Where Is She Coming From?

Her eyes,
Widen at a subject that she wishes she could just forget.
Her neck,
Her pulse raises,
After every text she gets.

All we do is lie,
All we do is think of the feelings that we hide,
All to protect our made up pride.

California was never meant for me to call home,
California was never supposed to be home,
Even after I saw the glisten in your eyes after you would listen.

His laugh traces down her each one of her vertebrae,
As she’s climbing her way up from the hurricane they both put her in.
There are days if she questions if she will win.

Her mother is in the wind.
Her mother gives her the waves of strength to climb harder and longer.
She remembers she is her mothers daughter.

All we do is climb,
All we do is try and avoid the cracks that was suck us through, as if we were made out of slime.
All we do is…

California was never home for her,
Cali was not meant for a girl of her wisdom and standard.

There’s a place deep down in Stanford,
Where a girl lives behind books.
She dreams of all her accomplishments.
That seems so attractive…

What if I told you I would break your heart?
What if I told you I past demons that made me mean?
What if I told you I had that my past has to power to rip your mind apart?
That is why solitude fits me like a glove,
What if I told you I was just bad at love?

Maybe you should stop before you start.
Maybe you could see that I’m just too young to love…

You ought to know where this is coming from,
I stood alone while I watched my home burn to the ground.
All of the pieces were burned and gone.
Do you see where I’m coming from?

What if I said I was built on carelessness and crumbs?
What if I told you that I once loved a substance that would make me feel so numb?
What if I told you, I would be gone before you…

You out to know where this is coming from,
I saw my home burn and gone,
I was so, so young.
Do you know what it’s like to be without a home?
You, he or him couldn’t turn me away from the blows you all took at me.
When your so alone,

No one knows where you are coming from.

The Princess and The Yellow Brick Road

Don’t think I don’t remember the pain that embedded itself into every one of my membranes.

Don’t think that I still have to shut off my head because certain memories sound like a shot gun instead.

Don’t think I don’t have those intimate evenings that flash themselves so vividly, it feels like some nights I’m still in your bed.

All those messages unanswered,

Might have been unread.

Should I inform you on how badly my body bled.

Physically, I needn’t state it, obviously.

Internally, from all those words that you said.

Or should I say screamed?

Flash forward to present day and I can honestly thank you for teaching me my strengths.

I’ve been through hell and back,

But what the hell was one more trip?

There were to many unfortunate reminders of the way you could only grab my hips.

Bruise my lip.

Remember when I showed you to unlock that trick?

With all rhymes aside,

I for a awhile had already decided to grow from an experience that was paved as a beautiful yellow brick road.

I thought I had kissed a prince but now I see he was nothing but a rotten toad.

Now I am a woman of her own,

That paves her own road.

And while at times it gets lonely and scary,

I am thank for all the

Clarity.

Girl On Fire

Just one kiss,

And you’ll be hooked to her fire.

Its an experience that can’t compare,

Too any drug you may think gets you higher.

She is art,

She may be ripped at every edge,

But shes a masterpiece.

She has no idea the chaos she causes,

But it always turns out to be the most beautiful chaos one will ever see.

Just one spark and she can bring anyone back to life.

Just wait and see….

When she takes flight there’s no one there to stop her.

Her ashes are burning,

Her ashes are smoking.

There’s no where for her to hide.

In this fire that burns inside her it ignites a starless night sky.

Even though shes on her own,

She knows shes never on her own.

There’s two bodies in the sky,

That look down and produce her light,

That she calls her own.

So here’s a poem from her heart,

There is no such thing as home sweet home,

For she knows that her trauma is how she has grown.

She questions why her reflection looks like a complicated objection.

Her heart needs to be free,

Too fly.

It burns,

With the need to know,

The reason why;

She was held under a fist, knife, and body.

She once used to run and hide until her memories faded away.

But she realized that she needn’t waste her genius mind.

As a writer,

Shes an automatic fighter.

She told them all to stick it.

Shes burned since she was born,

She only cries a little bit before she dries her eyes,

Because this woman on fire isn’t a little girl anymore.

Chemical Cocktails

Its interesting that the only interest in early twenty teens is experimenting with brain chemistry.

I haven’t seen some of you sober for more than a week.

