Fed up...



Hot tears rolled down her pretty porcelain face

Head bowed shamefully in disgrace

She felt a twinge of guilt she could not place

And when he took her hand, her heart began to race

He stared into her eyes and told her what she wanted to hear

That he would love and protect her, that she had nothing left to fear

He promised to be by her side; thick and thin throughout the years

He swore he wouldn’t be like the others who would slowly disappear

She swallowed all the lies and ate up the bullshit that was fed

No one ever seemed to care before, so she believed all that was said

She dismissed the doubt she felt inside and, so instead,

Lay sprawled with her legs spread wide across the bed

She sold her soul to him blindfolded by his words

He never let her leave the house, kept her caged just like a bird

Her sole purpose was to serve him, he was mad, it was absurd

She took it like a man and suffered beatings undeserved

Once more, as usual, he thrust her down upon the cotton sheet

This miserable girl who was unloved, so quiet and so meek

Was sick of feeling helpless, powerless, and weak

Slid her hands under the pillow letting her conscience speak

Her heart slowly dropped then quickened up its pace

Drenched in sweat her adrenaline began to race

She felt a twinge of guilt again she couldn’t seem to place

Finally fed up she cocked back and blew off the bastard’s face

The misery she felt within instantly erased

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I Pray


The fascination with people outside of ones self can be a dangerous distraction. I understand you now, Jack, cut them all out to bring yourself back…


Blocked blessings from having my head in the clouds. Opportunities knocking begging me to come back down to Earth. I floated too far away one day and stayed there drifting along: a prisoner to circumstance and sappy love songs. I’m sorry universe I know you want to see more from me, I didn’t mean to put the cycle on repeat I thought I was acting differently. And I was, but the outcome seems to be the same so what do I change? Something must be done or undone to set it straight. A brand-new take to unite me with fate. Instead of painful predictions proven right, bring me insightful surprises that inspire delight. There’s more than what meets the eye I know; more to believe than what I’m told. I need to pick up my pen and write my own chapter. To ensure I get my happily ever after. A tale to tell of marvelous things: of laughter and joy, and dreams that spread wings and soar. Here me roar! From rooftops to mountain tops there is no stopping me. Once I hop on that pearly paved path to destiny, I will face greatness. I have forsaken my purpose in the chase of temptations. The distractions deemed worthless, as nothing lies beneath the surface but curtness. I must get back to the mission at hand and listen to my true calling. Put on the blinders and prevent me from falling astray. For this is my wish so I pray. The rest of the pieces will follow someday.

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Fathers and Forgiveness


Forgiveness is one of the greatest gifts you can give yourself…


As a child my relationship with my father was practically non-existent. I mean, sure I saw him. Every other weekend as scheduled, but we did not have the bond that I only dreamed of having. Like the ones in the movies where the little girl runs into her father’s arms yelling “daddy!” whenever she saw him. Cuddling up to him while he jokingly warned her of the evils of boys and promising that he’d always protect her. I remember being so awkward around him that I didn’t even call him ‘dad’. I was so detached from that relationship that I was lost as to how to address the man that made me. Affection was something that pained my father to express, the discomfort of a hug or a kiss easily readable on his pale face. Crystal blue eyes grimacing at the slightest touch.

I resented his cold demeanor, his inability to connect with me, the fact that he would frequently toss me to the side to be left in the care of his horrid wife for years, until it welled up inside of me into this self-destructive ball of rage. And once it imploded all I knew was anger. The sadness I once felt as a child masked by the indignance of my bitter teenage self. I began feigning strength, pretending I didn’t care about him, acting as if none of it mattered when it was everything to me. His absence as a positive male role model plowing into my subconscious causing me to seek out that guidance from men in the streets. Never knowing that the choices I was making were directly correlated to what I felt I was missing from him.

Looking back, I can see how often I ended up drawn to the side of men that were just like him: uncaring, uncommunicative, and insensitive. I craved positive direction that none of them were able to give me and so I was steered down the dark path over and over again; being led astray by predators merely hunting for their next prey. Haunted by an overwhelming lack of confidence I stood stuck in the cycle of abuse naively believing that this behavior was the norm. That if I wanted to feel loved I would need to endure and overlook the less than noble characteristics presented to me. After all, who was there to show me any better? Exemplary males were unicorns from my perspective: not a single one in sight. Only fierce women facing persistent pain for survival until I became the same.

