Doorknob Bruise

For a long time you were my hero,
You fought the monsters under my bed
You fought the voices inside of my head
You even fought the bad guys away from our home

But I saw your demons inhabit your soul
I saw them take the liquid form
Damaging everything you were before
Succumbing to their bidding

Not once you laid a finger on her
Not the woman you claimed you adored
The mother of your children
The one constantly waiting for you while holding down the fort

But you demons fueled your anger
Fueled the selfishness within you to want more
Than all you had to be grateful for
Made you chase the more away from home

But not without dousing our home with gasoline
Making sure to use the propellant to aid your escape
From everything you worked to build and create
With her

She wasn’t an angel, and played devil’s advocate
Her fair share I’m sure of it
But she was sick, and was of pure intentions
You were her one and only object of affection

The day you packed up and left
I remember your prized possession wasn’t me, wasn’t us three, instead
You had us haul out your computer and devices
All electronics all scattered on our porch

They valued much more to you than us
Three breaking kids, mediocre at best
You’d rather us experience
Our mother’s wrath and brokenness instead

I couldn’t believe the result of your final exit
Outside the home you built and created
Ended with filling our small bodies
With fear unlike any other.

That day I thought she would die
I thought the poignant smell of bloodlust
Would actually manifest into her lifeless body
Resting on your hands

And all I could do was become numb
Freeze and remain useless
As she shrieked at us to get help from a neighbor
Any neighbor

Only the smallest of us was brave and tried in vain
Her tiny body getting flung across the room by an unfamiliar angry giant,
Made me stone, useless, unwavering, cold

I’m grateful that all that resulted
From your monumental fall from being my hero
Is your choice of using the door which you’d walk out of our home with
As the device to break her arm when she tried to escape your blacked out state of rage

God saved us from you and your abuse
That day
All my mother got was a nasty doorknob bruise.





Insomnia Part 2

My mind is restless battling a heavy load
Information that I can’t make sense of

Insomnia is right at home here
Edging my sanity slowly further

Hallucinations from the sleep deprivation
Roam around my home taunting me

Paralysis happens more than frightening
More than dehibiltating my body
But makes me have the epiphanies
About how helpless and futile I can be

How pathetic I am weighing the thoughts
In my head
As if my conclusions will make any difference at all in the world

In my world

No differences will be made externally
To make my life better or worse

All the inevitable conclusions can lead to
Is my anger and confusion evolving into hate

Maybe it’s the sleep deprivation

Maybe I can come to terms to accept all the blame on myself
Like I’ve been accustomed to
Like I’ve been groomed to do

My duty
Sacrifice my sanity for survival
For love
If that is what it’s called now
Fulfilling expectations

Maybe I’m just tired
Maybe I’ll give up and just succumb



Dimples of Venus

Growing up I was often complimented on
My back and how it looked strong,
How my shoulders were broad
For a girl.
It always perplexed me because sometimes
The compliments felt back handed
Because I am a girl.

Almost like my femininity was now diluted
When I came into adolescents.
Instead of larger breasts and a thinner waist
From my curvature announciating my hips,
My back was the part of me noticed most.

I was strong when I was a little girl,
Able to keep up with the boys in a game of football, soccer, tag.
In my bouts of moods where solitude was bliss,
I’d roller blade around my neighborhood,
And climb up the tallest trees,
Venture the empty play grounds of my school,
Entangle myself in clusters of bamboo trunks and palm tree leaves.

Coming home there was a steep slope, And I wiped out
Completely while roller blading.
Luckily wearing a helmet, other wise I’d been knocked out.
My parents told me
my back and thick boned frame is what saved me.
Falling out of trees, rowdy horse play and wrestling with the boys, crashing on my bike,
They’d always tell me to just dust it off because I was no weakling.
I am not allowed to cry because I am a rock,
Solid, with thick bones,
A strong back, and broad shoulders.
I can handle the pressure and the weight of things.
Don’t cry.

My first year of college I learned to manage a long board,
It was my favorite mode of transportation.
Whimiscially I was cruising through my empty campus on a Sunday.
Basking in my solitude, up to my old exploring ways
When this cute guy flashed me a grin
While I rolled on by
I wiped out harder than I had ever before,
Because now my pride scraped across the cemented walk way,
Right next to my body that glided along the ground with exponential momentum,
Like the shadow that has its own personality in Peter Pan.
All I could do was giggle it off and run away quickly
Before my face could imprint on his memory.

I thought that may have been then most embarrassing moment up to date,
But then the next week I wiped out on asphalt,
Tore my favorite jeans
Right at the knees
Running late for a lesson in the fine art of music.
I grabbed my board and ran,
Bloody knees and hands,
And rushed into the practice rooms
That were painted in all white,
Floor, ceiling, walls.
The contrast came from the grand black piano in the center of the room,
But also now contrasted against the crimson droplets
That trailed in after my abrupt arrival.

My teacher asked if I were okay
And I replied, of course, I have thick bones.
I reserved to myself that I also have a strong back.

It’s funny how instead of appreciating my back for what it is.
How it has served me all these years,
I just want the Dimples of Venus too.
I want to be strong but also feminine.
I want someone to not just dust me off and tell me I’ll be fine because I’m strong,
I need someone to tell me it’s okay to cry for my own woes,
That it is beautiful to emote things that were deemed signs of weakness in my childhood.
I want to feel okay to feel.
To have my person hold me there,
Where the Dimples of Venus would be if I had them.

Instead, whenever I wipe out,
My body smeared across the hardest possible elements
I just giggle it off from the embarrassment
And retreat to exploring the world around me solo
To avoid the expressions of others in response to my clumsiness.




