Mental Illness · sad · trauma · words

These white walls


Trudging along the hallways
Clad in a black coat, black top, black jeans, black shoes
The black shield intruding and swirling with the invisible red lines
The pleas to quell the voices in the head
The screams to get an answer to the chaos

Stark Continue reading “These white walls”

Love · Romance · sad · words


Like two limping lions we circle each other
Past mistakes palpable in the air
I can hear his silent blames
He can hear my silent begging to just be loved
We missed chances
We missed moments

Never speaking our minds despite the times we spend in each others arms
Whimpering and weary we eye one another
The gashing wounds from silent screams years before
Aware of how capable we are of decimating the other
We buried our voices
We bruised our egos Continue reading “Overlap”

abuse · Angry · sad · Sexual · words


It could have been hearing him brag to his friends, ‘he finally conquered the smart girl and slept with her’,
I feel myself curl in
Like a plume of smoke from a blast in reverse
Cracks elongate and sear my trust, leaving my disbelief in its wake

It could have been the admission that I trapped my parents dreams in a fleshy bubble of amniotic fluid,
I feel myself curl in
Like a plume of smoke from a blast in reverse
Lava flows over my drive like a feather, shinning me naked to my core Continue reading “Granite”

abuse · sad · words

Winged dark shadow companion

The cold odd presence stirs my instinct to run
The dark corner in my mind I cower in gets smaller
Huge and purposeful it marches
My body rocks, disconnected due to fear

Uninvited, the long wings scrape on the walls as the creature surveys its new surroundings
Delirious with panic, my mind recoils but the lock on the cell of trauma clanks Continue reading “Winged dark shadow companion”


Brett Kavanaugh and Bro Culture: Let’s Look in the Mirror

Watching the Wheels

Sept. 28, 2018

Judge Brett Kavanaugh and I are basically the same age. He’s almost a full year younger than me and a lot more bourgeoise. But the summer of 1982, we were probably pretty similar characters. He was hanging out at the country club in Deleware, and I was hanging out in punk rock bars in London. He was drinking a lot of beer at 17 and I was trying to be vegan at 18. But we were both teenage boys surrounded by Rocky images of masculinity and the patriarchal notion that God or the gods put all the world’s women on Earth for us to enjoy.


The difference is that I never tried to rip the clothes off of 15-year-old girls. My warped perception of male entitlement only went as far as envying the shower scene in Porky’s. I was sexually shy that summer, but he seemed…

View original post 832 more words