Getting High

I started smoking again just to prove how over you I am.

I found 5 pointed stars in my bed,

Tore my sheets and poked microscopic holes in my mattress.

A dip in the terrain for every night you’ve spent.

I sleep over 3D maps and contemplate earthquakes now.

The mountains you created make knots in my back,

My lows don’t feel so low anymore;

While the highs,

Hurt a hell of a lot more

Than the lows

Ever did.



I wish my jeans were smaller

that I would speak less about things I don’t know about.

Even with my size

I feel I carry such heavyweight;

In my words

or my expressions.

I walk with my head down

and I have a nice curve down my spine.

I’m always carrying a backpack

and my shoes are too tight.

I crash into strangers

because I think I take up too much space.

Blue vs. Orange

I went to an estate sale.

A woman was selling a baby blue guitar.

“It’s yours — I’m moving to Aruba.”

And off I went with baby blue in hand.

As Blue as an Aries,

was the name of the band.

There was a boy in navy blue swim trunks playing in a South Jersey blue hole.

I blushed at the site of him — pink.

I put down my guitar and started to paint my hair shades of blue.

Streaky and soft,

like watercolor ink.

I found a man in orange,

offering me warm bearded kisses.

I didn’t want them but I was cold.

“This could be a good move for me,” I thought.

I went to the bathroom to wash the paint out,

but the whole room was blue.


Batter Up!

Some people are the waves.

Some people are the ocean.

But me,

I’m the whole damn thing.



I missed the night.IMG_3698

I smoked passion flower,

left a water bottle open in my bag,

slept with lipstick and glitter

for 12 hours and it’s still not enough.

You were in my dream–

at least a part of you was.

My childhood fish friend decided to move in with me.

It’s always dark now,

in every dream,

Blue, Black, Grey silvers of light

form the non-existing moon bounce off of puddles and trees.

I want to hide.

I want to be seen.

I don’t know which one I want more.

I am surrounded by vomit,


and sleepiness,

and disappointment.

When did everything I write become so dark?


Quit gagging (it’s not what you think)

I thought seeing you would make me feel better,

but now I feel worse.

As if I didn’t hate them already.

As if I needed another reason.

I would tell you if it was your fault,

but it’s really not.

I would speak the words

if they didn’t make me so sick.

I would say them loud

if I wasn’t already gagging.

Some people make you feel worse

while some make you feel better.




Tart cherry,

I lost my grandmother’s ring.

The one with the rose quartz

and silver wire wrap. 

I’m kneeling on my carpet 

looking for wet spots.

I’m always picking up and putting down

such odd flavors. 



I wish someone would saw my insides out.

Hack me down like an old oak tree

Finally, let out

these butterflies

rotting in my gut.

I can’t eat.

I can’t sleep.

Zak told me to take everything with a grain of salt.

I told him I love the taste too much.



They sprinkled edible glitter on me.

How I wish I shined more,

How I wish someone would swallow me whole.


12, 13, 14

I threw out Temperance in a large white garbage bag.

The Hanged Man jumped in.

I held the flower flag of Death

and waited for them to be crushed,

but Temperance had other plans.

She slit open the bag from the inside

and all the trash spilled out with her.

Filthy, she ran into the woods.

The Hanged Man remained blissfully at rest

in his dirty tomb.

I was Death

and searched for skulls on the dirt road.