Posted in Poetry, Writing

Chasing After Dark

I can’t stay in here forever

Best to cover up these welts

If I let a word slip off my tongue

I’ll bring him the belt

It was just a Tuesday

There was no occasion

I’ll say I fell and that’s

the cause of the abrasions

She’s sharper than that

But she’s dull in execution

Her tactics are dissimilar

in that she thinks it’s an illusion

Won’t someone remember

that I’m a living, breathing being

And if you can make sense of that,

then I hope you’ll stop these things

Formally, I am

Chasing after dark until I can’t

Chasing after dark, until I can’t

I choose expressions wisely

My syntax is at war

My bruises are emblazoned,

my speech an underscore

She tells me I still love him

Or if I don’t, I should

Internally, there’s enmity

On the outside, cherry wood

Won’t someone remember

me, the way I smiled

A happy image to affix

to my bluish skin- my “style”

Formally, I am

Chasing after dark until I can’t

Chasing after dark, until I can’t

I wear these faces well, I think

but my body is rejecting

the transplant

I was chasing after dark, until

I slowed up the pace

Now I steady towards an outlet,

before I once again make haste

Posted in Poetry, Writing

La Moitié (3 Over 8)

Scanning for defining features
Birdsong fills the amphitheater
Open air and open heart
Playing target, game of darts

Do your worst, in a sense
I only dream in perfect tense
and when I wake up out of sorts,
the open window’s heaven-sent

Mental notes and update systems
I can’t see the difference in them
People gather where there’s nothing,
so they feel a part of something

I was younger once, you know
I’ve archived that identity
It wasn’t all that long ago
that I would oscillate with the anemone

So do your worst, he says
He only dreams in perfect tense
And if the lights are out ahead,
you’ll know he once was interested

No detected fever there
Projected in the theater, where
there’s wreckage in an envelope
Signed, encrypted, sealed with hope

He’s half of who he wants to be
Half-and-half duplicity
Watered down and passed its prime
Half himself away each time

He gives half himself away
Sets half his heart ablaze
He’ll be whole again, one day, he may
He’ll be whole again,
One day

Posted in Writing


I am evenly split between

careful and careless

I am three parts panicked,

and two parts scare-less

Armed with psychosis,

perched upon my shoulder

Pecking at my brain;

keeping me

the same

I’m writing a book of poetry, and above is but a small excerpt of the content therein. 😄

I’m going to scour through years of writing, collecting anything that jumps out at me. Maybe I’ll make some editions, to reflect a more current version of myself and my identity, and juxtapose both the original and the update. I’ll tie up loose ends, finish the unfinished, wrap up the cliffhangers, and throw in some free balloons for good measure.

Just kidding on that last bit. OR am I?

an{notations} coming sometime in the not-so-near-but-eventual ass future. Check back for updates that I may or may not post.



Posted in Poetry, Writing


I’m forcing these words out

like square pegs in round holes

Shave down the sides

so they’ll find their place

without their souls

Where are my keys,

and which doors do they unlock?

If I make it upstairs,

can I rearrange your thoughts?

Come join me down here

parce que j’ai peur

And cultivating discontent,

c’est pire que n’abattre des fleurs


I am your opposite

I never wanted this,

I never wanted this

Artificial intelligence

Whatever the pretense is,

Disproven hypothesis

that I never wanted this


I never wanted this

Posted in Life, Writing

5/7/19, 12:47 am

Maybe I’m better when transient. That seems to be the case.

To be transient is to be temporary. To be fleeting. To be ephemeral. If I don’t let the dust settle, then I’ll never get to the part where there’s a chance I might feel any sort of devastation, or longing, or lacking, or incongruity.

I’ll ride out every temporary high, and chase down the next one when I feel myself coming down from the last. I’ll never truly ground myself, because that would give way to the potentiality of negative feeling. That just wouldn’t feel good. It’d cause me to have to look inwards, and I wouldn’t want to have to confront or acknowledge my shortcomings.

My vice is running away from even a trace of discomfort. My muse. My schtick. If I can avoid that altogether, why would I evaluate any other option?

I am who I am until I’m not, and then I’m someone new. I don’t know who came before me, or who will take my place next.

What I do know is that I cannot sustain this manner of being. And that I don’t do anything to change.

Stream of consciousness; 5/7/19, 1:03 am.

Posted in Family, Writing


You would have been 97 yesterday. It’s hard to believe that it’s been nearly two years already since you left us.

I see you in strangers all the time. I look at them, and I’m struck by your presence in such a way that I can’t really describe or explain. But I know you’re still with us, and I take great comfort in that.

Sometimes, I still can’t believe that you’re gone. It feels like you’re still around, and it’s as if I forget, in a sense, from time to time. I don’t quite understand it myself.

We weren’t as close as I’d have liked. Still, I grew up with you, and the void left by the empty chair at family gatherings now is noticeable. I miss your stories. Your pipe collection. Your cheek kisses upon greeting or saying goodbye. I miss hearing the muffled, loved-up bickering between you and grandma through the floor when I was growing up. I miss our Christmas morning brunches. I miss you.