‘Helpless and hopeless’ should be the title of my teenage years. I had no faith in anyone to do any good. Not to me and not in the world. Not God, not my boyfriend, and most certainly not my father. I was irrationally irate towards the opposite sex yet irritatingly attached. Needy and pleading for someone to show me different. My teenage years withered away creating an unstable young adult. At 22 I graduated from college and my mom decided to throw me a graduation/birthday party extravaganza all in one to celebrate my accomplishments. I wasn’t exactly jumping for joy, just going through the motions with a snake for a boyfriend at my side beaming with feigned pride. The weight of all my trauma heavy on my shoulders, constantly carrying it around making it impossible to feel free or happy.

 My mom had invited everyone we knew: family, friends, and coworkers to come out and partake in the festivities. It was her way of making up for taking away my Sweet 16 when she found out I had been skipping school and getting bad grades. I thought it would be a pleasant surprise to hand out the 16 roses as would have would have been customary at my 16th birthday party. 16 roses: one to each person in my life who I felt helped me achieve my success or supported me in some way throughout the process. With it came the bright idea that this would be my moment. In front of all those people I would finally get to tell my father how I really felt about him. To call him out in a setting where he would have no choice but to listen and to make him feel just as insignificant as he made me feel my whole life.  

I was nervous, but I was deadest on my mission tired of holding in all my resentment to myself. I was ready to unleash my wrath upon him. To make an emotionally censored man cower in front of my very eyes. I typed up the speech and read it over every day leading up to the event letting the anxiety and angst fester in my soul and psyche’. The day of the event came, and I was dressed and ready to go, when suddenly it hit me. Like a truck. Why was I doing this again? The tortured tears of the hurt little girl I worked so hard to suppress bubbled to the surface pouring down my face like wretched waterfalls. She reminded me of my longing which made the rage fade to nothingness. The fury serving me no real purpose. I realized that I didn’t want to feel that way anymore and that making the speech would undoubtedly solidify the distance between my father and I, and that I would be throwing away the chance at my own happiness forever.

I turned the computer back on and rewrote the harsh words aimed at him. I turned my criticisms into compliments instead; commending him for being present in my life despite our differences. I acknowledged the fact that not too many people around me can say the same about their fathers. That he was pretty cool with my other siblings and I admired their relationships. I praised him for his attributes instead of attacking his deficiencies. For being fun-spirited and hard-working. For being there even if not exactly how I wanted him to be. And then I did something totally unexpected…I apologized to him. For never giving him any credit. The moment I spoke those words aloud to the crowd I saw that the look on his face (and many other faces) was of pure shock and awe.

 I could see him fighting back expression and the surprised look in his eyes made me understand how cold I had also been. In that instant I felt a light from deep down in the darkest parts of me shine. It was only then that I truly grasped the concept that forgiveness is not for the other person at all. Forgiveness is the greatest gift I have ever given myself because I had finally released myself of the burden of my resentment, blame, and anger. I was finally free, and it was a feeling so beautiful that words simply do not capture its essence. From that day moving forward my father began contacting me directly and we started developing a relationship that I value so much today. Of course, I have not forgotten everything I went through in his emotional absence, but I am immensely grateful that through forgiveness the little girl in me got her wish. And the adult me is living happily with her dad by her side.

Love you old man.

-Sincerely, your eldest daughter

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Parents and Punishments


A little insight into my life. Why I'm so strong and stubborn, and enduring of pain. It has been both my greatest strength and my biggest downfall. The reason I am the way I am, and it all started with my momma…


Your upbringing has everything to do with your current character. If you want to know why you are the way you are and why you behave the way you do, take a nice long look at your parents. Also consider the environment in which you grew up in for there are outside factors that influence us that even our parents cannot control. If you did not have present parents understand that their absence was just as impactful. Their lack of guidance effecting how you reacted to the world and the people around you. Similarly, the parental style of the parents you have in your life determines your abilities, coping skills, and ultimately defines your personality.