That just makes you look weak.

Let me speak,

I know what its like to get a whiff of a toxic antidote,

Even when you fuck with coke, it won’t make you stay woke.

Even if all you do is toke, you still look like a joke.

Its interesting the way how I see things,

Everyone feels the need to pop out a baby or be given a ring.

What happened to being in our twenties?

What happened to discovering ourselves?

I’ve been the most independent I have ever been in my entire life;

Which makes me think,

“Shit, I don’t want to be anyone’s wife”.

But that’s just a 21 year old me thought.

Love felt like his knife to my throat,

He fucked everyone but me,

So I know he thought of us as a joke.

And when he left me on the concrete floor,

Cold New Years night,

I don’t want this shit anymore.

You spat in my face I’m a whore-

When really I hit my books to help me soar.

You lied to me like a religion,

But wouldn’t lie with me unless I gave you Christian Dior.

But you still called me a whore?

What a mother fucking bore.

You think you are better now?

Honey, you are behind bars,

You only say that cause I’m not around.

I got tired being projected as a clown, my frown used to hold to pieces gravel you smeared my face into.

There’s nothing that you can undo.

You never did,

Never will,

Have a clue.

I’m working on an empire that needn’t the burden of a bloodsucking vampire.

I tire of childish games, they are so lame now-a-days.

While some of my generation is stuck in play; I’m in a hyper-drive to improve my life.

A word of advise,

Once you stop viewing the worlds opinions, you stop being a minion.

It’s independent.

It’s scary,

Only a first.

But,

You realize,

You quench a thirst for independence and freedom,

Some, may have not ever realized they needed.

Nightmare Passing

What I saw is true,
That if I couldn’t screw,
You would have never manipulated yourself into my bedroom.
I had been standing there for two years
And I hate that I question why I should have gone with the right thing but got caught in the left hook of your thorn ridden wing.
A disaster passed down to that guy who never lied.

Oh, do you see me now?

Better run for cover.
Cause my addiction to you was just another contradiction to my life’s confusion.
And I used to say I would be scared to walk away,
In fear I couldn’t find other muse’s that knew me and my music as well as I thought you did.
Then I found someone who can’t listen to Halsey without me getting stuck in their head.
You claim that every time you took me in, took my hand,
It felt like you were being reprimanded.

Do you see me now?

A self-medicated
Mentally blocked.
Lock.
When I came through, you were dark blue,
And all I did was try to take care of you
Even when I had been spit up and chewed by you.
Now I hate the color blue.

You try now to compensate for that time and “regretful” mind state.
And I’m just Anna on the train tracks for all that you’d give a rats ass.
But then I looked back as she did at those train tracks and saw my “dark world.”
As a story arch.
I had to get away,
You beat me down into the color gray,
Why is still such a mystery that my attention was redirected when I was a stray?

Do you see me now?

Now tell me what you want from me.
I think you need someone who isn’t a lead-
A weaker girl?
Because a woman knows where her stance is-
This story will be one of me growing strong.
Because you are so,
So,
So,
SO
Wrong.
But you refuse to listen to my song of justice.
To be honest,
You were just a placebo.
I might as well have been your depot.

I put you on a pedestal and gave you the throne.
But you take pride in bloody eyes,
You always liked it when I cried.
Is that why you lied with her and,
Too me?

I can hear resentment in your tone,
You thought I’d never make it on my own.
You made an effort,
But nothing can last forever,
We’re such pessimists.
You left for the hell of it.
And when you realized I laid with brown eyes who holds no physical expectation over me, except to see me smiling over him-
He even helped my body not to be so slim.
He has never laid an unwanted hand on my limbs.

I asked you once,
What do you want,
And I need to know.
But that ego runs wild,
You said I got your beatings because I acted like a child.
You cheated on me so why are you still haunting me.

My memory is bated from your loneliness,
That is from childhood emptiness.

You won’t come back.
You aren’t anything but slack.
And I don’t waste my wishes anymore-
To wish that,
You thought of me more.

You will get yours,
Trust me.
I have many open author doors.
Didn’t I tell you,
You fuck with a writer,
And I will put you in my words,
Right here.

