Weep With Me

Posted: February 1, 2017 in me

Will you weep with me as I mourn myself

As I dry up

And become the thing that is other than my one true given

Will you hold onto me

And love me still

And want me

When I have become valueless

You may say you will

But you do that

Say things

And each word turns breath into the breeze that will blow me away



“Hurt myself again today. And the worst part is there no one else to blame.” -Sia

Cold Side of the Bed

Posted: January 29, 2017 in me

I loved you best when you wanted to fuck me

I wanted you most when you held my hand

I knew you best when you looked me in the eyes

And said my eyebrows looked good

I hated you most when you were lying next to me snoring

While I stared wide eyed at the ceiling

Both hot

And cold

I understood you best when cried while you said you loved me


You were afraid

And now I’m bored

Much too hot

And my heart’s so cold

Hearing and feeling nothing

While you snore peacefully next to me

I’m chaos inside

“By the time you get this message it’s gonna be too late…” -Mariah Carey

Day 15

Posted: January 16, 2017 in me

Not even Noah can’t access the amount of rain needed to wash away the stains of the night. 

Contained in the skies attempt to cleanse my mind, I seek warmth. 

And guarantees. 

And freedom.

Around the world in 16203 days

And it just gets smaller

And more familiar

Without comfort

Only familiarity

Like an angry mother’s slap across the face

It stings

And burns

And makes me wonder when I’ll ever be independent enough

To know

To go

To grow

“You should be used to it by now.” -Telepopmusik

This Could Be Forever Baby

Posted: January 12, 2017 in me

Hypothetically you

Hypothetically me

Sounds pretty pretty

And good in theory

But I’m not imaginary

I’m really really real

Or at least I thought I was

Until recently

Not sure though truthfully

Until I bleedy bleed

And think about what I need

Needy needy

Maybe I’m broken

Hypothetically hopeless

Dark and broody

Sad and moody

Maybe I’m too thin

And forgot how to begin

Or end

Endlessly ending

Always or forever bending

I forget

I think I’m twisted

I think you missed it

Or I did

Maybe it’s us

Maybe it’s you

Maybe I only love what’s new

“This could be forever baby.” – Vince Staples


Posted: January 8, 2017 in me

I have these times of night where I lose my motivation. And my appetite. 

I’m no longer energized with excitement, though still a victim off anticipation. The ever disappointed optimist. That’s probably not how you see me. But I’m often unseen. 

I don’t know if I can be happy anymore. I think I’ve hit that wall. In the waiting room. Covered in dusty couches and breathing in the dust moted air. Stale and whithering. 

Waiting still. And incapable of remembering why I’m even here.

1035 on a Lonely Friday Night

Posted: January 6, 2017 in me

I must admit that I don’t feel like your girl

Or your friend

Or a girl

Or a friend

I feel translucent

And like a ticking clock

Keeping time

For someone else

Not knowing if my time will come

Or if it has already gone


Posted: September 23, 2016 in me

I fear the darkness and the the warmth

Not like a moth to a flame

Like a moth looking upon it’s own dead molted husk

I fear you’ll break me

And leave me to be a dusty remnant of myself

That I’ll be forced to stare at

And never leave

Simply for companionship

So just leave me now

While I still remember what my skin looked like when it was pink

Because I’m too barely unbroken to be broken again

Posted: July 10, 2016 in me

I don’t know how to be vulnerable

At least whatever I think vulnerable means

I used to live feeling small

Now it terrifies me

I want to be big

And bold

And  important

And safe

And I do

That’s why I’m scared


I’d Pick You First

Posted: December 7, 2015 in me

Loyalty-a strong feeling of support or allegiance.

I had a weird day yesterday. I couldn’t tell you why, but that whole adage about hindsight… Then it occurred to me. My life is significantly lacking occurrences of loyalty.

One of my standards to inform others of is my desire and appreciation of meeting new people. But sometimes I think I have to. And that’s ALL that I do. And if that internal push were to be taken away, my interactions would be terminally crippled. If I weren’t at a point I was open to that, my solitude would be significantly more solo. If that were even possible.

