I wrote this poem in May of 2025.
can’t seem to get away from my demons no matter how fast i run,
no matter how healed I claim to be
they always haunt me in my dreams, or when I’m at my most vulnerable
and happy thinking life might finally be going right for me
But out of the blue, my new boyfriend annoys me,
unexpected bills show up, my stalker is back and creeping on my blog,
and I fight with my teenage son
I wonder what did I do to piss off the universe this time
I wrote poem in May of 2023.
my son is bright green as he explores the world
as he learns to communicate his needs
as he learns to navigate life
and comes across joy and heartbreak
and comes to me with questions
when something doesn’t work out
I wrote this poem in May of 2025.
my joe goldberg is back and a sense of doom overwhelms me
especially because I know how psychol this Joe is
from thinking he’s in love with me because of my blog
to remember the constant barrage of harassment I endured from him
for a few years, I got a major case of the icks
and while I should be extra happy my blog is getting ten time the views
it normally gets
it creeps me out entirely knowing it’s him
knowing that somehow my blog and my pics on there
are fodder for his spank back and his many delusions
I wrote this poem in May of 2023.
It’s fading fast, the time where you willingly spend time with me
Soon you’ll prefer your friends to me
Soon you’ll lock yourself in your room and only come out for food
Your voice is changing and you’re already taller than me
and your hormones makes you all kinds of angry
and me and everyone in the house are in denial
that you’re growing up
because you’ve been the baby for so long
our little rainbow who lights up our family
and it’s hard for us to accept our baby is blossoming
into a young man
and every day my heart hurts more thinking
how fast it’s all going, and how soon I’ll be forgotten
slowly fading into your background
I wrote this poem in May of 2025.
ego finally captured, I’m calm and humbled
the spiral of paranoia is gone
no one hates me, no one’s out to get me
it was a false narrative I created in moments
of madness
it was fake news as I let my emotions
get the better of me and control me
I’ve gained clarity again
I wrote this poem in May of 2023.
My son giggled as he fell in the pumpkin patch
his laughter brought back the reason
for my existence and purpose
I wrote this poem in May of 2025.
I punish the men in my life with silence
I learned it from my mom
she’d last days without saying a word to my dad
after a fight
always waited until he broke down and apologized
she always needed to win
and while I’m not as brutal as her
I need to protect myself when a man makes me feel
like I’m not good enough, like I’m a monster
so I walk away calm and give a silence so deafening
they’re ask a million questions why
they’ll search answers in between the lines
of the posts I write
and if they’re smart enough and get the hint,
they’ll stay away from me
I wrote this poem in May of 2022.
My son is blossoming and becoming the man
I always knew he could be
He’s ambitious, he’s kind,he’s a hard worker
He’s a mother’s dream come true
And while at times he may still stumble and occasionally
He’s inherited strength and resilience from me
It keeps him from giving up
It keeps him moving towards a life full of success and happiness
I wrote this poem in May of 2025.
it found me on a tuesday afternoon, inspiration for a book
a poetry book of sorts telling my life story
and while this has happened many times
I pray this one sticks because I have all of my material
in my google docs
at the very least, it’s given me inspiration as to where
to go next
I wrote this poem in May of 2025.
it’s the hunger games time again
I meant the MET Gala
where celebrities show off their ostentatious
and grotesque expensive outfits
while the majority of us are trying
to make sure all of the bills are paid,
wondering if we do indeed deserve our weekly treat
at starbucks, while some of us are being deported
to countries we don’t belong to
or that we don’t remember for the sole crime
of being brown and having the right documents
it’s the hunger games time again
oh I meant the MET Gala
and of course we’re shocked Sabrina
didn’t wear pants and that Rihanna is pregnant again
even though half a world away in Gaza,
moms are burying their children,
that’s if they’re lucky to find them under the rubble
and the Good Ole USA is on it’s way
to becoming a Nazi state and half of us
are in a cult devoted to Trump while the other half
are struggling and unsure of where
to look for comfort, for reprieve from all
of the fires burning
I wrote this poem in May of 2025.
drama always finds me
and I don’t know why that is
even as I try to keep my head low
and walk around humble
I still get caught up in telenovela moments
i never ask to be a part of
and the best I can do is make poetry out of it
I wrote this poem in May of 2016.
I didn’t think this day would come so soon
I wasn’t prepared for the emotions I would feel
“doomed to be another “statistic” “when I had you at 17
they said
And when at 4, when the diagnosis of autism came
“Good luck to him to becoming a productive member of society
they sai
“No way, will you succeed ,brown autistic boy,
son of a teenage mom”
they said
Yet here you are –
proving THEM wrong
Here is where you belong
not yet graduated from high school
but starting your first college classes
Tonight
Here is where you belong
despite the obstacles,the haters, society
trying to diminish your light for being different
here is where you belong
-on the start of a journey to success
and here I am beaming with pride
And love for you, my beautiful brown boy
defying odds and statistics,
and everyone who ever stood in your way.
as you write your own David and Goliath story
I wrote this poem in April of 2025.
some storms are worth the rainbows that come after them
like the first steps taken after an invasive and life changing surgery
like the victory dinner after the termination of a marriage
that never should have happened
like the first drive alone after beating a 15 year driving phobia
like the child graduating at the top 10 percent of his class
even though the odds were stacked against him
like the rainbow child born after enduring the nightmare
of losing one
like still being here and writing a poem about storms and rainbows
even though many times you’ve been tempted by thanatos whispers to end it
some storms are worth the rainbows that come after them
because rainbows are hope, magic, and joy that make a life worth living
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
The first and last time I tried to die
I tried to get everything right
I wrote letters to my loved ones
and swallow each pill one by one
All that was easy enough
but really dying was tough
Something inside me was too stubborn
And sent one last text out to a friend
who alerted my husband
Between her and him, I never reached my end
but in that moment
I understood the suicidal writers and poets
Living is exhausting,living is agonizing
I yearned for the sweetness of death
to take away my mediocre breath
But the universe or God had other plans
And today I finally understand
Living is painful,living is terrible
But living is also beautiful
and really living is admirable
I wrote this poem in April of 2022.
I never belonged to you or him
I belong to the world, the universe
and God
I belong to myself, to my ancestors
I belong to my words for better or worse
I belong to poetry and prose
Life on the BPD 