Still in love with fashion,
Trying to be Hugh Heffner.
When he hurts a fire sign,
He didn’t think he would get burned.
Poor little boy,
Cries his psychotic eyes out on the stand,
It’s all part of a show.

I’ve always wondered why can’t you just leave me alone?

Never Meant For California

You were drawn to me,

Pretty and smart,

You once,

Multiple times,

called me,

A

Work of art.

I met you in California,

We both know this state is,

And never,

Was,

Home for ya.

I told you that my heart was frozen over.

But that I could still be your lover.

We both sing that lyric of not being able to afford that Rover, and tattoo on someone’s shoulder.

But then I just had to roll over,

Because of the ONE my frozen,

PTSD,

heart took over.

I am so sorry.

My heart is still frozen over,

Maybe forever,

Because I wasn’t used not being run through the gravel.

I miss the miles I used to travel.

It was my choices that had us unravel.

I

Am

So

Sorry.

I’ve been going through phases,

Rewriting phrases,

Mentally running through messed up, terrifying, excruciating,

Mazes.

I’ll

Forever

Be

Sorry

You haven’t seen my new faces,

Because you’ve been happily busy,

And I’m happy for you,

Cause I feel like all I did was screw,

Up,

Your

Days.

This is not the first time I have written about your valuable time;

It’s just the only piece that isn’t in ripped up pieces.

My body was laid out for a willing sacrifice.

Almost three weeks,

I haven’t felt human.

I’m a robotic device.

I’ll

Always

Be

Sorry.

You had to leave.

For four days all I did was weep and feel the physical pain settle,

Into every inch of me.

I’m

So

Sorry.

I met you in California,

This poem probably sounds so familiar.

I wake up again,

Every night,

Drenched in my nightmare tears,

Sweat and regret.

Taking practice not to talk to you about my frets.

Because I am forever in your debt.

You know I don’t regret,

Any choice of mine,

But that one, two, three…

Speaking for myself,

Though this repent is genuine,

Those verbals and labels that I’m still trying to tell myself I am not,

Left me and my confidence,

Conscious,

to rot.

It was a lot.

I was ready to let my body and soul just drop.

But I can’t ‘rightfully’ say that,

Because what I did,

Hit you like a baseball bat.

I’m

So

Sorry.

This was scarring to not only you,

But me too.

But you saw some value,

For knowing each other,

Is

Thankfully,

Graciously,

Appreciatively,

Did not get,

Sucked out.

You think I have no clue of what I put you through,

Oh darling,

I do.

Still sorry.

But you don’t know the pain I endured, because I kept it from you.

So take a note;

Because you don’t know how my skin bled,

Like the ink from my powerful pen.

That though mistakes were made on my end,

I feel like you will never hear me when if or when I ever try to tell you,

That those earlier mentioned verbals,

Made my already difficult healing process,

Get shot through,

A,

Strew,

Of sleepless nights.

I don’t expect this poem to make it right,

But something you still and have always admired in me,

Is

My

Ability

To

Fight.

Though I will admit someone as strong as me,

Is

Currently,

Broken.

The light left in me,

Left me my ability,

That is mutually still admired,

To write.

I hope-

No,

Will,

Find a way to make this 110%

Right.

Because I feel like you don’t see the way I’ve had to fight,

The bite,

That was taken from me,

Mentally,

Physically.

This isn’t metaphysics,

My feelings are as real as the laws of

Physics.

My limits,

Were challenged and push,

From those verbals I so rightfully deserved and took.

But

I’m

Asking

You

To

Look.

I’m so sorry.

Breeze

Today I came out from a haze

It was a Sunday.

 

I know my wildfire persona has been tamed

But I have never laid in my bed

 

In pain

 

Feeling absolutely mundane.

 

Being as low and hallow

 

But still acknowledged and admired.

 

Like the momentary nostalgia and comfort on a fall day;

 

The array of leaves that would blow and accentuate my slightly

 

Unbelievably

 

But

 

Obviously

 

Small strong and physical

 

My beautiful red hair.


All the fall leaves blow away.

 

And her beauty

 

Conjured from forever mysteryness baby book faces.

I wonder the places I would have gone,

 

If had never been hit, tossed around,

 

Like a ping pong ball.

 

But I choose to fall back on the memories that light up the emerald stars that are my eyes.

