Photo by Alex Andrews on Pexels.com

A change has come upon me and has slowly been lifting the weight of the world off my shoulders.

I have always been the type to not speak up, to not voice my opinions or dissatisfactions from fear of my words possibly hurting the other person. I accumulate all of my thoughts and feelings, and have always believed that this coping method allowed me to remain in what I mistook for my comfort zone all these years.

I have recently and thankfully been confronted with verbalizing my true feelings towards a certain person. I permitted myself to do so without holding anything back. The conversation went smoothly. I managed to vocalize what I had been needing to say forever. My inner thoughts were finally exposed to this person while gathering the courage as tightly as the fidget ball I suffocated in my sweaty palms.

An intense sense of liberation was felt in the deepest parts of me and I have been practising this uncomfortable but primordial technique ever since.

It is okay to say what you think. You learn to walk on feathers when the earth stops feeling like eggshells everywhere you turn. Nobody is responsible for the reaction or perception of another being.

I ask myself now: “What is more difficult on me – keeping things bottled up and amassed until I am completely overwhelmed and unable to separate healthy feelings from unhealthy thoughts, or pouring it out and not worrying about how it will be received on the other end?”.

Having a voice is important! You are not in control of how another hears it, copes with it, or interprets it.

From silently writing each word to effectively communicating one syllable at a time!


A professional has recently diagnosed me with Adjustment Disorder…

From my understanding, it basically means that I am reacting with a different intensity than the average person might to the current difficulties in my life. Instead of going with the flow of things and adapting to the change in my situation, I am completely consumed and overwhelmed by it all.

Yes, it is a clinical term they have studied in one of their many books. However, can the impacts on myself really be measured by a person having never gone through even the slightest percentage of my problems?

The words are in their text book, but the pain in my chest cannot be felt on paper. I can also easily reply to people, who are dealing with something completely foreign to me, that they are reacting out of proportion. Apparently the expression “walk a mile in my shoes” means nothing to a highly paid person living a life of perfection. It is like saying you know “starvation” though your belly has never run on empty and the fridge has always been full.

I would have at least been satisfied leaving the office with a tad bit of compassion. But, I believe their role is to remain composed, shoot straight, show you the door and return you to society.

I have been dealing with the same unresolved situation, which is completely out of my control, for the past sixteen months. It has put my entire life on hold.

This same person probably finished their day, drove to their magnificent home, with their beautiful car, to be with their perfectly well-off loved ones who are safely waiting for them.

Perhaps I would further welcome this diagnosis had it been given to me by someone unable to pay to have their painful tooth fixed. Someone who must ride a bike home in the snow because their credit score refrains them from purchasing a car. Someone who has battled having a loved one with addiction issues. Someone having had a rough childhood.

Adjustment disorder somewhat implies that your life is shit and that you need to get over it, because other people with shitty lives have gotten over it better than you.

Phone Age

Photo by Cup of Couple on Pexels.com
What has come of this world?

Where now taxes count more than support, and the pressure of the economy overrules our sense of humanity.

What has come of this world?

Where opinions and voices mean less than satellites and control. Where deaths get tallied and births are swept under the rug.

What has come of this world?

Where education cannot be afforded, yet medical staff screams from the burden of being so few for so many.

What has come of this world?

Where every word is offensive and every gesture a crime. Where we struggle for moments, but have not enough time.

What has come of this world?

Without talking or tea. Where the person beside you is lesser than "me".

What has come of this world?

As they make up new laws, flashing fakeness upon us unraveling our flaws.

What has come of this world?

Where we march in a crowd; thinking chaos will come doing things we're allowed.

What has come of this world?

Where families do not gather and friends do not greet. Where you mustn't walk close to the folks in the street.

Fallen Snow

Photo by Amine on Pexels.com

The sun, tickling her crackled skin, as she misses the smudge of her hands pressed innocently against the glass of the back door; marking a trajectory she will never witness once more. Two tough winters gone by, without a carrot nose stuffed in a totem of snow.

