a hate as hungry as this
consumes me whole

it keeps feeding on what remains
of the empty void you carved out
in my chest with the blade of betrayal

but, I knew what to do
to keep my lungs moving
after your departure

and ever since, I've hated you
as strong as I ever loved you...

for that is the only emotion
that allows me to live
(for my children)

in your stead

and so, my darling,
you have to know that...

I FCKN HATE YOU!

Some days my bones feel fractured,
Even where all the bells resonate;
The ravenous bite that indulged
Too deeply – polished by its outlines.

Having faced the forces of nature;
Maybe the element of surprise,
Is not being so surprised at all,
At the relentless cycle of challenges
That perpetually emerge.

Ultimately, we are all merely
Trying to survive.

I know how to carry pain
not like a burden,
but like a second skin.
I've walked through fire in silence,
kissed betrayal on the cheek
and called it by name.

I know bad words.
Not just the ones they speak,
but the ones they plant
in the soil of a soft heart
and leave to grow wild.

I've tasted different traits
bitterness sweetened by charm,
gentleness sharpened to a blade.
I've danced with shadows in daylight
and called it love.

But this one...
this is new.

This ache that lives in my ribs,
this grief that kicks from inside,
this quiet war I fight
while smiling, while feeding,
while staying alive.

Excuse me,
but I’ve never been pregnant
with someone else's cruelty before.
Excuse me
if I need space
to untangle this web
before I decide which thread to cut.

I will lie here,
wrapped in blankets and restraint,
saying “I’m fine”
while every door in this house
begs to be torn from its hinges.

I want to set this silence on fire.
I want to burn this version of me
and walk barefoot through the ash
until I meet the woman
waiting on the other side
the one who chose herself.

I’ve known pain.
But this one is new.
And still
I will survive.
Because I have to.
Because I always do.

There is a condition
Adjacent to fear
But beyond its boundary

A place so close
That you
May drown in the awareness
Of survival

A point in time
Where you
Await the Caiman to close
Their eyes

Come sit with me
beneath the moon,
when you feel lost
and hopeless—
like there is no light.

She’s learned how to shine
through all-consuming dark.
Inky, unforgiving.
No light of her own,
yet she gives enough
to make the shadows
yield in their mission.

Talk to the moon with me,
while the wind caresses your face.
Call the moon by her name.
Ask her about balance—
the never-ending dance:
how much to give,
how much to keep.

She never apologizes
for waxing,
for waning,
or even disappearing
completely from the night sky.

Yet still, the tides rise,
and the wolves
never stop howling.
Never questioning her power
In her absence.

Let the wind carry your words
Whisper her name,
Luna.
Then ask her questions with me.
No one else is more likely
to hold answers for hearts like ours.
She’s fought more battles than we can count,
yet look at her tonight—
scarred,
and utterly stunning.

And perhaps,
if you can find the silence
on just the right kind of night—
where her scars glow the brightest
And the wind is humming soft through the trees—
the moon and the breeze
might conspire,
and bring you something
your heart desires.

The lessons of the moon,
carried in whispers on the wind:
how to stay soft,
and just a little magical,
in this savage,
yet ordinary life.

(we  
              cradle—limbless—hungerly in violet  
           half-snow)
    barnacled to a ribcage of someone’s leftover   //god–  
my brother’s eyes        were spoonfuls of thistle  
    and so  
         he gave them

                          (    to mother  
               in a bell jar  
                         packed with apples that never rot)  
          

i said—dear—"shall we rot together?"  
he said  
               no  
but held my tail tighter than  
        the census did the mute  

            when they told us  
the white-ones  
       could out-breed  
       guilt  
       (our teeth were ripped  
         not sharpened)

       [oh darling look!] the moon  
ate itself out of order,  
  its halves spitting  
  bloodless milk on  
     sterilized clover  

—           the doctors wore hands like corkscrews  
               & unbirthed  
             any child that could  
            dream backwards—

       (i remembered)  
             chewing on a pipe-cleaner name  
        while a man with a cage of bees  
                instead of a face  
                        taught me the word for  
             acceptable.  

——

       there are songs that only come  
         when your tail’s caught  
in a trap meant for  
        your cousin’s ghost  
            (he cried into me  
               like a buckshot lullaby)  

and so i  
      curl.  
    (last ***** first).  
             hide my eyes  
                  in the cracks between

     <<he loved me with a scalpel made of lightning>>  
     <<i loved him with the parts they said to  
                            unsee>>  

and (       hush hush now       )  
              the roots are crawling into me—  
                       gentle, dumb  
                                 unchosen—

i  
       am  
           not  
              the mistake  
                       i was taught to  
                            worship.

i don't have
the time

(don't have
the time)

for this
internal
fight.

i say i've
got hope

but i let
it take over
me tonight.

what a tragic
mess,

a cacophony
of internal
sounds

spinning from a
broken record

filled to the
brim with
regrets.

if this isn't
a test,

my strength is
enduring,

and i will
make the best
of this.

i said i was
lost,

but my soul is
unwavering

and
because of you
by my side,

life is a little
easier

to manage
and survive

and that's
enough for
now.

Talented young poets are in short supply,
So what shame it is to see a talent die.
I see the sparkle fade,
Disenchanted by doubt.
Please keep writing,
We are in need.