 

Which are not a mystery to me.

A Message of Worldly Awareness

The world is crying in fear.

For there is a “man”

In office,

Who hates:

Women,

Gays,

Trans,

And

Queers.

How weird,

That humanity would vote in an asshole and consent to all this

I * N * S * A * N * I * T * Y

But really,

What the fuck?

The world is being shaped to be about how much luck one is born within the color of their skin.

Is this really the world we want to raise children in?

I can’t believe there are still “people” who won’t give human kindness,

Life, we- aren’t supposed to be,

Like this.

Who gives a fuck if a mother feeds her new born,

That doesn’t mean shes whorin.

Stop torturing people with words or hateful actions,

Just because they are foreign.

What happened to my rights to birth control?

This bastard really started on a bad roll.

Any ma-

MONSTER,

That demands to be called sir and fucks with my- our rights,

Is far from a gentlemen.

Am I,

Her,

Or,

She,

Really killing if we chose to have an abortion?

A fetus for any woman takes a great amount of our life’s portion.

And if we aren’t ready for it then it feels like we’re drowning in an ocean of

No support and confusion.

I think the most disgusting part that I have witnessed,

is a white man who spat poison to a Muslim,

Screaming he deserves to be in prison with the “rest of them”.

Fucking lame.

Life is a game, but if the choices we make,

Make us who we are;

I say, produce shining stars,

Don’t fall out of the sky.

Lets get out of this jaded prism,

And let some light in.

I don’t believe in the violence,

Beatings,

or

Fighting.

There is nothing productive about harsh lightening.

Yes,

It is,

Frustrating.

But lets delegate.

Fuck any man who expects me to be in the kitchen with his dinner plate.

I’m getting as many degrees as I please.

My intelligence is beyond all of this.

My voice is bait to put an end to all of this,

H * A * T * E.

Wait.

Let’s look at this worldly,

We all,

Laugh,

Cry,

Breathe

And

Love.

So why try and squash a part of humanity,

Fight fire with awareness and love.

We all feel as though the weight of the Earth and

Some days,

Universe,

Is on our shoulders.

We can make sure the world doesn’t get any colder.

So lets change it.

Instead of blocking opportunity

with bullshit blocking boulders.

WE

ALL

HAVE

SHOULDERS.

Message to Survivors;

I’m tired of being censored.

I know all my loved ones are so concerned,

But haven’t you all learned?

I need normalcy- I yearn for it.

My trauma drama is getting real old,

And I have been told,

That I’m getting too old to be scared of;

Showers,

Certain hours,

Monsters dark powers.

I turn my trauma into a beautiful garden of flowers.

Notice this,

All this pain,

Took so long to tame,

To match all the names to the dark games that I got bored of-

Because being used gets really fucking lame.

So I ask you; don’t turn off that song because it took me so long to actually get those memories to be gone.

I’m twenty-one and woman enough,

Tough enough to make it through this rough,

To speak up for myself.

This shit you don’t understand,

And to be honest, I don’t know if anyone can.

That includes me.

The dark faces I used to see are no longer aloud to swim my sea.

Dear Monsters,

Though I’m going to be a doctor,

Don’t expect me to fix you,

Because you all tossed me in a stew.

And I fucking flew.

Now I’m losing the memories of you.

I hope it makes you shake that I no longer wake,

In the middle of the night screaming your name.

You play games.

Have you ever met anyone who has beat your boss level?

I didn’t feel as though I deserved to settle.

I can’t tell anyone of you apart.

I hope you fiend for my touch,

Because I know it’s such a rush.

But now I crush you.

In my beautiful words,

Worlds.

All created by my right hand,

In a new written out land,

Where no hands have ever stricken me.

You said you liked me.

Mother fucker you were thirsty for innocence,

You make Pennywise not want to throw in his two cents.

Don’t take it personally when I don’t pick up my phone,

Because it comes down to me not giving a fuck- really.

My current role just feels so right,

The connections I have made without you are so tight.

I am light.

No here’s the “damaged”,

“broken-hearted-”

SURVIVORS.

We are the revolution who can come up with a solution to make sure,

No more monsters drown innocent children in their poison ocean.

You just have to shine,

Get back to what makes you prime.

This takes patience and time.

