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Poem : Numbness

Mood

The numbness comes back 

and there is nothing to fill the void

Running, drinking, dancing

Nothing stops the thoughts

about deleting myself

from this cesspool called life

What’s the point?

To love and get your heart 

crushed over and over and over again

I had come so far

and to think this one

was well different

But once again

I was wrong, so wrong

Love stories aren’t meant

for people like me

Because I’m too much,

Too hard, too crazy

To ever be truly loved

But I keep going, I keep continuing 

One step at a time,

One day at a time

to live

Because that’s the right and brave

thing to do

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poetry: buspar

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

image of me when I tried to quit Buspar

I wanted to kill my sex drive so I stopped taking buspar
and while my sex drive has finally waned
the side effects are slowly killing me
between the mental fog, the constant headaches,
the nausea followed by the loss of appetite
there’s a reason they tell you to wean slowly
from psychiatric drugs, to do it under the care
of a medical provider
stopping cold turkey lends to a spiral of madness
and a physical ailment I never intended

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Poetry: I’m in Love

I’ve got a secret 🙊

I’m in love and I hold my breath

wondering when this wondrous feeling 

will end.

When will you stop looking at me

like I’m magic?

When will I stop fantasizing about you?

When will we both tire of each other?

When  will we end up in a predictable rut?

So I hold on to this  moment when I’m in love 

and hold my breath hoping that it’s a long time

before the end. 

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poetry: three years ago

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

thinking about the chaotic move of May of 2021

three years ago, I was dealing with the most chaotic move of my life
never thought my new home would see the death of me
the princess who moved in
and the resurrection of the queen I was about to become

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Poetry: No Expectations

But I lost it like a promise- Conan Gray

I told myself “no expectations”

“Just use him for a short time”

That’s all he’ll be good for

But his words, his gaze

His hands, his lips

Felt like home the first night

This can’t be happening

This can’t be real 

This isn’t who I want to be with

But my heart wouldn’t listen

To the logic in my head, 

The advice from my friends

I had the first hit and I needed to go back-

I feel like a pathetic drug addict-

I told myself “no expectations”

And yet a year later-

Here we still are in our 

Intense and passionate love affair

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poetry: a snap 3 years later

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

remembering how I posted this snap so the muse of this poem would see it-lol

saw you and knew right away there wouldn’t be a second date
thought I made that apparent enough at the end
but 3 years later you send me a snap to ask me
if I’m still interested
Sorry
but the woman you met is no longer who I used to be
maybe you had a chance with her
but the new me-she’s careful who she gives access to
the new me has cut off any strings left
from the old life the old me use to live

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Poem: Healthy is Boring

Healthy is boring

When you only know

pain, strife, and destruction

from those who claim to love you

Healthy is boring

when toxicity and chaos

and insecurity

ruled previous relationships

Healthy is boring

when “love” was a word

that held me hostage

to previous lovers

Healthy is boring 

when for the first time

with a lover 

you feel a sureness

With him 

And you feel like you’re enough

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poetry: every time

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

once upon a time, I was obsessed with a fuck boi

everytime you disappear, I lose an ounce
of the fondness and affection I hold for you
this last time,I didn’t even notice
I thought, good for him
he found someone else to stroke his ego
and validate him
but here you are again
everything I once felt for you
has dried out
and I have nothing left to say
as you try to nonchalantly come back into my life
I’m filled with indifference this time
holding onto my new sense of empowerment
careful to not again fall under your spell
once again

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Poetry: Blocked

Blocked

Blocked from my phone
Blocked from my world
Blocked from being
The constant chaos
That torpedoes into my life
And fucks things up

If only I could
Block you from my mind
If only I could
Block you from my heart
If only I could
Block you from my dreams

Blocked from mentioning your name
My friends know better

If only I could
Block you from
My poetry and prose

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poetry: can’t let go

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

age 8 before I discovered Mariah Carey

at 9, Mariah Carey taught me to look pretty
even as I’m suffering, even as I’m cast aside
for someone else
even as I’m crying and dying from grief
at 9, Mariah Carey taught me about
all of the lovely and terrible things
that come with falling in love
at 9, Mariah Carey gave me lessons
about life and love
I’ve carried into my middle age

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poetry: fuck spring

I wrote this poem in May of 2024.

me trying to enjoy spring while being depressed

shadows of summer’s past came and haunted me
in dreams, in my most intrusive of thoughts
every summer tragedy comes to the surface
in spring
not allowing me to enjoy the may flowers
that are blooming
not allowing the visual poetry of spring
happening right in front of me
panic attacks, crying spells, dissociative episodes
bursts of anxiety and nightmares
that deprive me of sleep, leaving me in a haze
of despair followed by depression
and I end up in a fog of exhaustion I can’t
seem to get rid of