No title… misc writing 

Every once in awhile I just start writing whatever decides to come.  There is no thought…always interesting to see what falls. 

It was a slip of folded paper
peeking from the edge of the book
she wonder the age of it
how long it lay dormant
between the aging pages
her fingertips touch 
the corner, slowly
unfolding the letter
her heart pounding
feeling electric as she 
began to read the faded 
At last you have found
these mere words scripted 
along with my last breaths tucked
into the intimacy of these folds.
Do not let them escape you
for it is meant to be 
that your eyes should glance
upon my final words 
if I calculated correctly
the year should be 2017
and its imperative that
you begin to remember

this vacancy of words

again I read
how empty the sound
a drip of pointless words
the vacancy of this space
my hands
my heart
even my hesitation 
a woman unloved; yes
you can see it
a dull sheen across my eyes
a poetess; perhaps I never am
no expansive wing spread
bare bone felled of all feathers
perhaps this is it
all that’s left of my writing 
where is my curvature of beauty?
I am dark lacquered
and stuck in similar words
I lay in ruination of feelings
all of my beautiful muses
vacated & condemned me…

I am lonely in
every breath

whatever falls to the page

Most of our life
we are alone

aloneness even comes in a room
full of others all alone

Yet some have a pair of hands that 
land softly in the early hours

And some will have lips that 
wrap around their skin

some have variety of options & sex at random with whomever

some have a  heart waiting 
for them at home

some live joyful without
some live sadly without

And then there are some
that HAVE IT All

and then there are some
that have NOTHING 

And then there are the rest 
such as me…

scrounging for love
left begging in silence

grasping air


I feel like deleting me
cut off from everything
and start over
Except I can’t delete my heart…
this human mind
brittle human condition 

no faith in anyone anymore 
all unable to give love of any kind

I am always lost in the nothingness 
never ever found a whole
It is the most loneliest feeling to wear a mask of living
when you only feel 
the death of something
that should have been more

I hate what I have become…

a never-mattered…

I feel the vastness
of little voids
all heart centered
I have opened myself
more than ever before
and with it comes
not quite the pretty spaces
they all have left a little piece behind
not even knowing its placement
nor care its potency or dissonance 
that is the darkest part of unfurling
fling wide your vulnerability 
step into the thicket of risk
endure diminutive fractures
absorb the wreckage of defeat 
vibration of ache
tearing me from the inside 
reaching to pull out each thorn
licking away the blood 
and then the elementals
brush across skin
broken skin to wounds
deep wounds to scars
dark scars remember
teardrops are their messenger 
scars rarely absorb 
never really fade
if ever disappear…
thread bare fingertips
press against my chest
so battle scarred & rough 
my feminity walks among storms
taking hits again & again 
leaves my entirety 
in a weakened state
and anymore 
as always in silence…

I am a