Tick – Tock

the seconds, minutes, hours
turning to days
as the clock continues
to tick away

another week, month
another year
in the mirror
another wrinkle appears

applying make-up
that feels more like spackle
why do I bother
does it even matter

take a deep breath in……
then breathe out
relax for one second – then
continue about

your petty little life
in this great big world
does any of it matter
do you think any of it could

the clock just ticks away
time just marches on
you breathe in
breathe out
you’re dead and gone


She Got the House


She got the house
though she didn’t want it
the tall grass
and the leaky facets

She got the house
the mortgage that came with it
the peeling paint
and everything that needed fixing

She got the house
with all the memories inside
holding her prisoner
to a past tense life

She got the house
and those precious mouths to feed
He walked away
clear and free

She got the house
they told her she’d won
but to have her family whole
she’d burn it to the ground

Today, is a Good Day

One day you once again feel the wind blowing through your hair

One day you find yourself listening to the old songs without crying

One day you catch yourself dancing, smile, and then happily dance some more

One day an old “friend” messages and your heart doesn’t flip or flutter
you exchange honest pleasantries and go on with your day

One day you wake up fully rested, from a good night’s sleep

One day you decide being angry is a waste of your energy
you let the little things roll off your back, and you give attention to the big things

One day you realize YOU get to decide the little things versus the big things

One day you, when you have exhausted every other avenue, come to the conclusion to live while you are still alive

One day you take control of your life

One day, you will once again say, “Today is a good day”

Clouded Memories & Goodbyes

he said, I miss you

admittedly she missed him too

but she wasn’t willing to open old wounds

he asked how’s she’s been

she wanted to break down and tell him

instead she cut the conversation short

after this long she felt no need to report

how the days turned to weeks, months, then years

how she’d cried until there were no more tears

she felt it best to leave the past where it lie

in clouded memories and goodbyes

Traditionally Speaking


Kicking tradition to the side of road

he sings me a tune that I really should know

he changes the words to suit his own needs

I smile and giggle, as we do what we please

The week has been long, the month longer still

yet sitting here next to him, I’ve got time just kill

Throwing tradition right out the window

I tell him I love him, he says “yep, I know”

Traditionally speaking we don’t stand a chance

but neither of us care about pomp and circumstance

We do it Our way, rituals and customs thrown out

Each day a new adventure

because that’s what WE are about




My season of inactivity has left me restless rather than restful.

My mind is overwhelmed with more questions than I can answer.

My body is left sore from the lack of proper exercise.

My veins and heart have filled with concrete and it is difficult to move.

Each step and breath is labored.

I have spent too much time in hospitals, though not for myself; I lack medical attention.

The wonders of modern medicine no longer work for me, I seek organic remedies.

I search for myself within the written word, both my own and others.  I remain lost.

My lovers are my characters I’ve created within my mind.

In reality I just push everyone further and further away.

I hate being lonely, yet adore being alone.

My six month hibernation has reinforced my freedom to choose, so I go it alone.

I crave the spring, to crawl out of my cave, yet this hibernation is hard to shake.


*August 19, 2015 was the last real happy day that I can recall.  After that day everything went to shit.  I am trying to find my way back, past all the kicks in the head.  Thank You to everyone who has stuck around.  Special thanks to those to have sent messages to check on me.  Extra special thanks to the one who never lets go no matter how hard I push back.  I love you!  XO






What Will I Do??

I tried to write again today
the words, they just fell away

Much like the tears I tried to cry
turned to concrete in my eyes

What will I do?

The question floats in the air
I’ve little to give anymore

My heart is dead
I’ve forgotten how to care

Everything around me
it’s true, fades to black

I wear my best friend
in a vial around my neck

My heels echo though hospital halls
I’ve come to know
the ICU far too well

Death, disease
surrounding me
not to mention the state of my Country

What will I do??

