I feel as if we are all characters written into someone Else's script, just waiting to wake up in the present and realize that we can pick up the pen and take control of the narrative.
In a stint of soul searching I found myself in a rather a self destructive promiscuous phase post trauma. Because of circumstance I thought my value and worth came through sex. AND IN THIS STINT I WAS ALARMED BY HOW MEN THOUGHT THAT CONTROL came through violence. Real control in sex is not violence, its... Continue Reading →
False Flag Silence IS violent and rage is loud, but sometimes fists hit sand without making a sound. Figure it out. Fake friends are dead ends that see ewe and you and me as a dividend not an investment. And real friends, hope fake friends, get their shit together in the end. Real friends may... Continue Reading →
Rear-View Mirror by Emma Bush 2011 My past is right behind me I can feel its breath on my neck I can’t run forever my legs are tired I’m out of breath. So afraid of what would happen should I stop and face it, I keep running, keep running hoping time will erase it. I've... Continue Reading →
I’m suicide, I’m an option. I’m the back door you think of often. You want a way out and I’ve got one. I’m a relief from the hurt and the sorrow. What pains you today won’t pain you tomorrow. People will forget and life will go on It won’t be long and the memory of... Continue Reading →
There was a night when I was five years old that mom found herself having to calm my wide-eyed anxieties... I had watched the news that day and listened to talk of the possibility of war with Russia... it was probably 1984. That evening a plane flew over our house and I started crying, afraid... Continue Reading →