I Was Here


I Was Here

I was there, 

sitting on untrodden land

except by you, unseen life forms

I’m not sure what I had seen there, 

many things anew

many things so strange

new land is beautiful

because you don’t know what it means. 



The Guilt that Haunts Me


The Guilt that Haunts Me

First cut 

First hit

First sip

First pill            

                    open gate 

                    painted walls

                    broken window                    

                    lock undone

First cut

First hit

First sip

First pill                    

                     car door opened

                     few things stolen

                     one guy yelled

                    running caught


One regret hits the heart

No regrets for me





Lungs full, weighed down, no escapes are left 

I’m drowned. 

Weekly Writing Challenge: Ghosts of December 23rds Past


Weekly Writing Challenge: Ghosts of December 23rds Past

A day of my past into an insignificant future. 

My past is such a struggle, its painful to remember, painful to relive. 

The day that comes to mind, is pure torture. 

When I was little, my mom wanted me and my siblings to see my dad one last time before he was sent away for years to come. The problem was someone found out. They didn’t like my moms’ last desperate resort. 

I was put in foster care with my twin and the rest of us were spread out by themselves. 

It was one night, only some sort of a 24 hour time period, but it was hell. 

I was so small, and I felt so alone. I had only my sister to comfort me and she was in a comforting mood. We sat, cuddled up together, under a table for hours, crying, until we fell asleep. We forced to eat spaghetti, of all things, for dinner and to this day I can no longer eat that saucy covered pasta. 

My mom was able to pull me out of the system, throwing out her own fears and helplessness for the court to see, a desperate housewife being evicted from her home, with no money, no job, a husband being tossed into prison for the pain he put into my family. We had nowhere to go and she had never been on her own before. (Let alone with 6 kids on her hands.) 

Her utter desperation is what released her kids from . . . ultimate daycare let’s call it.

When we got home, we were never really home. We had to move around, living with different people, never on our own. Never with daddy again. 

I saw him, a few visits to the prison visiting center but it was never satisfying. He never seemed to want to see me, he pushed me away. 

Even so, he wrote letters and drew pictures and made cards; even got a few phone calls here and there. 

One thing I remember most, is being signed up for Angel Tree. There would be a family who would call my mom during Christmas time and every kid would make a list. That family would buy the things we put on our list and say they were from daddy. 

Every year, we would get the call. 

Every year, we would wait for a delivery to out door. 

Every year, we would have the special tags, they were shaped as a tree with Angel Tree written on the top, “from daddy”.

Every year, we would open them on Christmas eve. 

Every year, disappointment rang when my daddy didn’t come home for Christmas. 



Daily Post: Interplanet Janet


Daily Post: Interplanet Janet

A regae color swooshed into tie dye

spinning and spinning until 


depression nonexistent



sunny and warm




no death

no sadness

no hurt

no pain

                               only COLOR

calming herbs

spark it up~~~~

cloud over                     harm

                                                     foggy flame,

                                                             foggy world.

Daily Post- Mad as a Hatter


Daily Post- Mad as a Hatter

Rage is something that scares me to my deepest core. 

I’ve seen the nightmares of my father shoving my mom through walls and screaming on endlessly over spilled soup. 

I’ve witnessed my brother so angry, that I watched him take an ax and hammer it time and time again, into a large tree by the porch. 

I’ve seen myself, wallowing in self-misery, erupt into a volcano of action, throwing fists into cement walls and screaming to the extent of my lungs capacity. My whole body uncontrollably shaking, my eyes dripping tears like a broken faucet set out to flood the world. 

Daily Prompt- By the skin of your teeth


Daily Prompt- By the skin of your teeth

To remember a time where I narrowly avoided a disaster is like asking me to tell you the timeline of my life. My mind is full of bad ideas and the hopelessness to follow them through. I can go from, not getting caught stealing a carton of cigarettes to not getting hit by a car because of my “cat-like reflexes.” I would have to go back to my little baby time, and the day that my sister gave in to her pain. The cops were called on my dad for harassing two young girls; they went to talk to my older sister to satisfy their suspicions, they got a hell of a lot more than they asked for too. She told them everything, every detail, all the things he did to her . . . the things he forced her to do for him. After that, he was taken to prison; that man was out of my life completely. Taking my father away was a blessing in disguise, I know in my heart, and so does my mom and older siblings, that he stuck around until me and my twin sister grew up, we would’ve been next. I would’ve been violated just as much as my beautiful sister. Would’ve been beaten on when i made even the smallest mistake, then, eventually I would be hard pressed to protect my baby sister and brother from my fathers’ wrath and lustful nature. It would’ve been a much harder life than I have now and I know that my depression would’ve been deeper than even now and I would be dead on the inside and out.