And most important of all- your mind.

I used to wake up every night in terror from the nights I used to be trapped in a demon’s lair.

Pulling at my hair,

Wishing he would take all of my air—-

I looked at his eyes, multiple times,

“HAHAHA, I’m not scared”.

Breathe.

SCREAM.

Find yourself then go get a supportive team to lean,

Instead of turning to white powder that gives you twenty minutes of temporary power.

Don’t spend time regretting all of those lost hours.

You’ll never come out of that ivory tower.

Listen;

This isn’t the answer to this,

But I believe that my words are as powerful as Athena’s kiss.

Here are some tips;

When you feel your PTSD seams start to rip,

Don’t chase a drip,

Find yourself a mental whip and put that itch back to bed.

My abuse comes with a bottle of booze,

All because some idiot thought he could choose me,

Use me,

And chew me.

Watch why I fly so.

Free.

“Though she is tiny, she is fierce”

The cocaine lines done on the outline of my soul are heavy

I’ve been screaming that I’m ready.

To take charge,

I’ve been living large,

Choosing to indulge in the natural highs of life.

Because no one tells you that the worst come downs are when lies are uncovered,

And I landed in reality.

That you really liked fucking her.

You wasted time,

No,

Spent time

Chasing a shinier god damn dime.

Who was as new and ripe

Like a freshly picked lime.

Mean while,

Your little lady was sniffing in her white house,

In that lose white blouse.

Little light clouds,

That aloud me to drown out all the crowds,

That no longer speak to me.

Because you had to go and smack me,

In attempt to try and remind me,

“How to act right.”

Fuck

Y O U.

I ducked you.

Ow.

Oh,

Wow.

What a surprise,

Another free written reprise about your demise.

I write this for really,

To bring honor to me and my family.

I swallowed my pain,

Was suffocated by your vain-

Just for myself.

You don’t deserve my love as he does.

I left you.

I’m an angel sent from the skies above-

You just had to go and shove me.

Devil in me-

We will never be we.

Don’t even dream about me.

I aspire to be your worst nightmare.

Because I still remember the pain

Of you,

Pulling on my January embers.

I made my own healing potions,

I use them to make my skin so soft like lotion.

And I let him soak it all in.

Because of you,

My mind was once a rouge ocean.

“Oh, son.”

Someone should have said to you,

“You don’t have to use your fists when a scared woman resists you grabbing at her tattooed wrists.”

Neglect is one hell of a knockout.

I look back at the girl who was once in a constant state of pout,

Thanks to those blackout lips,

Those bruised hips,

That Brown Eye’s lips,

kissed away.

And now I sway my hips to his touch.

Because you gripped me like a broken clutch.

I was never your stupid whore.

I grab my oar to swim away,

From all the hate.

And even if I’m late to my destiny,

I know that even though I am tiny,

That me leaving you,

Was the best thing done right,

By

ME.

Remember December?

Why must I feel as though I am sinking ships either for myself,
Or the disappointment of others.
I refuse to give up on me,
Because I’m doing this for all of the beautiful souls who never got the chance,
Little honey bees that were never able to fly,
They got stuck getting high.
I never really noticed until the seasons changed,
That I have a never-ending craving for freedom.
I’d rather live my own life than play by someone else’s rules.
My game is much more fun,
Because I am on a lifelong run
For knowledge-
I always say Philosophy saved me.
The shade of blue that has cast itself around my ora is one of the challenges, temptations
And trust.
I give myself the most credit for my self-edit-
It happened so quickly, didn’t it?
You cannot spell trust without us,
Do you remember that day we met in December?
Our lust turned
Stable.
Sanctuary turned into smiles in your sheets,
When she used to look so scared.
My rose garden dreams were almost stolen by thieves,
I nearly swept us away like autumn leaves.
Change is so strange, isn’t it darling?
Look all around me,
That progression is me-
Helped by we.
There was something in the wind that summer night,
It only caressed my face,
Until I faced it.
And it wasted the old me away.
Don’t deprive the world of your greatness,
I have just been so lucky to see it.