The moon, forever a recollection of prayers and cries, as the dark gobbled up her emotions inside. Two years vanished, of distant love she survived, since the scrubbing of sheets and the closest goodbye.

Days inching to nights. Dreams made of questions, without answers in sight.

Confusion settled, upon the departure and arrival she had to accept, as she painted his walls and wept in her bed.

She is gone like the melting of crushed fallen snow. He is here like the grass that develops below.

Forcefully – yet acceptingly – embracing all that he is, and progressively releasing all that she was. Apprehending her values, defining her love.

She opens her arms, and welcomes him in, for her heart it ignites deepened shadows within.

Individual flake – it has fallen on snow – new dimensions defined through the form that unfolds.

Once a gift, drenched with gold, now a clear chunk of coal. He discovers himself as she loses control.

Flakes they land from the sky, while she struggles to find, an identical flake like the one in her mind.

Magnolia Flame

enticing scent
of magnolia wax
as the glow of the wick drags my sorry ass
back to the present moment

a parcel of peace
pure bliss and content
sway little flame
as your body descends

melt my soul
captivate my essence
bring shimmer to rain
stepping through fire
soles of magnolia petals
suited perfectly 
as leather bricks
that extinguish the burn

do not drown
all my sorrows
or rid me of pain
simply take my mind back
to the smell of your flame

Snakes And Ladders

Photo by icon0.com on Pexels.com

Your perfection intense in all aspects of life. You see stuff through goggles in pure black or white.

The spectrum of possibilities, between incrementing shades, does not exist on your scale. At the top you succeed, at the bottom you fail.

Done right or done wrong, the best or the worst. To avoid being last, you must always be first.

Good versus bad; simply no middle ground, edging its way to the glorious crown. You see ladders and snakes that you climb or fall down. Never missing a piece; it is lost or is found.

You pass go or you don’t, fully rich or real broke, and you win every game because losing is “no”.

Expectations must meet, but the pressure it hurts, since each tip in the balance could rid you of worth.

It is hard living life with extremes set this way, since you can’t be okay or be happy with grey.

Got It Rough

Photo by Daisy Laparra on Pexels.com
Giving life to a human
Ten fingers and toes
To dig through the rubble
And dirt they are thrown.

As they dream
Tucked in tight
They awake fully grown
To be sleepless adults
Paying bills on their own.

They crawl at the start
And then drag their two feet
Through the mountains and valleys of life and its greed.

They fall victim to tricks and to traitors of trade
And you can't hold them back once their choices are made.

They were watching cartoons now they search for themselves knowing life cannot fix lack of luck by itself.

Our reason to be becomes things we regret once they've outgrown the house and their small empty bed.

They call when confused about which way to go and are tossed in the train of the traffic we know.

You prepare them for life with your own strings to knot as you figure out leaps they can take when their lost.

Our little ones need not to know what's to come as they run through the sprinkler of life in the sun. 

Had I known all the heartache and misery faced I would not have let trauma of life fill that space.

It is lollypop fun till their voice on the phone
calls you crying at night for a safe return home.

I gave life filled with fear, unattainably hoped that by cutting the cord you'd hang on to my rope.

It is not always fair and a great deal of pain you will walk around puddles; I did just the same.

The laughter will die and your fridge will be bare as you climb every downside that life has to share.

The scars on your belly they offered a life filled with struggles and work with no ending in sight.

Ten fingers and toes will be worn to the bone once the bump in your belly is older and grown. 

I Turn To You

Photo by Ali Arapou011flu on Pexels.com

I turn to you, when looking behind and ahead haunts my thoughts. I turn to you, since my bread is in crumbs and my wine it is crusted to clots.

I turn to you, when I have no more place left to go. I turn to the sun burning less than the flames down below.

I turn to you, seeking answers and forgetting my way. I turn to you, after terrible nights and dark gloomy days.

