
higher.
Dec 6, 2025
Dec 6, 2025 at 7:05 AM UTC
Tense audience members, in active learning auditorium classes,
all crammed together.
In the first few days there were times that I felt genuinely lost.
I wasn’t used to processing everything,
especially technical things, in French.
On day two, one guy, looking askance, said,
‘That was confusing, right?’ Which was a relief.
On day three, Charles, watching me via the rear-view mirror,
said, “Trust the process, kid-0.”
And eventually, around day four, I started to find my footing.
Shall we wax, free-versely, poetic?
Who has it worse than a physician?
There’s no sleeping in that business,
and the physician’s wisdom, press'd with caution, is seldom desired or given careful attention.
Surely, I’ve heard it reasoned, those who applaud pristine health are but abusing God's patience.
But what else remains, for learned men - the priesthood, with its beguiling, terrestrial proverbs?
That idea’s a purgative. And I am female.
Besides, they’ve erased much of the good will that came out of Nazareth.
.
.
Songs for this
Welcome to the Jungle (808 Remix) by Freedom Dub
Easy Way Out (version française) by Mariama
Sep 18, 2025
Sep 18, 2025 at 10:48 AM UTC
Her laugh broke the window pane -
shards of glass pouring like rain,
the sound of shattering safety made her blood run cold
as she clung to disintegrating silence.
Grains of silent-self
pricking the backs of her eyes until tears streamed down her cheeks
wiping fiction from flesh, eyes turned to the floor
so you won't see the sadness where the sparkle should be.
Could be.
Would be.
Maybe.
She feels the barbed wire noose around her tongue loosen,
unfurling its razor sharp grip on her throat
to the melody of the sweet small voice singing soothing songs
seducing her to speak.
Speak.
The words fall clumsily from her lips like ***** clattering plates
splattering waste on wall and doors
leaving a mess that cannot be swept
nor hidden under the carpet or clothes.
"Please. Please.".
She feels eyes burning into naked-self
declaring the truth as if it had the strength to stand,
to bear the weight of shame from times that should remain untold,
but she told.
"Look away. Please. Don’t look at me,
I need you not to look at me, please please please".
She squirms beneath the squirming,
the crawling cascade of bugs under her skin,
in her-self, ***** girl -
ankles twisting, fingers bending, hands trembling,
heart beating, breath quickening, mouth begging
"please please don’t look at me".
The kiss to be seen, breaks like a scream
on the back of a lifetime playing dead,
choking back the words left unsaid,
hiding scars of the wounds that once bled.
*****
Wounds that call from beneath layers of scar tissue,
a symphony of whispering simpering bacteria
recalling the filthy mire imploding from the pyre;
seal after seal broken leaving her less beauty, more beast.
Her pleas broke the threshold,
falling forward, hands and knees grinding into twigs and leaves,
his grip so thick on her hair
that he heaves out a scream from the depths of her bowels,
ripping through tension and fear
to gift a mark, a shame, a name that won’t disappear –
“Don’t look at me”.
They call it ******
as if you could name a pain that seared so deep it
drew a blood that would take a week to heal
and a ***** that would never stop rising.
Her arms buckled under the weight of shame,
of blame, of every screaming name he seethed into her sullied flesh,
with every wavering breath she breathed – “please don’t look at me”.
His hands grip beneath her hips
nails biting into aching, seeping flesh, filling her pores with
more, more, more.
Baths - a thing of the past,
water hot, rusted and greying with the rot that lies on her,
with the putrid knot that lies in her.
“I’m so ashamed.”
*****
Her exhaustion broke her human-ness –
body depleted from repeated invasion that she couldn’t stop,
that he wouldn’t stop -
as forced kisses stole breath,
focus lost and a nip to his tongue would cost a choke-hold to blur the world,
spit on her face hurled with the venom of an injured python.
Cold, hard, scraping against skin trying to get in –
“Please.” –
bugs crawling, cascading, invading,
fighting my womb, biting my flesh raw, boring into my blood
turning life force to mud and self separated from beautiful source.
I felt his thrill at my hip.
“Please don’t ...
Is it masochism to share the most humiliating, hurt or is it healthy?”
*****
Her mouth broke -
alive with sensations and nerves that serve
to taste to feel, to flex a tongue to sing to speak to eat.
He drew her to her knees,
with greater and greater ease
to penetrate perception with ********** till her jaw ached and strained,
drained, choking back the spoils of man,
feeling panic as her stomach recoils vomiting shame.
*****
Jul 4, 2013
Jul 4, 2013 at 4:49 PM UTC
I must look ridiculous
to these other café patrons—
just a woman with orange-dyed hair
blinking back stubborn tears,
trying not to cry
into her honey, lemon, and ginger.