Little Lion Cub: Rewritten

Formally, I would like to point out that writing this piece; I kept my peace. Once upon a dark time in my life, I was one some nobody’s ‘cub’. And though I had long loved The Lion King before this toxic time, this movie became a strange and twisted theme to my life. But I had owned memories related to this movie; deeply rooted in my psyche.
My parents had this wooden chair. It’s red (green, but do I really even know?) Anyway, enjoy this. It is truly from one of the most purest and untainted times of my life.

 

Come with me,

to run free,

to Pride Rock.

I hear there are sapphire skies.

Fireflies replace street lights.

Hold onto me tight,

Can you feel the love in the air tonight?

Every queen usually has someone she leans on.

I don’t need a ring! I’m glad you can’t wait to be my king.

Everyone will look left,

Look right,

To see us standing in spotlight.

Lets hop right to Rafiki’s tree,

to remind us at last,

that we are not our past.

“Remember who you are”,

Young Nala, young Simba Cub.

And you’ll go so far across the stars.

Life is breezy and sweet like G-Eazy,

when all you gotta do is by,

Hakuna Matata.

It means no worries, for the rest of your days.

So stretch out your tails as slow as a snail.

In the warm African sun,

where wondering free is absolute fun.

Most importantly of all, remember to always give love,

To the Circle of Life.

Wandress State of Mind

Though I run till my breaks hurt
I have loved till I tasted dirt.
And all of the embodiment of a 4’11 squirt.
I have no reason to apologize for all of his lies.
Those caskets are dry to the bone and buried with his dull knives.
People come and go but I still stay me,
I still slay me.
In the control of myself,
I get to know the most of myself
Lately I have been posted by myself,
Blasting Post Malone is better than taking unwanted blows.

Sex used to be an excruciating vex.
But now it’s a spell from my body,
I do not just cast on any body.
My body is a temple.
An example,
Of how a woman should lick her own wounds
Instead of letting goons into her goddamn bedroom.
Dear Daddy’s princess,
Dear John Doe’s bae,
I have something to say.

Hey, try a new part of life,
That contains little to no strife.
Because it doesn’t involve trying to be someone’s wife.

Being twenty-one is so much fun.
And you only live it once;
So don’t be a fucking dunce;
And god damnit, why are you on his arm again,
The night after
He called you
A
C**t.
What?
Slow down.
Take your mentality to my town-
To the streets that are paved by a wandress.
Opportunity in any direction her eye can see.
So start exploring,
Honey bee.

Crowded Places

I know you want to go different places,
I know the way I tour around so freely is so romantic to you,
No set destination,
Just me, tapped into my destiny.
Who is this girl?
She’s so frantic.
She’s so clumsy.
She’s so crazy.
Hair of January embers,
Her red still shines in peeks of the darkest of lights and colors.
How?
Oh honey.
I wish I could take you to all these different places, but
You seem to be scared of my possible different faces.
And, I’ve been scared of crowded places.
And I swear I never meant to mess with your head,
I’m so sorry if I have made you sad-
But I’m so scared of crowded places.
Come with me, I’ll take you home.
You turn around and say to me,
What if this life is built for us to be “we?”
Wee lass, I have experienced to much loss in my life from reaching for that we,
Us.
Trust.
I’ve been scared of crowded places.
I know I’ve had to put two walls up for you to lean on,
For all the times I stood you up.
Darling,
I know you want to be in my spaces,
Just give me your patients.
For I can give you what you want-
I see the way you watch my eyes fall back as my smile grows outward.
I’ve just been scared of crowded places;
For my faces make me want to be waisted.
But sweets, I am already so tainted.
I know you waited,
So have I.

What will I do with you now?