I turn to the angels up high, for the strength and the will, to not flap my wings and remain standing still.

I turn to you now, more than ever before, because life has removed every board in my floor.

I turn to your hands, as my lips kiss your feet, as you heal all my wounds and you praise my defeat.

I turn to you, as I pray here and beg, for my hands to be cleansed with the drops on my head.

I turn to you, for your love and your light, as I question your heart, all your power and might.

I turn to you, since you’re all that remains and forgiveness removes the sensation of blame.

I turn to you, without knowing your name, having heard every story, your glory and fame.

I turn to you, though quite selfishly true, for yourself to be present and turn to me too.

There is undeniably no greater demonstration of unconditionally loving another than speaking words unreceived and unreciprocated.

Preaching that actions scream louder than words for your blindness does not see, hear, or comprehend the echoes escaping the self-mounted walls of my profound chest.

The deafness in your immaturity hears not the sound of my voice reaching out to the selfish hand tucked stubbornly inside your denim-covered – armed with a middle finger – pocket.

Simply said is quite better than unsaid and unshown when shown goes unseen and unwelcome.

If to you words without meaning, than why so eagerly keep them to yourself if not solely to see me squirm in grand discomfort.

Your discreet actions contradictingly prove that the harsh removal of these meaningless words cuts deeper than that which you wish to lead on.

Astonished by your clear lack of comprehension behind the words that I blurt in your direction, I will continue making it awkward.

Not to show you that I am lost without your generous love, but to say that I love the person you are before losing the person you were. That which purely remains the truest sense of loving another.

Perhaps you will, over time, have a more distinguishable understanding of this apparently mature and currently unattainable concept.

I wish I had that type of love where words could soothe, where softness could appease my hardness, where running fingertips through my hair could heal my mind. He keeps me safe, but safe is not soft. He is loyal, but loyal is not loving. He is strong, but strength cannot contend with tenderness. Spitting image of my paternal figure; thinking a man’s duty is being a sturdy rock. I wish I had a delicate pebble from the ocean, but searched for a boulder in the canyon.

Libido does not decrease during depression. It in fact remains very present. It is rather the occupied space in the mind that leaves no room for intimacy to even exist. Shushing my thoughts for a slight slice of seventh heaven. Absolutely impossible to imagine. I have been like a widow wearing black for a year without a husband to grieve. I will undress for pleasure when my heart can once again listen to lyrics without further damage. Until then, the plug from the radio will remain pulled.

Empty Nest

release the cinderblock sinking my soul. as my hands reach to keep your head above water. return to the nest with comfort and safety guaranteed. i will teach you to soar. even with my exhausted wings pinned firmly to the soil. i can rid every twig in the woods to shelter your heart. and gasp every breath for your lungs to gobble my love. my span will spread once your willingness to fly shines as bright as the tint that remains stained in the sheets. encrusted in my mind. still splitting my ovaries. the night your light dimmed out and the darkness poured.

Willingly Stuck

Flagrant lack of maturation.
Complete unwillingness to evolve.
Unable to research or gather therapeutic information to increase in growth.
Blatantly under-developed and overwhelmingly unequipped.
The belief that sides must be picked and that battles be won.
Refusal to branch from the trunk of one’s roots.
Elongated development severed at the base.
Discovering and dismantling patterns previously created.
Tweaking at the treasure of personal existence.
Searching through depths resistant to change.
Stretching of limbs and widening of horizons.
Broadening knowledge mindful of theories unknown.
Unadaptable to surroundings.
Fading into transparent intensity.
Choosing to be without truly being.
Evolving begins when resiliency ends.
Knowledge is power unless unattainable.
Desire to reach heights is not granted to all.
Conversations with some crack like grout on a wall.
Impossible to witness my light when one seems stuck in the shade.
Unadvanced, unimproved, unawaken version standing before me.
As I throw unassimilated truth at the crackled portrait.