But I sit there, half-failing
to maintain my composure.
I look anywhere else—
up at the ceiling,
out the window,
trying not to meet anyone’s eyes.
These tears dare to seep,
but this sadness needs to steep—
not pour.
Or else they'll overflow
in overwhelm.
I must take the helm.
So I take a sip:
that warm, sweet bitterness
rights the ship.
And the gentle calm
soaks back in.
They may glance over and wonder
What must be on her phone
To evoke such emotion?
Oh, don't mind me
I'm just writing poetry
about a silly girl,
and her hopes for understanding
Falling onto deaf ears yet again
and again,
and again,
and again
One more long swill
A sharp intake of breath
They prickle at my eyes,
Again
My teacup is empty -
I think I'll need another ***
For the sake of my sanity
I cannot let them see it pour
For a flood, an empty teacup
Has begot
Jul 19, 2025
Jul 19, 2025 at 6:14 AM UTC
the last time I had spoken to ghosts
was when I unbuttoned the world
and took a seam ripper to all its edges
sitting in your old chair
holding the fabric of remembrance
chewing on the mouldy taste of grief
slowly freeing the overlocked words
I had buried deep into the stitches
the thing is,
when I get dressed in the morning
There's always a button missing
There's always a sadness
stuck in the hem
Jul 17, 2025
Jul 17, 2025 at 12:52 AM UTC
I’m shaking, I’m breaking, I don’t know what to say,
I know I have faults, but you made me this way.
I grew you gardens, you smashed them to the ground,
Made me feel like I was horrible to be around.
You’d do anything for me, a knight at my heel,
But when I got comfortable, that’s when you got real.
Suit of armor discarded, no time to waste,
I must submit and forget freedom’s taste.
I can’t trust your kindness, it always feels fake,
Anxiety peaked, each smile feels like a mistake.
I tunneled out, broke away from your ground,
But you broke my mind, my thinking unsound.
If someone is kind, my heart starts to race,
Because kindness once ended with knuckles to my face.
Trust in this world is so hard to be found,
I’m trying to heal, but I’m being too loud.
Yet I don’t know any other way,
Than to scream my thoughts and even my pain.
It’s up and down, this chaos I’m feeling,
It’s bitterly exhausting—
But I guess that’s just healing.
Jul 11, 2025
Jul 11, 2025 at 2:33 AM UTC
Blade
Skin
Slice
Warm
Flowing
Blood
Dark
Silent
Thud
Scream
Sirens
Rush
"It's
Too
Late"
Calm
Quiet
Rest
Jul 7, 2025
Jul 7, 2025 at 1:04 PM UTC
We never had a song—
no chorus to hum,
no melody stitched
into the seams of us.
And maybe we didn’t need one.
Maybe the silence was enough.
But you love music.
And I love music.
So how did we not have a song,
if the love was real?
When we were dancing
were we pretending to feel?
Jun 12, 2025
Jun 12, 2025 at 12:11 AM UTC
Did you love me?
Or was it just my laughter at your jokes—
my habit of giggling, even at your half-shady pokes?
Did you love me?
Or did I just have the time?
Did you think, “Yeah, she’s not half bad. This could be just fine.”
Did you love me?
Or were you just scared—
tired of doing life alone, craving a body that cared?
Was it real for you? Or just another game?
Was I a plot point in your story
because the chapters had gotten tame?
These thoughts still haunt me—
and the truth I’ll never know.
Mostly because I’d never ask—
and I wouldn't survive you saying “no.”
May 27, 2025
May 27, 2025 at 1:38 AM UTC
i don't know what's wrong with me
but something was happening so long ago
and it still repeats in my head
makes me want to shut my eyes and go
i don't know what's wrong with me
but i can't talk about it
no matter how hard i try
i'm just to scared to admit that i've been through some ****
i don't know what's wrong with me
every time i see those awful people
every time there's a loud noise or a crowded room
it just reminds me that the whole world is sheeple
i don't know what's wrong with me
their words repeat in my head in an infinite loop
their mocking keeps coming up
feels like i'm in a boiling *** of trauma soup...
haha i don't ******* know what's wrong with me!!!
Nov 14, 2024
Nov 14, 2024 at 11:14 AM UTC
I miss you every day
Your personality and your face
The way you'd greet me after being away
only momentarily
How you made me feel just after I wake
The weird ways you would lay
Your cheeky smile and how we would play
You changed my life in unquantifiable ways
Gave me a reason to make effort
and build on myself to be better
I hate how we parted in haste
Filled with hostility, upset, lacking grace
I replay it, and wish it was different
But I know it's something I can't change
And that's okay
Because I know you're doing well
Looking after yourself
Bringing joy to the world
Still being who you are with no filter
I keep your photos up to remember
I'll love you forever...
