sometimes stopping the pain is the end of it all

i see death in your silhouette

no, death is intimate and romantic

i see void

i see vast emptiness

a life where nothing lives

no parasite will feast

fleas, lice and the like scatter

even the most basic of chemical reactions

can speak fluently in survival

and where you linger, life does not

you suck love, light and happiness

from the souls of the pure

leaving them demented, tortured

banging their heads in sanitariums

selective serotonin re-uptake inhibitors

anti-psychotics and shock therapy

when all else fails…

drilling holes in proper places and pour the ethanol

the torture you carry drenched in midnight ejaculation

self service, self rise, self satisfy, self depraved

narcissus and his pool of water-a swimming lesson

you are noxious when kind, napalm for the soul

great and mighty, papaver somniferum, the human equalizer

dripping, oozing, squirting madness onto trembling hands

but today your taste does not linger in my mouth

there is no fleeting euphoria of you swimming inside

as beautiful as you can appear, dear poppy,

your delicate petals swirling  lavenders, reds and pinks

springing from pale green pods-breath taking in every way

i now drift to sleep in the arms of true love

and i have never slept so soundly




erosion of my stone heart

i thought we would hold hands forever

i have fought your demons and monsters

begging and bargaining to keep you safe

processed pressed turkey loaf and instant tea

plastic spoons for everyone’s protection

i walk the memories in the hallway of my mind

i find pictures of who we used to be

the romanticized versions of the you and the me

i have always been able to tell myself lies

i tried to love you sane

i wanted to love you happy

i wished to love you to life

but i am not enough to live for you

i took the belt, the shame, the wrath

when he exploded in blind rage

i wouldn’t eat until you ate first

i was a child raising someone else’s child

i would have gouged my eyes to keep you from crying

i am no saint

i am no pacifist

broken fingers, black eyes, fist fights, name calling

and more and more and more and more

two lifetimes of more

words like carbon monoxide suffocating your kids

phone calls, threats, lies

calculating measurements ensuring scar-tissue:

“it’s taking you so long to die…just do it already!”

red and blue flashing lights men in uniform on my porch

love for a girl and a boy while refusing you access

denying you the ability to steer my life

gives justification for an avant garde war of the roses

i have given up on the illusion of sisterhood

i learned you will never ask how i am doing

i learned i don’t need you to ask

i learned my soul can sing and shine

i can laugh from deep inside without worry or shame

when there is no smog or poison wringing all of me

i hope you find a happiness one day

daddy’s last wish was i take care of you

but i have to say goodbye and i can not say hello again




waiting for the hands on the clock to applaud

i can feel the all of me swinging

the back and forth motion

learning from the past is nice

but living in the now is deadly

just a taste

a tiny little taste

just one

then it can be put away

i am too tired

every bit of me screams

my daily torture and torment

hooded ladies with lips of poppies

velvet and warm and dreaming

forgetting for moments

the tragedy and carnage

no more words of importance

a respite from political correctness

i wish it could be true….

pain dissolved in water

but i am me

i am “aswang”*




*aswang-filipino folklore-a shape-shifter.  the aswang can appear as a shy, innocent human then change into horrible, vampire-like monsters who feed on fetuses, babies and children.

*trigger warning* sunshine on my face

i thought we had been carved of stone

one power, three goddesses

it was a romantic thought

 daydream, a silly wish on a silly star

how could i be a me alone

there was no me-only us

or that is what was whispered in my ear

frantic phone calls, sirens

holidays celebrated under suicide watch

getting  naked, tweaked-out mom into the car

calls from jails

calls from friends

calls from doctors

calls from children

fist fights

broken bones

blood, sweat, guts and tears

promises made then discarded

no honor among the deluded

coming into my home

wearing queer-phobia proudly

like a halston design pill hat

calculating, judging with unearned arrogance

looking as if shit was smeared on your upper lip

repossession of presents and pictures

decades of begging, pleading, bribing, stealing

i am mutilated and monsterous

begging for validation left my knees bleeding

then thaumaturgy! magic realizations:

love is not a chain tethering to ensure outcome

home is not an asylum with fear hiding in shadows

and there is the triple divinity that has always lived inside


i think that is what god must look like

two tiny slivers of moonlight

escaped and hid in the darkest of places

each emerging out tucked safely and soundly

in the blood and the guts of two sisters

the oldest girl named for flowers

drooping buds of beauty on bushes

the younger girl named of aromatic leaves

wove together and sat on the head of royals

both girls able to heal and love and shine

and they did

singing songs as the sunlight hit their eyes

proudly and loudly singing into dreamland

they would dance and whirl and twirl

each owning a fascination with the magically mundane

raindrops, stars, two story houses, glitter and lipstick

a love affair with pencils that gibran couldn’t capture

but nothing stays the same, the ebb and flow

even when you are wrapped in moonlight

everything moves, spins, twists, goes

when the singing stopped and stories started

stories of monsters and evil, depravity, lechery

compassion was pointed in the wrong direction

two girls who would never be girls again

naked, exposed and alone, mask making for survival

when life hands you lemons, you make lemonaid

what the fuck happens when life hands you junk

melt it down and live the only way you can

i hope one day two daughters of the moon

will laugh from deep within and sing off key

twirl until they’re dizzy and dance like no one is watching

when i talk to the celestial sisterhood, begging vehemently

i ask the two be granted something long denied, much deserved


falling face first onto concrete-the last memory of past lives

ghosts from twenty-something years ago still haunting

staying hidden in the rafters of my subconscious, waiting

quiet and unobtrusive until weakness ushers in opportunity

then the cartoon flip book of broken memories comes out

white pages filled with diluted recall, attempts at justification

rudimentary stick figures act out the events as if on broadway

playing out the drunken stupor and decisions taken away

the flash of faces in a dream or featured in a commercial

seeing the eyes in maniacs screaming in ecstasy at dog fights

the smiles of demons spread across the faces of mall walkers

holding onto sanity simply due to the inability to see it all

silent thanks whispered in the wind and rain for amnesia

but leaving behind the gift of toxicity and social immortality

enough to make the nuns run in fear hands over mouths

heavy chains preventing escape rattle when the past lives

the clairvoyance of betrayal and dismissal as heads turn

family, friends, lovers quickly retreating into the darkness

there was no dissension as the unspeakable sins began

the women walking away quickly, a thanks it was not them

the men remaining, watching, preparing dicks hard and ready

wrists and ankles bruised, hair full of lawn clippings and pollen

clothes tattered and torn, the smell of dried blood permeating

stumbling through city streets baking in the texas summer sun

falling into the house, my safety, my refuge, i was finally home

there were questions i could not ask, answers i could not face

a hepatic hiccup under control, keeping the monsters at bay

the missing details can scratch the brain in moments of quiet

boones farm and rohypnal guarding the psyche against invasion

the history of a girl from long ago, the death of the yellow rose

silent night, holy night (trigger warning- graphic rape and death and truth)

there are many monsters finding homes in shadows

setting up shop in back alleys and underground tunnels

they get together and draw a picture of a predator

detailing his pointy teeth, goatee, gold medallions

getting lost in the forest of chest hair

the hunched shoulders

the van of abduction

white tinted windows with logos of ice cream

“children you need to be careful and don’t go with strangers”

“you can get hurt, they can do bad things!”

“stranger danger”

the stories of pedophiles peddling candy to the innocent

or the box of puppies used to entice little girls and boys away

we forget about the children who go home and the evil emerges

the hunter in a stand waiting with bated breath for game

the villain in the walls and the fear and hatred of life

the turning of heads and denial of responsibility by others

“sorry, kiddo, i gotta work then i have a yoga class, busy schedule”

there is no hideaway

no treehouse

no neighbor with rosy cheeks

the good boys and girls have been told by their mommies and daddies

that you are not the good person they should be seen in public with

and even though you are not to blame you are not to be talked to

you carry in your hands the alpha and omega of karmic proportions

a very sad victim of circumstance

drugs, rocknroll and rape

the screaming voice

begging for help

has been taken and burned

any chance of escape slips further away

as you watch more and more

initiates into the taboo of moral decline and killers of ego

dance past with a smile, a nod, a pat on the head

all the while you maintain a constant look out

for the escape hatch or hidden button

the scooby doo bookcase that flips you into the safety

a passageway between your bed and the outside

outside is more inviting than home

when the devil sees you

honing in on an opportunity

to revisit the room full of dolls

dolls with the sparkling happy faces and the hymen intact

you know the routine

turn your head

eyes closed

block it out

don’t make a sound

this is the emmy winning drama “the rapist of my life”

you were left and he took over

breaking promises

forging lies of glittering silver and needle marks

you can smell it in his sweat dripping on your face

the egg of death and starter fluid

a gooey violent center


sending sickness swimming

down your thighs

the dreams of ponies, rainbows, and pretty pink flowers

have been boxed up and given away to other children

you have no more time for things such as those

there is no use to have dolls when you can have babies

bearing the sin of the father

growing and nurturing

your childhood replaced with a child of your own

a ten year old mother

smart enough and strong enough

to find a hope and a prayer

for the salvation of the future

after the midnight “bonding”

the taking and shaking

as mother screams “why do you want her more than me”

it’s safe to close your eyes and search for a hope and a safety

a time of frantic praying to anything

a wish on every star

“star light star bright first star i see tonight

i wish i may

i wish i might

have the wish i wish tonight!”

soothing words

a song of hope that died long ago

reborn renewed

a prayer

a mantra

a dream

a fantasy

begging the omnipotent

the one who turned on you as you face the house of horrors alone

god and the devil in casinos and your life as betting chips

rolling dice and drinking shots while you becoming the new job

growing a monster

made of a monster

in a monster paradise

the king dick of killers of innocence and murderers of love

the repo man hitching your innocence up and towing it away

the last hope

the only solace left in the darkness and terror

the cold dark blood stained sheets and the pillow soaked in tears

the thing that will be human

it moves and kicks twisting inside

a light

one ray of hope shining through the curtain and darkness

pacts and promises offered and no response from the shop upstairs

it moves


expanding your belly

eating the baby fat still left in your cheeks

you are no longer a baby and it is time that you are a woman

the mother of your brother who grows inside planted by the father

the off ramps all closed for repair

leaving only one escape

as the water spills down

mixing with the nightly bank deposits

the liquid reminder that you are daddy’s favorite girl and toy

as the mother screams in jealous rages and forgets her duties

the morality killed by needles full of poison and insanity

the problems of the screaming devils no longer audible

the only sound is the sound of catching your breath in pain

the sound of your feet scurrying for the items packed away

the case of preparation built months before in silence

“the next pain it will be time, are you ready? you can do it!”

legs and feet prepared, all the ritual tools at the ready

10 year old birth canal in action

the magical truth found-the life and death of everything

it is never clean

never pretty

blood in blood out

as the pain begins under the ribs

moving down

the huge mass folding in on itself

body screaming

there will be no baby, no doll, it’s time for daddy’s girls to go

no prayers, no crying, one sound heard:a shot to the head

the unholy product is taken gently by the silence of the newly dead