Poems continued

See all this inspiration, love?
See all this ambition, love?
I flew from you, a broken dove
Bleeding dry from lack of love.
My darling Lucifer,
this if for you.
Your fur was made of scales,
that reflected each one of your
twisted tales.
And then when the princess became witness,
she came to the conclusion that his love to her was all an
i l l u s i o n.
Never to become reality; as she became ready to slay the commodity of her wild past.
So the princess slayed her dragon, gaining the strength,
to take on anything.
The rips in her gown were worse than the attempted blows to her iron heart.
For in her mind she knew he was poison;
and now she was finally
closing
in on a happy ending.
Built, written and slayed all by herself.
**************************************************
The sea of shadows is a place no person wants to swim.
Welcome to her head,
welcome to her hell.
Mesmerizing. Chastising. Glisten, Gleam and Glow.
Listen. How far will she go?
Can you hear her demons play on her dendrites?
Crystallizing a broken branch; attempting
pushing,
pulling,
perceiving for her perseverance to push to a different major.
When she just wants her natural gifts to be appreciated.
Shit.
Who is this kid?
Trying to kid herself she could be a science major just like her father, and supposed to be her brother,
but she is the genius prodigal daughter who was gifted a pen.
Who almost didn’t allow her to become who she is.
Eminem once sang it perfectly,
“…he goes home and barely knows his own daughter.”
Daddy, your girl is turning into a lady,
who needs to accomplish a few lists before she can come back and commit to comfortably sitting in your lap, like when I was little. Remember?
Mama,
My angel.
My angle for a majority of inspiration I put out into the world.
I never forget about you- even though the image of me is blurred like the pee in the carpet;
contribution to the cats as well.
I’m sorry it’s not better for you. And I wish it was.
But that involves bank.
That I will soon have after I submit one essay,
just wait a sec- hey.
Time to close that laptop now.
I’m sorry there is always at least one deadline I always seem to miss,
like how I was once a mistress,
to a mind so in distress,
he held me captive in his kiss.
But I remember better now that I stay away from white lines.
That every day is another day to woman the fuck up.
Beautiful girl don’t let anyone destroy your,
including you.
Cause you have a tract record of getting a head of yourself.
And that beaker boy,
who you see the sunrise in his eyes,
doesn’t belong to you.
But the disappointment in his when
when you visualize doing an activity from your past life,
is not worth it to me.
Though this sober celebration was started by me,
continued by me,
flourished by me,
the rose petals that reside on the my book-shelf remind me of the closest thing to red he and I can both see.

Breaking Her News

I make headlines
like bloodlines
bloody eyes,
bloody lies
bloody demise
I’m on my reprise; it should be no surprise
when I rise to make a point that this joint
has been worn out, has been blown out and sneezed away.

 

So sway to the rhythm of something new, and maybe you’ll get a clue to who you are currently and who you’ll evolve to; futurly.
Because truly we all have curiosity as to who that will be

 

Especially when it comes to me,
that sweet pea,
Don’t you know how bright you shine?

 

The emeralds in your eyes are worth more than the hope diamond,
worth more than all the demands in this damn world;
for we are all walking in our own hells.

 

I think I’m finally starting to like who I become.

 

For this is the start of my story,

 

which will one day make

 

history.

Philosophies and Poetry

I’ve been accused of overdosing on confidence.
Never.
That girl used to sniff poison to her veins,
Now the chemicals that concoct all her congrats and credentials
Are thanks to her newest confidence confection
I drive to the empty parking lot of my
School
S * A * N* C * T * U *A*R*Y
To empty out all of my thoughts without pausing to the blaring of blasphemous bullshit on the box outside of my room- that never seems to turn off
Sanctuary;
A place I  skip too
Never to be scolded
For being something
*unwritten*
UNEXPECTED
People look at me like I’m crazy when I tell them of the miles I’ll drive. Destination, another chapter written. I am blessed that this is my gift. I believe being a writer is its subcategory of one having a wild soul.
There is no set definition, no fixed compass set for the due north.
Just a girl, with her pen and paper and passion.
I also know what it is like to have a gift take over vulnerable times; engulfing on weakness from one’s own mind or blows brought on by others. The spaces between my lines sang an album of sorrows; what was the POINT?
The point of writing about my poison, past, present, and future; moderately between good and bad.
For I believe the arche of life lies in the ability in one to balance, listen and learn. Do not be “the last word,” for it will never be remembered.
I see no point to hostility. I used too. I thought that by “roaring so loud” to the wrong collaboration of individuals; there is no one to blame EVERY TIME.
There are some cases that call for call backs.
There are others that cannot be mended; I say no blame,
For no human knows exactly the perception or thinking process of another.

You cannot blame; only explain.

Tattoo’d Meanings

Sinking

Seeping

Sweeping

Where do all of these things come from?

She is looking for a sign, to lead her in the right direction

Haunted by the successions of her brother

Of her dear old,

Father.