Aug 3, 2024
Aug 3, 2024 at 4:31 AM UTC
Dear dad,
From you I learned that anger was scary.
You never expressed it in a way that wasn't frightening.
Anger was always directed at someone or something,
You often voiced threats and I could only nod along because I was so afraid.
Ever since the day you burned the bridge we made,
The string that kept me full of hope; burned and faded away,
I'd lie to myself for a long time,
I protected you my whole life.
Because of you, I don't know how to feel mad.
It rarely happens but when it does,
It's usually directed at myself.
Because I don't want to scare or hurt anyone else.
I can't use my voice when I'm angry
I cry and step away,
Or wait until I get to my car to scream
as I drive home and feel hateful.
I hate my anger...
I feel disappointed
I'll never tell you but
I wish you had done better.
Mar 22, 2024
Mar 22, 2024 at 9:53 PM UTC
When I was young I wrote about
How therapy was always trying to trawl me treacherous
With only having gone a handful of times as a child.
Today therapy is a friend to me,
Only trying to tear my troubles from my treacherous hands
To help me understand where they come from
And where I stand.
Oct 19, 2023
Oct 19, 2023 at 10:59 PM UTC
The clearing in the woods is where
I find solace and solitude
I call it “the glade” as it caresses
The covert, ceaseless, controlled calmness
That captures my core and character
Like a meditative mantra,
It manumits the melancholy misery
Of mundane mortality
Quiet and still, the glade is an asylum
For amnesty, absolution and
Apology of the mind
Jun 29, 2023
Jun 29, 2023 at 11:09 PM UTC
To be knelt in a shower
Watching crimson mix with water
Some good ol’ fashioned
Pain drain
Bloodletting
How delicious
What is it about a cleansing ritual
That brings
Soot to surface
It’s scar tissue
Meets fresh wounds
Amidst the carnage
A kernel of truth
Cartography
How scrumptious
What is it about toweling off
That removes
Less than we thought
It’s whispered words
Meets silent screams
All this chaos
What does it mean
Decryption
How cathartic
What is it about slipping into jeans
That tucks away the secrets
Folds up the mental maps
Slurps the blood from the floor
And masks us up
For the world to adore
///
“How was your weekend?”
(wait, what’s my line?)
Plasma
A flushed cheek
“Oh…it was fine”
smiles
Merely existing
How divine
///
Aug 25, 2022
Aug 25, 2022 at 11:10 AM UTC
Aphrodite have I done you so wrong
That you enamore me in loves somber song
Yet leave his holy heart unignited
Cursing me with burning affection unrequited
Why allow me to be denied Anteros
And Eros strike me so cruelly with arrows
That I must make Philia to be enough
When what I desire fervently is his fleeting love
I see now goddess that I you must truly despise
For you sent forth Phobos and Deimos to terrorize
Until I found my heart to be ragged and maimed
Still for their sake I find myself acting as if it's the same
Aug 17, 2022
Aug 17, 2022 at 1:41 AM UTC
She and I together were never
the source of fireworks,
but of Landmines
Buried shallow in the Earth,
Never knowing what it's worth,
only showing each our dirt,
and telling each our hurt,
Yelling needless ****** words.
She and I together
wore always our clouds
at night
A wry smile and a drunken slight,
and a sallow bit of cold street light,
never trying to start a fight,
and with nothing
left to ignite,
Wondering if we're going to be
alright.
I know she probably will;
With that tough mind
of hers and her
inner fire bright,
an inferno of delight,
and her supernatural
sight,
always finding keys to
the doors locked
up most tight.
She and I today had one hell
of a trying time,
in the park where she dragged me along
by the unravelling thread
inside my mind.
I had to snip the thread
there,
and then,
She said "it's too nice a day
for us to say
'The End.'"
I said "it's not nice enough
for us to play
pretend."
I was split into tarnished silver
slivers for far too long,
After.
Exponential excruciation
A mind processing pain
that needs only be felt once
to be believed,
and I bled all those
who came close enough
to try and pick up the pieces.
I am welded back together now,
but there are smoking craters
I need to fill,
I think...
(therefore I will)
Though conspicuously tarnished,
even better still?
She and I together are now only
casual, cordial, and cool.
She and I together finally,
possibly,
learned the Golden Rule:
"Do unto others, as you would have done unto you"
It seemed cliche
until that day
When she and I together
Realized
we had nothing left
to say,
and with nothing left to do for
Her
But to give her heart away,
to the wild chaos freedom
she's always craved.
The chaotic wild freedom
of a world
that needs to be saved.