I, for one, consider myself to be a very strong and independent woman which I attribute to being raised by one. My mother was an extremely solid person in both her physicality and her presentation of her mental/emotional state. My brother and I like to lovingly (at the present point in time) refer to her parental style as a dictatorship. Describing our childhood as being punished harshly and judged critically for what she deemed as inappropriate or unacceptable behaviors. There were two types of people my mother constantly preached to us about that she could not tolerate: liars and thieves. And she did nothing less than…

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Keep It Real


Authenticity is key …

Fake it ‘til you make it? Right...until someone bursts your bubble bringing your bullshit to the light. Shattering the illusion of success forcing you to digress from plans of presumed power. Making you regress further back into your darkest hours. You can don a coat of confidence and put on airs of competence but what happens when the wind blows, and you’re  naked underneath? The vulnerability giving the people a peek at the fact that you’re weak. Your sudden happiness too far of a reach. Pardon your inadequacies and aim for actualities instead of masking your discrepancies with fallacies of finesse. Do your best and leave the rest for the birds pecking at the imperfect pieces you shed like bread, just try keeping it real instead. 

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Tornado Season

Whirlwind of sentiments, chaos around the corner...




Spiraling out of control

Spinning into madness

Tis the season to be bold

Yet stagnant from the sadness

A storm is brewing truth be told

A cyclone of raging badness

Eruptions of feelings new and old

Disastrous mix of drastic habits

Turbulence makes the stronghold fold

Losing strength, it’s hard to grasp it

Heated but the heart’s still cold

Tamed temperaments turning savage

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Nature Haiku's


The most precious living things on this planet are unfortunately the most disrespected and disregarded by human kind. We will pay greatly someday...



Obstructing nature

Depletion of resources 

Dying with the leaves


Wasted oxygen 

On undeserving creatures 

Human scum of earth 

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Do not allow others to trick you into thinking your dreams are foolish...the followers are the real fools. Define and achieve success for yourself…


Mindless mimes mimicking the masses

Machines managed by the minority

Manipulating the majority to maintain

Mediocrity and minimize the magic

Money a mirage for mind control

Masking the massacre of motivation

Making a mockery of self-made men to

Muzzle the meaningfulness of maximizing

Mastery of talents to make ends meet

Media morphing many to mummies too

Mortified to move; afraid to miss the mark

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Fruits of Lust


"Yum yum eat em up"…


Nourish me with love

Soak me at the roots

Designate a sacred space

Feast on forbidden fruits

Sweetness dripping down your face

Squeeze the peaches drink the juice

Nibble lightly on the cherry

Eat the berries become seduced

Suckle softly from the melons

Let the nectar make you loose

Bite the apple kiss the kiwi

Sugary essence reproduced

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Slaughter Sanity


There goes that complicated language again. Don't let it go over your heads…


Reality is subjective; reflective of perspective
Relative to the individual’s perception
And mental digestion of experiences
Not to be detected by the collective
Contention arising from rejected views
From dissected reflections corrected
With the intention of redemption
As if the mention of introspection
Is to be inspected and suspected
As signs of diagnosable insanity
The impression that the assessment
Is more important than the person
Placing limitations and expecting imitation
Of contemplation adjacent to the masses
Instead of fostering independent intuition
The affliction is in the addiction to be the
Same; what society deems as sane
Is, in actuality, a calamity of epic proportions
Abandon the distortions of reality
Imposed by society hiding behind simulated
Standards of stability and slaughter sanity
By being you and living your truth!


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Ink Love


As I lie on the table suffering; sacrificing flesh for the love of tattoos and the sake of art…


Agonizing art 
Breaking barriers
Creative carvings
Dig deep
Etched evermore
Onto Fiery fiends 
Gorgeous gore  
Happily hurting
Injecting ink
Joyful junkies 
Knife kisses 
Labors of love
Memory making
Noisy needles  
Obscene obsessions
Patronizing pain 
Quirky quotes
Raunchy rhymes
Slicing skin
Tortuous temptations 
Unusual urges 
Visual victories 
Wondrous work 
Xeroxed xenomorphs
Yielding yells from
Zealous zombies 


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Get yourself together baby. No one said it's going to be easy, but it's needed...