Mother swiftly lifting away

But can still admire her little sunray

Rinsing

Relaxing

Rising

Regrowth holds immaculate power that can pull any willing soul

She rinsed off her ripped skin,

Wounds heal.

Daddy’s little science girl- you should know that.

How those mediator cells react and interact to weave over a haunting memory.

Stupid girl- get your head into beakers and out of those books.

Relax. As she gets high off the smoke of her own flared ambitions. Her mind is like no other

She truly is fine, and she knows it

Rising to her own accomplishments

After almost being;

Repeatedly

Reported

Dead.

 

“She does not wear survivor on her arm for nothing”

She’s

A

Survivor

Staying

 

Strong

Mama’s House

There was a boy who lived in a house
Where the walls had holes that echoed opened wounds
That secrets and cement have paved over
This home raised a boy
Who turned himself into a man
But childhood is a parabolic shadow
That molds and metamorphoses
From boy to man
But though he wrote chased his fate in dreams
And turned into something magnificent
The scent of his mother’s wrongdoings disable his sense of smell- when it comes to finding someone with a gentle face and heart to match
Dear boy,
I empathize with you.
For I know what it is like to chase the environment comforts
That reminds us so much of childhood
Comfort
You should celebrate the fact that I am taking the time
To express the words
On this keyboard; contrasting our upbringings that have lead us to the young people we are today
But Dear….boy? Are you a man?
You have been controlled and conjured by the most horrific beings
But when something as sweet as cherry wine in the sunshine beamed down on your essence
Your pit turned raw

For My Dream Job Partner

Authors note: I am profoundly and wholeheartedly broken at the horrific news of the passing of a magnificent young woman. Who walked hand in hand into a job with me, we both dreamed of pursuing.  Though I suffered a loss and hardship and had to let my dream sail sadly away- she continued her journey. Rouge waves wrongfully have affected everyone that she left her beaming essence on. Rest in paradise, door buddy. I am proud to publish my first ever Julia-Katherine original poetry piece. That will forever be in honor of cash-wrap partner, Suzy-Q.

I’ve never been called a crybaby
But you have made me cry lately.
My stage calls. My beautiful cast members need me,
I must cover up now.
I’ve never been known as a crybaby, but you’ve made me cry lately
How could someone who was once so beautiful to me,
Turn out to be
So damn ugly.
In the quickness
Of the
I M P A C T
Of a,
BLOW.
And I did.
I’ve never won anything in my life
Except to be the champion
At catching myself in the numbered statistics
In which one in four women and children get
BLOWN AWAY.
Your blow sent me
C A S C A D I N G
Tearing, ripping, bleeding
Through the branches, twigs, and trees.
Through familiar and unwordly mental territory
That was sworn by myself…
N * E * V * E *R
To be disturbed again.
Fuck you.
I got up from your blow
And was bleeding
“For no goddamn reason, little girl.”
They empty reasoning of three pairs of eyes
Three too many.
I calmed your demons as you used me as your antidote.
Thinking you slapped all the sweetness,
after roughly sniffing in all my fears.
*inhale, inhale, inhale*
Your fangs were dripping white lies, like your nostrils.
*exhale, exhale, exhale*
Trying to use me to satisfy that
INSATIABLE
Hunger. To fill that painful appetite.
Poor little boy.
You were never taught to fend for yourself. And that is why you seek wrongful “retribution.”
At the perfectly contoured corners, of my- of her, highlighted cheekbones.
Out of my sweet, rare soul.
Now, I laugh at you.
You tried.
And though the strikes you lassoed to my face
From the claws of your unearthly species
Did not fatally destroy me
The blows from others of your kind have.
And they have taken.
To early.
To young.
To what do you owe the mentally misdriven reason to think you may even think of laying your satanically scarred hands on our bodies.
Not all of us have made it through the tree.
1 in 4
But some of us
1 IN 4
Me
ONE IN FOUR
Survived, once again.
O * N * E
I * N
F * O * U * R

My sweet sister, may your angel wings thrive, develop and spread virtue to the ones who need it most. Though you are not here to spread inspiration for your daughter, in teaching her- her worth and what an example of a woman her mother is. You are still here. Your smile still lingers with me, door buddy. This is for you.