Self-Destructive Behavior

Merrily flinging myself into this fire.

And I really don’t want to stop.

I seem to enjoy a good downward spiral

Way too much.

Just trying to write my way outta this funk. Or possibly write my way in deeper.



I’m just going to lie here

In my bed

And stare up at the ceiling,

Trying to remember the stars.


I can honestly say

that no place feels like home to me.

I finally understand it now.

My roots won’t grow in rooms,

now matter how much light they get,

however beautiful or humble they may be.

My roots can only grow

in the connections I feel

with the people I love.

How lucky I am

to know this simple truth

about my own soul.

Not-Love Poem

When you’re no longer in love,

For whatever reason,

You have a look about you.

That starved look.



A look you do not perceive.


For affection.

For love.

Oh, honey,

He just wants to make love

To your bones.

The spaces in between.

That you’re saving

For someone special. Continue reading

Pictures (and words)

Hey all! Long time no publish a poem. :-/

I moved inland recently, and without my beloved lake I just haven’t been inspired to write lately. It sucks. I’ve been working on another dream project instead: photography. I’m hoping to supplement my income with my art.

Here’s the latest offering:



If you’re curious, everything I’ve got for sale is under the Photography tab in my menu. I add something new pretty much every week. Hope you enjoy!


No longer

Can I be the woman

who sits at home and waits.

Slowly turning into a skeleton

as my ambitions waste away.

Waiting for you.

I am more than bone.

I am blood and fire

And flesh.

I promise you this:

I won’t forget that fact again.


Opus 2017 (A Love Letter)

I cannot in good conscience leave this poem above the cut. It gives the most in-depth account I have ever shared about my final suicide attempt. While I (obviously) chose not to go through with it, it was a very close call. If you’re feeling hopeless, please call for help. Here is the number to the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-8255. Please call them. Please stay with us. Now, my final poem of 2017: Continue reading



they call me.

It’s a nice word,


It elides right over the chaos

depression made of my life.

Makes the electric shitshow

of  coping mechanisms

and bad decisions

Sound like a beautiful transformation.


I am a fucking butterfly

and all those tears I shed

over men and heartbreak

were my liquid chrysalis.

And not a mental health crisis.


Emerging from the darkness.

Emerging into the light.