Scattered sentiments stem from insecurities. From being told ‘no’ when you really want a ‘yes’. From pretending the ‘no’ didn’t sting. Your heart sings for one, but your mind and body crave another. Trying to escape the past but constantly reminded of that lover. From the memories to the picture prompts you so frequently revisit; desperate to paint a different image of what once was and now is. You cannot rewrite history. It is what it is, now focus on what you want it to be. Lying to yourself about what is wanted versus what is needed, what is new and exciting compared to what is painfully repeated. Afraid of letting go thinking it means that you will fall yet falling prey to the lure of the familiar every waking day. Insanity is doing the same thing insistently and expecting the outcome to be different. Acknowledging the words of others but to your own subconscious you do not listen. It whispers wishes you directly choose to ignore. Satisfying others at your own expense based on false pretenses of future commitments from someone you adore but possibly abhors you. Ignores you.  Takes you for granted and simply does not accept you for who you are as you come. Constantly picking you apart until you become undone, so they’ve won. Walking away from the dismantled pieces seeking peace in someone else in return. You naively believe that the ‘no’ is soft and that someday you will break through to get yourself a solid ‘maybe’ from an ex, blocking off the next from giving you a ‘yes’ from the door. Energy depleted the moment you conceded to the notion that you’re undeserving of more.



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In the spirit of Halloween let's get mean...



Shattered glass when you laugh

The sound resounding in my head

Wishful thinking that you’re dead

Your presence a curse on this Earth

From birth worthless

You serve no greater purpose

I fail to see what she sees in you

I see a failure through and through

Your intelligence is questionable

Your demeanor undesirable

Your morality detestable

Your words are unreliable

Wholeheartedly hate your guts

Wouldn’t mind to see…

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Eternal Elevation


Take control of your mind and meditate, let your soul gravitate to the love, y'all" - Black Eyed Peas


Everyone serves their purpose in your life. Whether to teach you things you didn’t know about yourself or whether to confirm the things you do. When you approach life from this perspective it makes it much less devastating. When people leave it will not be interpreted as a loss, but a fulfillment of their purpose rather. When someone betrays you, it will not be viewed as a great injustice, but simply as an example of a persona that does not work well with yours. It will be life’s personal demonstration of how hurt people hurt people and how maybe you should stay away from like-minded individuals. After all, betrayal, rejection, abuse is rarely a reflection of you. People are seldom disloyal because you are underserving of loyalty, but because they do not know how to be. Or have been betrayed so much themselves that they, in turn, are untrusting and unfaithful.

Trauma can absolutely have a devastating impact on the human psyche’, however; it does not need to be the thing that breaks you. It can be the very thing that elevates you to a higher plane of growth and understanding. You may meet someone who will show you that despite your negative experiences there is good in the world. That there are people out there who…

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Drowning in Dread


Short story inspired by my very real, totally justified, phobia of fish in deep waters…


I opened my eyes only to be submerged in total darkness. My senses heightened as I tensed; ready for everything and anything that would dare interrupt the seemingly impenetrable cloak of shadow that lie thick before my sightless eyes. The deafening silence, the blinding blackness, and the odorless stench of pure foul fear only added to the feeling of impending doom. A scent that I wreaked of, absolutely drenched in dread. In an act of complete desperation, I lunged forward realizing at once that I was not alone. I stopped as abruptly as I had begun standing wide eyed and breathless. Eyes glued straight ahead of me in the thickness: not on anything concrete but focused, instead, on the slipping sound I had heard in front of me. My adrenaline pumped faster and faster with my heart racing along beside it.

