“It hurts! Help me!” I scream. They come running, begging “what hurts? How can I help?”

“Everything. My heart. My soul. My feelings. It all hurts. Help me!”

“I don’t know how!”

“HELP. ME.” Tears running down my face as if away from the thing terrorizing me inside. 

They look at me, knowing I am in pain, hurting in my hurt, lost in their helplessness. 

I’m drowning in my tears. My thoughts. Memories are like murder weapons, cutting through decisions I could have made. 

Stifled sobs are all I have left. 

Fetal position. Child’s pose. Corpse pose. 

The only life in me is undead. 

I gave the world I carried into trusted hands

To be traded for a dime bag 

“HELP.” Gasps. “Meeeeee” pleads 

Every. Day. 

For 62 days. Since we broke, shattered. 

I cried. Morning. Evening. Midnight. In my sleep. 

Pillows saturated in tears, stinking of salt and despair. 

Restless nights and torn sheets 

Fractured memories seeping into dreams 

I begged for help

I carried the pain 

92 days later 

I am letting go

You’ve set sail down a path of self destruction

Buoyed by your enablers and friends fearful

I’ve done all I could 

And then I did more 

Help me. I was asking the wrong people. 

You helped me. You made it easy to stop hurting. 
To you, who broke my heart and set it free. 
That’s the dedication in the book I will write. It may hurt you, if you still have a heart for me, but know it is written in love. You did show me love for a time, unlike any I have known. 



There once was a boy, whom thought himself to be ugly tbhBrushing his teeth with activated charcoal through aloe Vera face masks 

Thinking what he saw in the mirror imperfect 

And what the world saw of him

This boy, the gentle heart 

Tenderized with salt and sadness as so many are 

Poured passion into talent

Crafting images the way I craft words 

Each line’s thought and care so visible 

To those whom have seen pain

The gentleness in eyes sketched 

Reflecting the sorrow and glitter of his own eye 

So open was his heart, it was carved like a holiday ham

Though he walked, starving, he never stopped anyone 

And this boy, who wasn’t ugly at all, to be honest 

Wanders looking for his way

Waiting to be fed 

To be held in a bed of roses 

Told “you can rest now, dear one”

The mask that blinds him, is made of tears and pain 

No amount of scrubbing or charcoal can remove that stain 

For that is what gives a face character, depth, beauty 

It is when this boy learns to embrace it

He will be more than a sketch on paper

But a profound Miyazaki anime

Telling the story of a hero’s journey through the epic battle that is every day 

The colors will saturate and bleed into viewers’ souls

So captivated by the imagery though he knows not the scene he sets 

But. But people will love his story 

Will love him 

Will hold him

Will care for him 

When he learns to sketch with the graphite of his soul 

Changing winds 

Windswept. But I was the wind, lifting myself. Learning my colors, okay with not staying in the lines. A salty breeze, a winter chill, a floral spring waft, gale force hurricane. I am the wind, and I can soothe you, or I can destroy you. Without an imposed moral judgement, the wind just is. I just am.

The death of an immortal song

Our songs haunt me nowThe ghosts of unicorns past 

Somebody loved me

They made me better

They were a stranger

Always happy to see me

Resenting me now

They cocoon themselves in enablers

Unwitting fools complicit in destruction 

Ignoring their guilt 

I am the villain 

Vicious, in my love

That difficult love that knows 

When to call in professional help

Having been on both sides of that coin 

I’m a little much for you

I’m a liability 

You keep me around

To maintain the peace 


I plea, I beg

I try to summon the lover

I once walked with

The giant afraid of being tall

While wishing to be bigger 

I’ll be right by your side

I’ll fix you with my love

I continue to forsake myself 

I had a million reasons to leave

But one to stay

I said I’d love you till my body breaks

Death would be easier for me

But my penance is living with the destruction

My love wrought 

So I beg, and I plea, 

I stand in the shadows 

Watching you fill you days

With cheap imitations of happiness 

Sugar coated with coke and other drugs 

Love was too potent for you

I’m the one that suffers

I thought you knew, never to piss off a writer

We’ll describe you in the dark
And still, this love, encompassing all the grandeur and darkness, the bittersweetness of baking chocolate in our collapsed souffle, it still sits here, lifting you, holding me, unable, unwilling to let go just yet. What about us, what about the love, what about all the broken happily ever afters. 
My song for you is a ballad unending, haunted with lyrics you once gave to me. Meanings left hallow, my heart carved into pieces so they still hold weight as they weep. 
Our song may be twelve years long yet.

Haas’s sunny spot

Lost in the grips of Haas, twirling through obscure thoughts and rancid memories, like light filtered through a tree. The squirrels chirp and chip, preparing for the deep cold. It’s already iced my heart. I look longingly into the ember-less fire pit, begging for life. A fire dance. A dance. Dancer. He was my dancer. The leaves rustle and I’m brought back. Only to return, that time he touched me like a breeze. The deep cold. Frozen memories. The glacial pace of healing. It’ll be two winters before I thaw, and I have no more wood to burn. The squirrel chirps again, as if to offer part of its winter horde. Haas said sometimes we are sad animals. I am a cat, without my sunny spot.


Like a shorn tree limb :: the broken heart doesn’t mend :: it grows over, closes, hugs the wound :: visible, hurting, healing :: there’s something still green about the tree :: something still loving about the heart :: a bird still sings


I wanted to celebrate you


Now, left to the side 

I live that memory 


Your smile is beautiful 

And painful 

Your dreams grand 

But limited to your scope of life

Afraid to be bigger than you are 

Still fear missing out on something 

You filled the void I left

With a cheap imitation 

Packed your schedule so your thoughts 

Would not regret 

You knew you were my world 

And I was your Atlas 

Oh sweet love

You did miss out 

On me