You made quite the impact.

I hope that your reunion with grandma was one for the books. I hope that your mind, heart, and soul are now all at ease. You deserve it.

I love you, and I hope you’ll continue to let us know you’re watching over.

See you again someday. ❤️

Posted in Poetry, Writing


Every day

I fall in with the crowd

and I make my way

through the same parade

Every day

The dancing, jarring sounds

that scare me awake

and take notice away

From everyday me

in everyday pain

Wearing everyday clothing

over everyday shame

And I hide what I know

from the wolves in the crowd

Who would tear me to pieces

for thinking too loud

So every day

I fall in line

and I wait my turn

to fall back out

Posted in Life, Writing

Everything I Eat Tastes Like Throat Lozenge: A Memoir

I accidentally took someone else’s socks out of the dryer today when I did laundry, which means two things: they accidentally left them behind, and I didn’t check.

Gross. I threw them out. I thought for a moment to be a good person and put them back in the laundry room, but I didn’t feel like taking the elevator all the way down three floors. Fortunately, it was two matching socks, and not just one. Which means there’s no chance their owner had one, and was desperately searching for its twin. Out of sight, out of mind, I always say. I don’t actually always say that.

I’m sick, and I’ve been taking a few days to disconnect from WordPress (and from my mind) to focus on other life stuff and to rest. I’ve felt negligent. But I have some exciting ideas for future blog posts which are currently incubating in my saved drafts. I’ll take my time to write them and make them the best they can be before I publish them, but I’m really looking forward to putting them out into the world. I hope you’ll enjoy them too.

To tide you over, here are some current goings-on in my life. You know, to keep you updated.

  • Current position: sitting; leftist
  • Current state: alive; under the weather; Washington; solid
  • Currently reading: Yes Please, by Amy Poehler; into something I said probably 6 years and 4 months ago
  • Currently playing: Xenoblade Chronicles 2
  • Current weather: rainy and cool, with a chance of sarcasm (but not meatballs)
  • Current favorite albumInner Monologue Pt. 1 by Julia Michaels
  • Currently watchingWill & Grace, the original series, for the millionth time over, and Homecoming
  • Currently in view: my phone screen; my ceiling in the background, as I’ve changed positions since I began writing this list and am now lying down; boyfriend in left peripheral; candle burning in right peripheral
  • Current (new) position: lying down; leftist still
  • Currently thinking: ‘hmm, what am I currently thinking?’
  • Currently wishing: that there were more hours in the day to dedicate enough time to everything and everyone
  • Currently wondering: why bad people happen to good animals
  • Currently dreading: having to set an alarm for tomorrow
  • Currently missing: my family and hometown friends; Texas Roadhouse since they don’t exist in Seattle 😑
  • Currently working on: writing a book 😄; myself; learning to code; parking effectively so I avoid getting tickets; bettering my French
  • Current time: 1:21 a.m. pacific time (as of this bullet point)
  • Currently craving: a good night’s rest; a milkshake
  • Currently wanting: enough money to fully furnish the apartment and buy all the things
  • Currently feeling: unwell; fatigued; a little homesick; lost; snackish
  • Current unsavory habit(s): avoiding confrontation; frequently drinking energy drinks
  • Currently proud of: myself for what I’ve accomplished, for taking back the reigns in various aspects of my life
  • Currently regretting: not holding myself accountable in certain respects
  • Currently planning: a trip to Denver in May, to Buffalo in July; my return to school in the next year to complete my Bachelor’s
  • Currently imagining: what it will be like if/when I reach all the goals I’ve set for myself
  • Current fruit of choice: Bosc pears 🍐
  • Current drink of choice: limeade
  • Currently driving: a 2001 Crown Victoria; myself and my boyfriend crazy probably
  • Currently doing: blogging
  • Currently breathing: yeah

With that, I shall leave you for the time being. I’d like to note before I go, though, that it is now 1:53 a.m., which means it took me 32 minutes to write everything between the current time bullet point, and the end of this post. Which, in turn, means that I thought long and hard about what to write, so I could share some deep, introspective ass content with you.

You’re welcome and I’ll see you next time.

Posted in Pocket Poetry, Writing


Indifference has steamrolled me

into a flat fucking mess

And now I am but a pattern mishap

on the tarmac

I sacrifice sleep to allow

these thoughts to freely flow

To allow the apathy

to freely grow

But he who has no spine knows best:

He is shapeless and malleable;

able to change

While I am fully formed and solid

and I stand firm

in the impermanence

of feeling

Posted in Blogosphere, Writing

I let my voice be heard, then listen for the echo

If your blog had a theme song, what would it be? Feel free to give the why behind your choice, or not. 🙂 Leaving it open to interpretation could lead to some quite insightful thoughts.

I just decided this now, but I think mine would be My Song, by Alessia Cara (one of the lines from which is the title of this post).

Keep in mind that whatever you choose doesn’t have to relate to your blog’s content.

And… go!