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About Yesterday

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Yesterday, I did not turn around.
There was some comment
About how I'm a blonde now, 
But, I'm not.

"It's bleach,"

I let you pretend
That our house wasn't on fire.

"Do you like it?"

You ask this in a way that reminds me
 you like to make my mouth your favorite fishing spot.


"It's whatever,"
I've learned a lot about lying from you.



You only came over to look around.
But you've covered your eyes.



I look over and I see your child 
Repeating the same mantra,

"I am not a dock, there are no fish here,"



We repeat this together until you leave.
And then you do.



Our life resumes.




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Passion’s Redirection

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It breaks my heart when something I believed in, disappoints me in the biggest ways. Perhaps, you know this feeling too. At some point, we all do – mothers, wives, caretakers, musicians, scientists – wherever you fall on the continuum, you are appreciated. You are worthy of your purpose.

Your story does not have to end, nor does your soul wish to remain useless; it may just be time to trail off the beaten path, or simply take a break.

As a passionate person, I thrive on fighting for good. I thrive when other people are lifted up. While I acknowledge my ego’s existence, I genuinely love helping people.

As you may have predicted, this sometimes pigeonholes me. I am often put in a position for the world to devour me, without so much as giving my spirit back.

Things are looking up, however. I met a beautiful friend, named Katelynn:
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I was able to get rent paid, finally; this affords me more time to get all the details of everything together to see where the road takes me. Moving into a bigger state would be a better option for me, for a number of reasons, including better health care.

I’m looking forward to seeing where the wind takes me, and I hope to see you around.

I love you.
Welcome home.
You’re safe here.





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Happy Birthday, Mommy.

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Hey there. Today is April 17th, 2019. Today is mom’s birthday. Today is also the sixteenth anniversary of her passing on April 17th, 2003. Some folks are kind of shocked to realize that she died on her birthday. Like… almost as if it was a bad omen, or as if it was unfortunate. I’ve always thought it was a matter of perspective.

These are some heavy times for the lovers, the introverts, and the givers.

At the risk of coming across as blasphemous, I am personally glad my mother is not here to bear the burden of these polarizing trials life has handed to us.

Perhaps I may have had a rough decade or so and maybe my view’s a bit skewed. I digress.

As time goes on, the blindfolds come off; allowing my worldview to grow exponentially. I am grateful for growing pains. I hope to experience as many as I can.

My mother only lived to be twenty-seven.
I am currently twenty-six.

Admittedly, I have recently been plagued by the hope that I will not die at twenty-seven like my mother. This phenomenon is not uncommon; though I do find it odd how it hit me so suddenly, so heavily.

Death will not come for me. I will not allow it. Give me another five years at the very least and then we’ll talk. 😉

I’m kidding. Pretending is something I am atrocious at. Therefore, I won’t pretend that I plan to evade the reaper. On the other hand, I do not intend to go down without a fight. I have always struck out only to come back swinging.

Ask about me. 😉

My destiny does not have to align with my mother’s, and I don’t think she wants that for me. I will not allow her passing to override the joy of my own aging. (Honestly, I think I get more attractive the older I get). I’ll be a hot old lady.

I love the confidence that comes with aging.
I wish I was able to witness more people embracing the passage of time.

My mother was so young. She was just starting out. She had such love and light to give to others. She was hurt easily. She loved easily. The classic blessing begets the classic curse.

I have definitely followed in her shoes when it comes to being a lover. I love, and love, and love. These days, it’s called codependence. If love is my affliction, I think I’m doing pretty good for myself.

I didn’t love my mother as I should have. Who knows love at ten? Though, I love her now, every day, fully. There is not a day that goes by that she does not cross my mind. It is a feeling that cannot be grasped.

Yet, I can think of no one who deserved the freedom of the afterlife as much as my warrior of a mother.

I love you, Ma. I love you with all of my heart. I think of you daily. I know you don’t like to see me agonize over life the way I often do. So, I’m trying to get my shit together, Ma. I’m writing again. I try to be a good wife. I talk about you a lot. I wish I could see films about you. But, that wouldn’t suffice. Take care of your granddaughter for me. I miss her every day since I lost her. Though, I sure am glad she got to meet you on her own. My stories of you wouldn’t do you justice. I love you. I’ll be alright. I’ll be alright, Ma. Sleep good, beautiful. How lucky I am to have my daughter and my mother as guides.

Happy Birthday Mom ♥





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To you, Sweet Baby

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I cant seem to smoothly connect with you in person, to no fault of your own. My baby, I know that you’re trying. It pains me a bit to know that I love you on paper, more than I do right beside you.

Still, when I am gone, I will leave my writing to you, since all of this was inspired by you, and written for you, by me in the first place.

I love you. I admire you. These words will never suffice, because my anxiety, and codependent thoughts get in the way.

I really appreciate you.

Seven years. We’ve been through your gender transition, the loss of our only biological child, our family stepped out quietly. And I’m not the greatest at coping with Cerebral Palsy.

You still bathe me. You still clothe me.

You still hold me. You hold me when rent is past due; when the debts are high and the accounts are low, you still hold me. You believe I am worthy to be embraced.

You play Stardew Valley with me. You make time for me.

You believe I taught you what love was, simply because I stay; when it is you teaching me how to love – calmly, steadfastly, and quietly.

Thank you.

I love you always.

-Your Wife

F*ck it. Smile.

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You know how we see motivational speakers and when they’re done speaking, for a few minutes we believe the world won’t eat us alive? Me too.

I’m not saying that your dreams are too far out of reach; I’m not saying that you shouldn’t believe their light.

I’m saying that at this very moment, I’ve done all of the things that my spirit and creator asked of me. I’ve pushed myself out of my comfort zone, I’ve let myself see and be seen, and I’m proud of myself.

Still, it sucks when then there is little to show for it.

If you’ve put your last few dollars into a dream, your last bit of faith in a cause that seems to turn it’s head, if you’ve struggled to see results, or if you’ve doubted your purpose at all, I’m here with you.

When It seems easier to light a match and watch it all burn, while simultaneously flipping the debris a middle finger, (I can’t believe I’m about to say this) SMILE.

Can’t pay rent? Fuck it. Something will shake, or you’ll move on. See the road.

Got cancer? Fuck it. You’re still alive and beautiful. Your sickness does not define your legacy.

Homeless? Fuck it. Mortgages are expensive.

Negative in the bank account? Well, now you damn sure cant give those thieves your money.

I empathize with you, and I say these things to help laughter bubble up in your chest.

When we can’t choose anything else, we can choose to laugh.

I love you.

Welcome Home.

You’re safe here. <3

Oh hey, it’s me again.

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I’m currently working on my podcast and patreon for y’all. In the meantime, I’ll be uploading more poetry.

I’m Here For You

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Instead of telling you to keep going, instead of telling you that things will improve, I will sit with you. I will shoulder that burden with you. I will sleep on that floor with you. I will eat in the dark with you. I will lurk on the streets with you. I’ll break through windows so that you can feed your hungry children, with you. I will be there as you cry yourself to sleep for the fourth time this week. I’ll be there when life’s laughing at you, yet again. I’ll be there. Thank you for letting me be there for you. I love you.

Welcome Home.

You’re safe here.

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