Photo by Una Laurencic on Pexels.com

Radical Acceptance

To reconstruct a firm foundation, you must primarily deconstruct the original version of your unsteady self.


Photo by Artem Podrez on Pexels.com


Following years of unsuccessfully trying to change, forgive or forget my past, and attempting to reposition my bricks, I realize now that I was simply adding cement or creating holes to the misaligned and wobbly structure.

Recently, I have discovered radical acceptance; which has left me feeling quite silly that a simple word like “accept” could be so immensely foreign to me before.

There are certain things in life you have not the power to control. All the kicking, screaming, begging and praying will not improve the solidity of your being when a brick should be labeled as reality instead of being seen as a crooked piece impossible to repair.

The term “radical acceptance” simply means that what is there is not meant for you to fix. That upsetting brick in your structure, or stubborn screw in your scaffold, is out of your control.

By radically accepting all of the unchangeable things in your life, you actually gain a lot of control.

Ask yourself the following question:

Can I change or control this?

If the answer is no, then it is reality – not a crooked brick. Nobody has the almighty power to change reality. You must therefore radically accept that there is nothing you can do to make that brick better; other than accept its presence.

May I Sit Here With You?

Photo by Brett Sayles on Pexels.com

Worn body cemented to the curb with nothing attached but his homelessness and scraps. Only blurred visions remain that creep and strike his confusion. The place and the people once creating his home are now haunting shadows as he sits there alone. The flakiness of his hair and clear chips in his teeth tell an unhandled tale of a recent journey. Permit my wandering soul to join you for an empty cup of thin tea as you triumphantly pour me the thick walls you tried scaling. Confide all your troubles and tell me your truth, and I’ll be all the people unpresent for you. I breakingly drive by your invisible home, and watch you sit there and share spoken words on your own. The immense light shed from your pores eclipses to me all the perfect lit doors. Their tea might be warm and our soul might be cold, but they know not the depths of our stories untold. Tell me your chapters enclosed in your book and I promise to listen. Find strength in your lonely fingers to turn every page as I comfort your unscrubbed shoulders and have your unrubbed back. Your tea is as void as your bottomless glass, but your cup overflows with your struggles and past. I would sit there with you feeling homeless but home, for myself too would not want to rot there alone.

One Day

Photo by Michelle Tiemann on Pexels.com

One day I will pack not a thing that I own. I will travel, venture, discover and roam. One day all my worries will be far behind. I will inhale to breathe in the beauty of life. One day I will worry for only myself. I will not be surrounded by all needing help. One day every choice will be something I chose. They will not be forced on me by those I love most. One day I will see what the world has to give. I will capture its essence among those who live. One day I will wake and will walk different towns. I will not fall asleep with this sadness and frown. One day my two feet they will show me the world. I will not be held back by the weight of my curls. One day all the air will be different and new. I will not feel polluted by carbon you do. One day all the roads will lead only to good. I will not be with folks doing nothing they should. One day I will search for more positive light. I will grow old with humans who figured out life. One day I will pack and I might not return. I will finally be living the dream I have earned.

Must Be You

Photo by Mike Chai on Pexels.com

Mind your manners
Free your soul
Be your you
Do what you’re told

Change your thoughts
Achieve your goals
Set your limits
Respect the old

Sit up straight
Stand with pride
No tattle tales
Or telling lies

Look not behind
Not up ahead
Sleep at night
And make your bed

Follow laws
But value you
Do not to others
Done to you

Speak your truth
But do not blame
Please do not curse
Or use his name

Eat three meals
And drink a lot
Let go of feelings
Share your thoughts

Spoil you
But save up too
Your wedding day
You must wear blue

Pay your bills
And go to work
For others home
Take care of earth

Recycle things
And do not hoard
Breathe not from chest
But from your core

I’ve had enough
With what to do
I can’t be me
And must be you

Create your website with WordPress.com
Get started