Inspiration, Poetry



When you serve up love’s tall order.


When we approach the cosmic border.

How many lives do you care to live with me?

We come, we see, we conquer,

Co-sign my darling valentine,

Because we’re destined to push love’s limit by 2 or 3.

On love’s aromatic ambrosia we will dine.

Cuz this love’s divine.

Cuz our love’s so fine.

Our circle of love knows one curl.

This love puts me on nine.

And this love’s all mine.

Just as smoke belongs to the unfurl.

My Dark Place

Celebrating 24 years of life.

With every birthday, with the exception of Jehovah’s Witnesses, comes the celebration of your life. My birthday this past Thursday (June 20th!) was no different. I went to bed Wednesday night and woke up Thursday morning with equivalent excitement. From the moment I opened my eyes, I had an uncontainable air of downright glee. My boyfriend said that he had 3 surprises for me from the hours of 9 – 12, I had an appointment at the hair salon for noon and I was planning a road trip for my family reunion. Everything was going oh so right! Until…I made the decision to be unhappy.

Things started going wrong when:

  • My bf got called in to work, and we couldn’t celebrate all weekend together the way we’d envisioned we could.
  • I didn’t get to see my mom.
  • I calculated just how dead freaking broke I am with $12K in credit card debt and counting. Why was I going on vacation again?
  • I was feeling like a failure when I realized my Kickstarter campaign wasn’t going to achieve the goal.

The thing about depression is, even the most trivial of thoughts for some (what I like to call the “neutral minds”) are augmented to the 20th level for depressed people. Quite literally, one bad thought can escalate to 10 in a matter of miniscule moments. And then there you are in your dark place and feeling lost. Wondering how the hell a perfectly capable person like yourself could completely lose it to a series of unfortunate and evil thoughts?

But it happened. On this weekend, of all weekends! Then, in my celebration angst, I decided to engage in the spirits! Not the smartest move. Alcohol, in any amount, can only exacerbate the problem. I was growing more and more melancholy. When my bf finally arrived after 2 days of drinking and binge eating, I was a weeping willow of sadness and despair. During every minute of the first 10 hours we were reunited, I was constantly hovering between a face full of tears or those inconsolable post-tear wimpers.

I was fucked up.

It only got worse once my bf joined my family and myself. At this point I was in a really painful position. I wanted all the quality boo time in the world, but also wanted to spend time with my family. After only a few hours of trying to make everyone happy, my already ticked off brain went ape shit and I had one of my worst melt downs. Ever. It was not cute. I was snappy and just wanted to sleep and withdraw from the prying eyes of people that don’t understand depression. Instead, I compromised with everyone and kept drinking. And overeating. Not my finest moments.

Is this what every birthday is going to be like? In an effort to feel more like a grown up and more mature, I have a meltdown? I think I need to stop seeing my life as a race. With the threat of each additional year of life, I feel like I’m behind and like I need to catch up. This past weekend was sad for me because I realized that I was trying to please everyone else, but  while doing so, I let go of each intention to please myself.

To my family it probably seemed that either my bf was physically abusing me or that I was bat-shit-crazy. I assure you, neither is true. I’m just at that struggle point where we all find ourselves eventually:

If the goal is happiness, why am I not happy? If happiness is a choice, why do I allow myself to choose everything but happiness? And if I eventually do find the strength and courage to make the choice to be happy, will I truly be happy? Is it really that simple??

For about 30 minutes on Saturday, I had a really deep chat with my grandfather and boyfriend on the subject. Both men, very wise beyond their years — yes, my 72 year young g-pa was probably one of the wise men in a different life– were both very encouraging. But my depressed mind couldn’t see that. And even after our conversation, I just wanted to keep living in my despair.

Fast forward to tonight — 3ish days after my birthday, and wtf did I really do for myself in celebration of my 24th? Absolutely nothing.

And that’s just fucking sad.


Our Love

I know you’re the one. Aren’t you appalled?
Why are you always so cool? Like you were already involved.
You cuddle me so hard. Your scent the scent of man meat.
You tickle me too hard. Your long fingers a quick release.

I feel the world spins when I’m with you. Aren’t you enthralled?
Why are you so true? Like this isn’t a Paul.
We drag and drop away to bliss.
Oh what freshness is this.

The vibe is set and you’re the truth. My eyes are set, we’re good.
We babble on and on an on, like the inability to end a poem.
We drag and drop until we dismiss.
Oh, what spottieottieidopaliciousness is this?


Use Me

Trust me. Love me. I need you around.
Touch me. Lose me. She needs this.
Would you believe me if I said I’m in love?
Or would you turn away the dove?

I need you to trust me. This is my first time around.
I need you to touch me. She needs this loss.
I know you believe in this love.
Or do you only believe in the above?

Don’t trust me. I don’t need the shame this time around.
Don’t need you to touch. She doesn’t need be lost again.
Don’t believe in love.
Don’t believe in this love.


Freeverse poetry

Don’t waste this high
We’re too far up for us to go back to life
How can we look down when I’m looking at you
You give me life, I can feel the changes.
I can feel the dangers. Even a small lighter burns a bridge.
I can’t feel the gains. We’re too elevated.

Don’t waste this time.
We don’t have too much left don’t burn this bridge.
How can you look away when I’m dead in your face.
I thought I gave you life, that you could feel the changes.
You can see the faces. You can see the lives of the famous.
You feels the lows. We’re lost through the famous.



We’re just beach bums,
falling, yowling, howling, tumbling
To the place where we once grew.

She’s just my beach bum,
patrolling, holding, folding, my tumble,
To the place where she once knew.

They will beach bum it, too–rowing, mowing, towing, my nimble,
To the place where they’re so new.