I craved it too,
back then,
the chaos, and the license to rave,
and I used to think it made
us strong, wise, and brave,
when all we really were,
were just
enthralled by shadows
On the walls of a cave.
It will help hearts
heal,
hers and mine together,
when we finally
walk away.
She and I still talk from time to time
When the wind is static
And the weather's fine,
When the moon is blue,
And the stars align.
When theres nothing to do
But to look back
and find,
She and I together, were never
very compatible,
in love,
yet far too compatible
in war.
Peace.
Aug 10, 2022
Aug 10, 2022 at 1:09 AM UTC
You were a cerulean boy with ocean eyes
A heart as complicated as the tides are high
I brought you home to watch an angel on tv
The sun was rising…you didn’t leave
I was an emerald man
With a broken plan
Oz in my heart, silly I know
A little sad and not of the clearest mind
Enraptured by you
My hopes were misaligned
///
A few days went by…
Things seemed good
A record played
Blue Film
Pasta
Wine
Fingers through hair
An invite to Christmas
Your mom wanted to meet me
Imagine that
Seems a little funny now
I picked you up from the airport
We tried on a hundred pairs of glasses
Took a cute photo by the bathrooms
How foreign now
Sick days in bed
I held a cool cloth to your brow
Ran my hands down your wet back
The fever broke while you slept
You sang countless melodies
Fingers on the keys
While I lay on the carpet
Quietly recording
Then there was the nightly routine
Superstore and cuddles
Laughter and jalapeño hands
****
You kissed my neck
Asked if it was good
It was good
So you turned away
You kept pressing your body against mine
Only to turn away
Over
And over
Again
I would wait until you were asleep to cry
In the bathroom
In the closet
In the dark
My heart was breaking
My mind confused
You looked lost
I felt used
An arbitrary argument over brunch
You put the car in park
We sat in silence
It was a little dark
Suddenly we are ending things
My tears start flooding
You were far away
Emotionless
That still stings
///
Lies like waves crashing on the shore
You’re so comfortable spewing them
Mold on blueberry cheese
A spore
A Scruffy “random play”
A Grinding “top”
A fake *** alt-identity
Hiding behind a screen
Stop
You didn’t see my gold
You couldn’t
I wanted you to try
You wouldn’t
I wonder if you’ll ever
Pull back the curtain and find
Your
True
Self
I hope you do
You deserve that
To be magic (again)
In December, I’ll remember
You
Your cerulean eyes
And our demise
Feb 23, 2022
Feb 23, 2022 at 12:55 AM UTC
From the beginning:
It’s a new year and I quit my job
**** it, I’ll never be good at serving
Directionless in 2013
January.
It’s unusually warm.
Your presence in the room is a rock in my shoe
You’re so cool
And I’m a mess.
Remember, you called me Heather in bed?
And I made you go home?
Well.
I forget.
Now we’re crossing the street
For your birthday, it’s your birthday,
Makers Mark, count ‘em, 2 ounces at a time.
Stacked up like unread texts and why don’t you like me’s
I don’t remember
But I’m probably crying
Flash in to outside
God it’s like 60
Deciding to go with you
Asking you to kiss me
(I had a long term boyfriend in my 20s
And his mother would buy me toilet paper for Christmas
The gift of hindsight is kind of like that:
Practical and helpful and a ****** of a gift)
Today is 9 years to the day
My parents know and they’re on their way
The nurse thinks I might be paralyzed
11 broken bones and two black eyes
This is the end of the beginning
Which is the easy part
I’ve never been able to write it all down
Spin it into art
Be warned, I can’t guarantee poetry
From a patched-but-still-leaking heart.
Jan 8, 2022
Jan 8, 2022 at 9:21 AM UTC
When you look
Back for clues
They’re all there
Like the smell
Of ozone
In the air
Correspondence
Sounded lame
Did you know?
But I saved
All those ones
Where you show
Me some skin
Close ups of
Sweet jade gate
Shall I send
Them to him?
He’s up late…
With your shirt
Lifted up
Showing skin
Teasing shots
Just to draw
Me on in
But each one
Silly face
Open mouth
Stupid look
(I see you’re
From the South)
Two where you
Call me up
From downstairs
I still recall
Such nice shots
Such blank stares
‘Cause you’d only
Want me when
You were gone
Drunk or high
On the pills
It felt wrong
To make love
With a girl, with
Special needs
Made me shrink
Made me turn
From the deeds
But next morning
Sobered-up
You’d be cold
Like that fake
Bill of goods
I was sold
Lies stretch back
Through the years
Now I see
There’s no love
From you dear
Only me
You’ve got the goods
The stuff I want
(Your *** was boss)
And the nicest
Set of teeth
I’ve *** across
Aug 25, 2021
Aug 25, 2021 at 12:59 PM UTC