A deep tranquilizing blue light slowly flickered on beside me as I jumped sharply to my right to gape at the glowing spectacle. More than twenty glass tanks lay stacked atop of one another in rows of four: all void of life but filled with water still. I swallowed hard and winced at the sight. No, I thought alarmed. Not one of these again. I shook my head pleadingly knowing all too well what was about to come. Blue lights began to flicker on all around me, shock sending me flying backwards on my feet. The presence I had felt in the room moments before stood mere…

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Love is a trip I have often missed…


I never get swept off my feet. I just trip, slipping on slick lines spit by cons too jaded to be just. I trust. Spoon fed sweet nothings blinded by cravings never getting enough, it’s a bust. I must, shake off the lust thrust the bullshit aside and call out their bluff. Level up. Hiccups and trip-ups sipping on empty promises filling up on false hope. Condescending, painting pictures of happy endings from beautiful beginnings I’m provoked so I choke. Over-consumption of bitter kisses from silky lips, unfulfilled wishes backed by half-assed gifts. It’s a miss. The connection failing the fakeness prevailing, so the love is derailed, and I find that I’m bailing once again. Left to fend off bad feelings of being unappealing the discord revealing weaknesses I bury inside. Vulnerability I try so hard to hide. The agony of being unwanted. Hungry for more than what is typically given, I’m constantly haunted. Left livid but living. Other chances to explore; to seek out my kind. To find sincere affection from a genuine mind.

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Alternative Facts


As entertaining as they are, they still pose a danger…


True ignorance is when you know the truth and still choose to ignore it to push your own agenda. I could never comprehend why people present their opinions as facts just because they want to make them so. All the will power in the world will not change what is real. This, my friends, are what we refer to as “alternative facts”. My grandmother is my favorite culprit. Since as long as I can remember she has been altering and structuring reality to suit her needs, and although it was a source of great confusion as a child, as an adult - I must admit- it is quite hilarious.

Long story short, we have a cousin who was suffering from throat cancer. Being a cigarette smoker herself my grandmother has always defended the filthy act chalking it off as “not that bad” and saying things like “at least I don’t do drugs” in her sassy Spanish accent. She also loathes marijuana for reasons unbeknownst to me besides the fact that…

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Bad Habits


Dope to cope...


Blood shot eyes on a pale face

Disgraced by displaced rage

Sinking at a steady pace

Too high to turn the page

Needles feeding freedom

Into bruised and battered veins

The euphoria misleads him

The disdain remains unchanged

Pitifully he wanders

Lost in the abyss

The poison keeps him sane

His ignorance pure bliss

Contempt too raw to handle

Mistakes attached to shame

His purpose to dismantle

All memories of pain

Skeletons no longer fit

Exposed by his bad habits

Etch-a-sketch erasing sins

Like they never happened

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The truth shall...


You’re a master of disguise the way you hide from your truth. Failing to realize that truth is no sucker. It does not like to be ignored. It will hunt you down and drag you into the light as everything eventually comes. You can try and fight it, but it will haunt you. Nightmares plaguing your sleep, guilt disturbing your waking thoughts. The more you push it off the more it tries to find a way in demanding to be heard. The noblest creatures will be blessed by its presence while the wicked cower at its sight. Unable to handle its power you run but you cannot escape fate. It will catch up to you, it WILL find you. Maybe not right now, maybe not even a year or two from now, but eventually and inevitably. I promise you. Even if you manage to dip and dodge it, and die a lie, the truth will meet you in the afterlife waiting for compensation. It always cashes in its checks taking them all the way to the bank never missing a deposit, raking in big bucks on authenticity. Live a life seeking it out instead of being chased by it or you will never know the sense of fulfillment. Find it before it finds you and it will indeed set you free.

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Mental Illness


Stigma can be more debilitating than mental illness itself. Educate yourself and spread the word in hopes for a more wholesome society…



The stigma surrounding Mental Illness is so great that some people reject the idea of its existence all together; unable to grasp the concept of something so abstract. Because there are little visible physical signs of the illness (especially in high functioning individuals) unlike when one has cancer for example (noted by hair loss, frailness, paleness, etc) the notion of someone battling unseen afflictions can be lost on the uneducated. The lack of education amongst people outside of the mental health field is vast creating a big disconnect between the clinically diagnosed and the “worried well”. The divide only serving to continue the trend of misunderstanding and mistreatment.

Regarding individuals with mental illness as more than just their illness wasn’t practiced until around the 1960’s when the deinstitutionalization movement began, and long-term psychiatric institutions were pushed to shut down. Before then they were treated as nothing more than society’s biggest rejects, tossed into asylums to be kept away from “normal” civilians. Even after deinstitutionalization mental health professionals approached treatment of such persons from a ‘medical model’ aspect performing all kinds of inhumane…

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