Letters, Personal, poetry

Medicated and Mighty

I'm spending the day editing my book and making the final touches on some of the poems, order, and other small details!
I'm honestly amazed with myself for how quickly this is coming together now that I actually have the energy to work on it.
(Thank you Wellbutrin for making me feel alive again.)
Here's another sneak peek at one of the poems that will be in the book; one that I feel suits how I've been feeling this week. Let me know your thoughts!

Store bought neurotransmitters

Are just as valid as homemade

Not being able to make your own

Does not make you weak

And taking the steps to receive help

Doesn't make you broken

It makes you strong as hell

⁃ Medicated and mighty

Letters, Personal, poetry

Witchcraft

I am a force of nature
not easily contained
I have magick coursing through me
and every time I open my mouth
I move mountains with my spells
I will not let you walk into my life
and demand that I make myself small
just to make you more comfortable
I am a force of nature
Respect that or prepare to face
my true and abundant force

⁃ a witch who refuses to burn

Personal, poetry

Do Not Fall In Love With A Writer

Writer (noun): reckless, impulsive, capricious, and unapologetic. Never fully satisfied with real life. Do not fall in love with a writer.



I will break your heart in million different ways solely for my art

I will start fights and heal old wounds for the experience 

for the emotions 

for the power it brings to my work

I will make you see yourself in a whole new light

I will give you my sight

In the form of abstract poetry

And let you look through the lens with which I view the world 

And you will not like what you find there

I will write versions of you that make you uncomfortable 

unsure

Or uncertain

Of how to interpret my perspective of you

My love for you 

My raw emotions displayed for everyone else to view

Personal, poetry

Thoughts On: Feminism

Walking to my car

Alone

At night

A vice grip around my keys

Held like a weapon 

It’s a short distance 

But we all know the dangers

We’ve all been taught the dangers

Since we were too young to properly understand them

Too many stipulations on a young existence 

It’s the fear of never knowing true freedom 

The fear of never truly being able to say “No” and be heard

And be validated 

When we’ve all been taught from a young age

How to act

How to dress

How to speak

How to live

How to avoid being a victim

But in these lessons

We were taught something greater

How to stand 

United

Never making a move alone

Stronger together

So we take our stand

And fight

Together

Personal, poetry

When Poetry Lacks Honesty

How many times must I write my way out of a labyrinth? I thought I had done this before but it never suffices. The feeling inside me never ceases. Time and time again I pick up a pen to scratch words out onto paper but the itch never stops.

Only now, something feels different. Something’s off, askew, out of balance; and I’m not quite sure how to place this feeling. It’s a lackluster sense of words with no meaning. A sign too far away to read clearly. 

Never conveying any specific meaning. I set it down. I set everything down. And I feel my world start to cave in around me. 

Eyeing my escape, I run straight and fast into the wall in front of me, blindly, with no obligation to the world around me. But this isn’t the high I seek. I never wanted “the calm after the storm”; I crave the lightning.

Storms settle my capricious soul. Swept up in the thunder and heavy clouds I find my peace of mind. Because here, I can let my soul scream with no fear of being heard. 

Thunder drowns out my yells and shouts of obscenities. Where most people run for cover, I unleash my loudest thoughts. Not a poetic mixture of rain drops and tears, but a chaotic combination of my heart and a hurricane.

Yet here I am. Trapped in a place where it never rains enough to keep my mind’s fire at bay. So the shouts in my head never cease but are dulled by the ever-flowing ocean of ink spilling from my veins.

poetry

Certainty

I feel your warmth as you lay against me

with the rhythm of your heart beating in your chest

keeping time, keeping pace,

keeping the storm raging in my head at bay

and leaving behind my long-forgotten peace of mind.

 

In this moment, my mind stops racing

and everything goes quiet.

In this moment, the constant over thinking means nothing

and you,

you are everything.

 

It’s just me and you,

pressed too close together,

and for once, I don’t feel claustrophobic.

For once, I don’t need you to back away;

I only want you to come closer.

 

I have always been indecisive about everything,

except for you.

I have always been certain about you.

 

It takes me 15 minutes,

and two panic attacks,

just to decide on a flavor of ice cream

but I never second-guess you.

 

I have always been certain about you.