Self-prescribed expectations 

of a birthday, almost

20 is an adult already. 

Needs a license

a car

a boyfriend, significant 

other, lover

work, work, work

on digging in the dirt. 

You need a vacation

sunset destination. 

Always buried under

something, unfortunately

not a man, they scoff

she must be empty 

hearted, full minded. 

A social experiment

in anxiety.  



Lust is




eyebrow raises


a classroom range.

An academic



The Empty Honey Jar

I think I swallowed the hornets’ nest.
An aggravated swelling cries
from my intestines, mangling, deforming
a chemically established equilibrium.
My stomach revolts, nausea
as my pores cry, sweaty droplets.

Unsolicited, I negotiate
with the insistent humming,
Deaf, they continue to sting,
using their asses as comrades
to my anxiety induced by
twelve more chapters and two more labs and dynamics, statics, equilibrium, chemical and otherwise, GPA’s balanced on finals and stupid boys, clever boys, no friends, too many friends, no time, why am I so bored again, and crushing, demoralizing exhaustion hung below my eyes.
Nature is mad, tonight.



Today, she woke up
two years ago, mesmerized
by nighttimes raven calls,
singing remembrance. She forgot
to quantify the hour, so early,
in clean arithmetic.
Stumbling, drunk on ethers,
on aethers, her mind an illusion
as it dances in morning dark.
Blissful, ignorant reminiscence
tainted with quixotic ideals.
She leaves the lights off.


Personal Atonement

Hesitance tempered with longing,

wrenches the door open, releases

a fine layer of dust into the air.

It plays in the light, overly simple,

that seems to emanate from everywhere

and nowhere. The prior sensation wins

but my feet, heavy, trudge on

into the hallway of nostalgia, previously barricaded

from my over idealistic mind.

“Something wicked this way comes.”

He appears before me like a symbol

of misplaced day dreams, wasted

what if’s and if only’s, but no!

I am awake. I am seeing flesh.

With each step my stomach revolts, nausea,

my mind recoils with indoctrinated reluctance

but I banish those too familiar emotions.

“Hi,” a simple phrase, over wrought in honey,

tasting sweet but feeling sweaty on my tongue.

He turns, releases a galaxy worth of light,

repays me with an equal worth of syllables,

and returns to his previous engagement.

Prospectively, this is little, nearly nothing

but to me, it is enough: it will muzzle

the demons, hold their tongues at bay.

Perhaps I will sleep tonight.





To Cry

More numb now, I only cry
over the disapproving scarlet ink,
no longer for the way you
said my name, half smirking, half sincere
when you tormented me
like a chuckling God, or more.
Self-imposed deity with an arrogance
unmatched but charming
to my naivety. I enjoyed the misery
you unintentionally broke me with
because it was yours and through your careless.
confidence, I pretended, mine.
You, an untouchable blemish in my mind,
purposely out of reach for self preservation.
Over optimistic of the power of hours, days, months,
my thoughts touch were you left the void
and again, my eyes vomit, reluctant misery.


Harm Done

“I’m not hurt”, I’ll say, painted apathy,
as my toes curl, crooked nails
cringing into the carpet, hoping
to root themselves in misguided honesty.
My stomach rages, as a hurried breakfast
shipwrecks itself, an afternoon tragedy,
on top of the dying butterflies.

Because he didn’t hurt me, I know
this is not an act of cerebral treason
or preemptive protection against them,
armed with their lily intentions, forced grins,
but a half acceptance that I’d never
even settled in his lap, half-hearted diversion,
no more than a feather weight attraction,
still trapped in eight months ago.