the long slow kiss goodbye

i am running out of addresses

no more places to hide

i knew if i let myself bleed once

it would never stop

if i exposed one bit of me

i would go up in a blaze of unglory

and here it is puddles of blood

the insides of me outside

for all the world to laugh at

rubbed raw with sandpaper

dried spit from passersby in my eye

there are no more tears left

i gave up on me last night

all the grit all the grime all the fight

i packed it in a neat little box

and started the funeral pyre

the curse is no matter how i beg

no matter how much i plead

no matter how much i bleed

i can’t escape

i am glued to this spot

eyes wide open

watching the world watch the freakshow of me

rocks slamming my head

and then the venus walks up and twists my heart

to remind me how sweet death would be

and how far away i am from it

there is no rest for the wicked

pouring my heart out

i have been working so hard on our new zine.  it’s an incredible project!  not just for the amazing people and their amazing work, it’s the open and diverse.  and although i love it, sometimes it is a bit exhausting.  it’s like everything else in life-busting ass is the only way to accomplish.  in that busting ass there is happiness, fear, loathing, excitement and overwhelming elation, but i have let my blogging and poetry fall by the wayside.  some of you know i started another blog, i am coming back to this one, this is my home.  i am hoping to keep up with my blogging and poetry; i set a goal to write a poem at least once a week.

for those of you curious about the zine-mostly because it’s bad ass- here is the link:

sorry it is not available for mobile viewing…we can’t afford the plan that allows for that privilege.  if you would like to help we have a gofundme account:

son of isaac, son of abraham

i don’t know how to feel lost


hogtied eyes forced open

to watch the destruction

no escaping the fire of wrath

caused by narcissism and loathing

loathing women, loathing different, loathing her

she is not her actions

she is not her words

a beautiful girl who should just know

know how to cope with the adult shit the adults are failing at

know how to show love when love has always had limits

know how to be the perfect angel at the end of your fist

i saw who you were

the finger prints on the throat

because bitches talk too much

because bitches cry too much

because bitches should mind their manners

i saw her see her mom beat so many times

i saw her believe that was love

everyone knew the goblet of hatred would spill over

everyone knew it would just be a matter of time

before she would be drowning in fear

shaking leaf like about a phone call

escape plans in the ready

i see the scars of watching her mother

watching the torture, the violence, the degradation

scars when razor meets flesh in an intimate setting

i see the coldness required to survive

a child afraid to live because it hurts too bad

a punch to the shoulder, slamming her down to the floor

standing, demanding the crying to stop

sprawled on the floor after your hands tossed her down

where is the knight to rescue the princess

how long can she stay locked away without losing it

how long until her knight is just like you

i should have stepped on the gas

you should have been a speed bump

your jehovah is gone

dealing with those worthy of a god’s intervention

one day we will taste freedom

one day she will taste freedom

one day you will get your dues

when that day comes the crazy whores will dance in the streets

then you will waste away while no one cares