today i

looked in the mirror

and saw my july self

bright rosy cheeks

and curly hair

and i remembered my january self

with limp ragged hair

pale and tired

hating myself the minute i wake up

how i wish i could stay in july

and freeze time

today i felt tomorrow

rearing its ugly september horns

i feel the fire in my soul leaving my body

little by little, as if i’m exhaling out pieces

it shakes my chest and burns my tongue

leaving nothing but a cold ball inside

if i can’t have it exactly the same

all i ask is that it be better.

this is the last week of my life

i saw the dark circles in the reflection of the window where my eyes were supposed to be

my body already physically aware of change

like an anxious animal before a storm

i saw in today

the workings of tomorrow

rushing in faster than i can grab it

like trying to catch a fish with my bare hands

i am leaving my home

that i never grew up in



i opened that door

and my lungs collapsed

seeing him in civilian clothing

i in my uniform

only made it more real

adieu, adieu

she’s going too

standing in the parking lot

with her black jacket

and my blue melted heart in her hands

my brain was frozen that day

with what happened

with what could have been

with what should be

we’re responsible for them, they said

the words bouncing in my tennis court mind

mumbling an “i’ll see you later”

even though we both know

when that will be

turning around and walking out

not looking back

my fire turning to ice

they treated them like animals

like tigers in a cage

ravenous and uncontrollable

is what they will be remembered for

sitting on the hard stone

until my blood ran cold

and the lampposts turned on

signaling the end of the day for many

and the end of a paradise

for me


i sit at the edge of the window

so dizzyingly close to the glass i feel i might tip over

and exhale my warm breath into gritty sands

that bend and crack, adjusting to my weight

looking up at night

and seeing the constellation’s constant revelations

to me, and i think about

waterfalls, sliding down over rocks

their banks clustered with shamrocks and shiny green ferns

trees opening their hands, exposing their organs to

unsuspecting hummingbirds with needle thin beaks

feeling the warm puff of my cat’s soft pink nose

as he leans against me, his cheek to my arm

rumbling his sleepy melody into the curve of my elbow

oblivious to the complexities

his owner must untangle

the cold slips into my stomach and stops my throat

leaving me in a tundra of frozen desires and destructions

watching as i grind my hand so hard on asphalt

that my skin unfurls its

lovely crimson dew

like droplets on a leaf.

i may not know much

i may be human

but simplicity is my felicity.

urban beach

i have a love-hate relationship with road trips

i hate the cramped-sardine feeling i get in the car

suffocating me enough that i must

curl up in a ball

my nose bumping into the hollow of my knee

in an attempt to pack my body in as much as possible

i hate the waiting

my eyes jumping and skipping from one hay field to the next

watching lazy cows graze in the summer heat

and birds taunt me with their winged freedom

flying close, close

then flitting away, like they’re afraid

i will reach out and drain them of their liberation

like water from a sponge

but i love road trips too

i love the gentle lull of the wheels on the highway

with the occasional soft thump from holes

are the waves on my beach

i love looking at welcome signs and feeling relief

that to some people, this is home

while i am a willing stranger

they know every back road

every turn or imperfection of their town

i love that we coexist gladly

and they are the unknown tourists on my beach

i am very grateful to them

i love that they do not know my name

and are in that crowded backseat with me

on my road trip


why can’t you just get out?

why can’t you just get out? i screamed on that stage

feeling my hands rub together with the friction of my audience

my audience that had been waiting for me for fifteen years to speak up

to describe to them

just how deadly

my silence can be

feeling oddly calm from my stomach to my feet

rolling my hearing aids around in my hand

rolling my tongue around in my mouth to avoid a deaf accent

it felt so liberating

because just this once i ceased the chatter

shoving cotton down their throats

so that even if they tried to speak, their mouths were sewn shut

you could hear a pin drop

could hear their hearts stop

breathlessly drinking my victories and my failures

watching me become a single person

stretching my voice out all the way to the back

to envelop them in a sense of discomfort

i’ve never felt so light

and so burdened

at the same time


some days i know for sure when i am angry.

muscles clench from strained hands

and my patience wears to a thin sheet of ice

my heart pounds with a driving force

so strong i fear it will beat out of my chest

but some days

i do not know

i took the time last night to whisper

“i am not first” into the breath of night

until my mouth was numbed by sleep

and my brain was dumbed by words

i took the liberty of

staring at a nearby tree

its green leaves blurring into a taunting mock

at my silent overreactions

because sometimes

self care is a visitor

knocking on my door with an iron fist

i told myself i must evade thoughtless whispers

and stroking my face with cold hands

i took away from it all

the empty slight feeling of


trying to create something

that did not want to be brought into fruition

hopefully someday i can take into consideration

the amount of worth i really need



are you mad at me?


i’m mad at how i feel

how i got wrapped up in a flurry of dreams

turning to glitter when i wiggled my hands

seeing the sky tinged with pink

floating up to reach the ripples shimmering in the dusk

stars sprinkled like salt, scattered all throughout

smelling the fresh cut grass and immersing my face in it

the prickly stubs gently nicking my face

the pink satin feel of the cherry blossom nuzzling my cheek

imploring me to come home

this morning, the water coming from my face was sweat

of hard work, feel-good hormones

darting away from what i knew was right


the water coming from my face are just tears

having come crawling back

to face reality

knowing there are things

i can never do for you

things i can never quite reach

i suppose i’ve accepted it

i know my shell will become too small for you

and you will leave soon to find a bigger one.

it’s not because my shell isn’t pretty enough,

or that it’s cracked or anything,

you just want to see how

the bigger shell feels

leaving me alone

as everyone does


once again

i find myself alone in my element

today, i walked the junction of three roads

and i saw the silver tongue of a mermaid spilling out

its sharp exhale of untold secrets

wrapping its barbed mouth around my wrist and

pulling me along, digging its

points into my human flesh

sometimes she would smile at me

and i would smile back, only to get a sneer and a scream

like nails on a chalkboard

my sigh is whispering over those

that gargle with colored mouths

especially in the girls dancing in the street

with their rainbow scarves

and flowing dresses

pounding at her embroidered tambourine

hoping to create

the safe space we all talked about so much

i observe people like her every day

since i struggle to be one

and i watch the steady thump of their feet as they run

curling their heel up

and tightening the muscles

to find their safe haven

the problem is

i know my safe haven but

to get to it

i must first endure the personal tourture


being so in sync

yet so separated

amidst all of the chaos reigning thick amongst me

if you’re going through hell

keep going she said to me

in the pale watery bathroom

crying into my worn maroon sweater

clenching the bear trap in my jaw

smiling slightly at the flower tree in the alumnae garden

feeling like i always need to paint away my sorrows

these roses had no thorns

yet for some reason

i have been nicked

my waist being urged up

but my heart being pushed down

save for some special occasion

i realize,

if we did not have what we had today

if the roles were reversed,

would it be the same?

my chest being dug out by a pointed shovel

planting weeds growing solid and intertwining

suffocating me and my infant i hold in my brain

wishing the sun would harvest

some sort of steadfast happiness

i am in flood now

waters over pouring into others

not even Noah’s Ark can save them

from the inevitable danger they must face

if you’re going through hell

keep going he said to me

as i wrenched out a daisy from my veins

and offered it to him, bloody and gut stained

from misuse

funnily enough

my family has less in common

with these people

trying in vain

to see the vine of connection

between us

seeing only

the drought

of a thousand summers

Create a free website or blog at

Up ↑