I lay here staring at the slow spinning fan
Feeling nothing but my bed sheets
Against my bare skin
With the sensation of cooling
Drifting down from above me
The only sensation I have felt in a while is

As liberating as it is
To slumber in the buff
To feel the independence and freedom
Of stretching out in a king size bed
One inescapable feeling
Is the space next to me that could fit a human is

My emotions are like that of water
Under certain circumstances
My mood can shift to mirror
The temperatures of my environment
Lacking another human to hold me close
My sentiments for most things these days are



Young Love

There was a girl whose eye was caught
By a devilishly handsome young fellow.
She was a person who appreciated pretty things
For what they were.
“People are like flowers” was her sentiment
Although others would poke fun at her thoughts.
He was beautiful to her.
His symmetry, his tone, his spirit.
The greatest friend she’d ever have.
Out of her league was he,
He who was strong in mind and body,
Opposite of her,
Who already was considered damaged goods.
Under random circumstances
He decided to stick around
And a friendship flourished into more.
Unfortunately for him, her toxicity was too great,
Levels that would destroy him if he stayed.
She loved him deeply, deeper than anyone she allowed herself to get close too
Deep enough to let him get familiar with the way she ticked
Too deep, which grew into obsession, and dependency, and ugly
He had no choice but to leave.
She realized then she was no good for him;
She didn’t deserve his heart, bare soul, his love.
It was a privledge to experience it with no restraints just for enough,
After all he was her first love.
And you know what they say about firsts when adolescent emotions are so raw and amplified.
So she let him go hoping that his first love could be what he deserved,
An infinite amount more than what she was.




Death sometimes isn’t instant,
Like the permanent, yet instant result
Of jumping off the top of a 12 story building.
Sometimes it’s slow.
Slower than the rate illness and disease
Can craddle you to the grave.
It can be slow,
Like how a simple cut can become infected
And how that little infection can evolve
Into the loss of tissue, the loss of nerves,
Which can evolve
Into decay.
Decay is like the slowest moving form
Of cancer, which can rapidly encompass
Everything vital to you to keep you alive.
The thing about decay,
Is that there is no going back.
Once the rot settles on the flesh
In the body,
Settling and seeping deep into the bones,
It will be game over.
A slow death,
Like that of a fatally injured victim
Trying to crawl away from the inevitable.
Sometime I wonder why I remain
In decaying situations
Knowing no matter how I try to better myself,
How I try to change to accomadate others,
Regardless how much of myself I give,
Decay only spreads.
It is silent and slow spreading
So slow that it’s inconspicuous
Enough to surprise you.
One day you wake up,
And when your eyes open and you look around,
You are a few breaths short of suffocating
In the coffin you now lie in
With the decision to use those last breaths
To break free,
Or to conserve and savor those last moments
For what they are.
I suppose I’m just a glutton for punishment.
Even though I know there is no remedy
To this circumstance,
I don’t have a lot of options to choose
That are without consequences.
I’ve always said being stuck is just a mindset,
But maybe all this time I was wrong.



Home (Song Prompt for October)

I belong from no place in particular,

A modern day gypsy soul,

Just a wanderer.


Along my way I have randomly encountered

What fills the void, the hole,

A fellow traveler.


I don’t believe this was by chance.


It was our fate that you and I

Found this rekindling

Of old souls, from past lives

Searching for all this time

For their home away from home.


Every time I find my way

Back into your domain

I feel like I’m returning home

Regardless the constant change in place

The peace you bring me

From afar, your traveling sanctuary

Captivates me to want to stay

For my eternity.


I look forward with hopeful eyes

That one day I’ll be your home

Just as you have settled me

My aimless vagabond soul.


No matter how far I wander solo

Loosing myself down foreign ways

The light you keep on for me every night

Leads me back home to you always.




I Hear a Train in the Distance

I hear a train in the distance
A low, slow, long sound
Warning anyone, anything trying to cross the track
I glance at my clock and see the digits three, four, and seven glowing in the darkness
I lay my head back onto my pillow
To face the darkness between my body and the ceiling
Insomnia wins again it seems
My hands are clasped together on my chest
Feeling my own slow and steady breath
Maybe tomorrow when my mind and body are fully awake
I can appreciate and thank God that I’m at the very least
Still breathing.




Body Dysmorphia Part 3

I’ve been dreaming of myself
Partaking in wild adventures
I wake up smiling
To the images I remember
Of being courageous,
Limitless fearlessness
My beauty extending outwardly
Where even I’m feeling the breathlessness

My hair dark, long, and accentuating me
Like always
But smooth, every strain in it’s place
My skin flawlessly a caramelized honey
Invisible pores, my eczema leaves no trace
My lips supple and thick
My eyes large, round, and passionate
My figure is that of Athena, her grace
Strength in every limb,
Elongated and lean body that doesn’t seem foreign
Because it’s mine, and I own it
My curvy hips, lean waist, and bountiful bossom
Blossoms beautifully before a sunrise
Me standing there with a smirk of pride
I am tall, graceful, brilliant, and proud
Of this version of me
How desperate I am to be her
The girl towering over the clouds.

But then,
The trickle of the day begins to filter into my brain
And my smile fades into my reality,
I am not her quite yet.

Maybe when I become her
A certain level of fulfillment will find me
Maybe then
the object of my affection can deem me worthy
Maybe then
He’ll be able to finally love me
Whole heartedly
With no constraints
Maybe then my inner beauty
Will be a compliment to my body
Maybe then
I could be free and unrestricted
When I love
When I fuck
When I speak and think and be
The only thing I’m certainly unrestricted of
Is my ability to dream.