I let the question fade to black
I’m dead inside
I fear there’s no turning back


I have deleted more words in the last month then I have written in the last three years.  My words can no longer stop nor bring my tears.  I am numb.  The blood that used to boil within my veins now refuses to even flow.  Death does not even welcome me.  I have become a shell of my former self, spending too many days wishing I were someone else.  So now, as even my words fail me, I struggle to give this life meaning.

Kiss Me Goodnight


Kiss me goodnight
my sweet

Kiss me goodnight
so I can sleep

Kiss me goodnight
my lover

Snuggle in close
under these covers

Dream with me
until the light of day

Kiss me goodnight

my lover

Fuck Me Perfect


He fucks me perfect

fucking perfectly

I know I’m not

but he wills me to be

His words

His hands

in my Pussy

fucking me harder

past my fantasy

His throbbing cock

deep within my throat

fucking me perfect

as I choke

back the past

back the pain

swallow reality

beg him


Fuck me perfect



Hummm… Should She?

All Hallows Eve

is approaching…

Shall I write something spooky??  Scary??  Haunting??

I just crawled out of Hell!!

There did that scare the shit out of you??

She throws her head back and laughs.  Nobody else finds it funny.  She laughs to herself.  She may be mad.  She probably is.  She has crawled out of Hell, what do you expect.  She sits on her bed with her laptop waiting for the fucking floor to drop, or the ceiling, or maybe the walls to crumble.  Any of those things, or none.  She would not be fazed.  She is both alive and dead.  Fingers typing faster than her mind can think.  Making up for weeks of neglect.  Her mind jumping between visions of fantasy and reality, heaven (no fuck, not heaven, just life) and hell, mostly hell.  She is sane, probably not sable, but most don’t like her that way anyway.  She’d do pretty much anything for a beer and a hard throbbing cock right now, but sits alone and bed and writes about it instead.  She has found that turning off a laptop is much easier than kicking a man out of her bed.

So back to.. should she write something scary or haunting for All Hallows Eve??

The Naughty Side


She likes him on the naughty side

bared chest

hard cock

eyes wide

She likes to watch him think of her

bites his lip

breathes heavy

hands blur

She keeps her eyes on the prize

moans with delight

hands move

between her thighs

He takes her to the naughty side

Did You?


Did you miss me

while I was crawling through hell

having dinner with the devil himself

selling my body

just to feel alive

Did you miss me

on my fucking dive

on my fall

my decline

my decent

did you give a shit

about where I had went

Did you miss me

did you

give one little fuck

It doesn’t matter

I’m back now

suck it up

Freeze Frame


Freeze frame
as I came
as I moan
and you own

Freeze frame
on your face
and your cock
my eyes lock
unto you
as we do
what we do

Freeze the frame
stop time
share the rhythm
yours and mine

October is Domestic Violence Awareness Month


Listed below are some of my personal pieces explaining how it feels…

Black & Blue

It Isn’t Love

Not Worth A Title

The Show Must Go On

If the Floor Drops

The Way She Laughs



I love the sound of your voice


I love the sound of your voice

I can taste it on my lips

I love the tingle you give me

and how my heart does flips

I love the way you miss me

when I’m missing you too

and how you call me up

just to tell me, I love you

I love the sound of your voice

brushing along my skin

over every curve and crevice

bringing me to life again

and again

How Deeply Cuts Your Knife


Would you have me question myself

my very being and soul

Would you have me crying out, laying

broken on the floor

Would you have me

withering in pain

Bleeding, open wounds

Would you have me to be less

so that You, could be more

My strength stripped away from me

to even out the score

Would you have me on my knees

begging for mercy from above

Do you wish these things

then, call it Love

Do you wish me death

so You, can give me life

Do you even know

how deeply

cuts your knife


Her world opens and closes as she melts into him.

He doesn’t know, or maybe he does,

how much she holds back.

A peck on the lips, a deeper kiss.

She wants to devour him.

She wants him to feel what she does.

She is not even aware of onlookers,

she doesn’t care.

She only cares about feeling him;

physically, mentally, emotionally.

She has this moment only.

She memorizes his breathing,

his finger tips, his eyes,

the taste of his lips.

She is both alive and dead.

All those words she meant to say