Lately I’ve felt this deficiency more than usual. I haven’t had a best friend that I physically interact with regularly in over a decade. I haven’t had a boyfriend in over 3 years. These are 2 easy go to structures of relationships that typically ensure regular interaction and higher degrees of loyalty. To a certain extent I’ve closed myself off to those relationships, but not really. What I HAVE closed the door on is emotionally carrying relationships. I’m done poking and prodding and initiating and stalking. It’s my experience those connections work best in even reciprocated measures and doses. It can’t just be one person running a one man show and the other just passively being there by, essentially, not leaving. Like a lifeless mass of DNA just stuck to you, much like those creepy dead conjoined twins. Or a remora.

Healthy relationships should be actively and regularly chosen. One person shouldn’t have to shoulder that like a host to some non-contributing parasite. I don’t want to be constantly needed. I want to be actively chosen. Regularly. Maybe I’m oblivious, and somebody thinks I’m their best friend. (Dear lord I hope nobody thinks I’m their girlfriend.)  But how present can I be in a relationship if I don’t know it exists? I’ve always had this fear and validated feeling that I made relationships up in my head after I’ve walked away from them. That my hope and loyalty was so strong , I missed the total void of it on the other end. And I just can’t be available for that anymore.

What is odd though, is that I continue to be available at all. Falling into the nothingness and void seems so inviting and warm and predictable and comforting sometimes. Yet here I am. Meeting new people. Hoping something will stick. Hoping to be chosen. But not just chosen, kept.

“Always been too scared and unprepared
To let anybody get too close to me

But when I met you right away I knew
You would never ever ever hurt me

And the road’s still long but you come along
And you hold my hand and you understand

When I look at you I can’t believe it’s true
You’re all I ever dreamed of and you love me
And you love me, and you love me” -Kimya Dawson

Reduce, Reuse, Recycle

Posted: November 22, 2015 in me

It’s been a terrifying thing to meet somebody and start down that road that always has only lead to the nothingness.

“When you saw only one set of footprints, it was then that I carried him.”

I have always been the senior contributor to affection, emotion, and momentum. It’s who I am. The mushmaster of mush county. I am loose with my passion. It doesn’t require fire or a spark. It only needs hot whispered breath on the back of my neck. And that’s very misaligned with who I want to be. So I’ve turned into this person who is paralyzed by my fear of self.

I’m quick to label myself a spazz, a wreck, and utterly and completely overwhelming. But, am I? I’ve been told that there will one day exist somebody who can handle me, who will take the fact that I just AM. It won’t be a flaw or a task. That there will be one that can “be still and know that I am Jenny.” But I also kinda need that to be validated. To hear in some way that I’m heard. It’s absorbed and accepted. If only a week in I could scream “VALIDATE ME.”

It was pointed out to me how negatively we are often impacted by being “gas lighted.” (ugh I hate even referencing some pop culture psychology, but it’s accurate) Picture if you will, a vulnerable girl sharing her feels and thoughts of affection and desire and insecurities only to be called crazy or a stalker. And yet, that’s real life. It’s lead me to believe I’ve spent a majority of my time in relationships that the other person, in fact, couldn’t relate. Or chose to respond with emotional obliteration because they were uncomfortable. But I don’t need to analyze them. There’s no point.

I’m so uncomfortable finding the sweet spot that lies between my true self and the girl who refuses to disregard her life lessons. Not in my heart, nor in my head. Audibly. Physically. How do you act like you care about somebody all nonchalant and shit?! And why should I have to?! I’m not responsible for the reactions for others, but I’d rather not be subjected to a caveman response that I’m nuts for feeling. I hate that I have to dip my toe and constantly mind read to take the temperature of another’s comfort level with my brand of intimacy. That any time I may want to say something pure and true, I have to follow that up with some type of disclaimer that my sanity level is normal, I’m just talking. That I mean a bunch of stuff, but it’s meaningless if you get itchy from it.

Doesn’t anyone else want to feel like that? Verbally adored? Spot checked? You are HERE to me, and we are here TOGETHER. What a strange life this is. I just hope that one day I’ll appreciate all of this, instead of feeling foolish. That my means will find an end. That I can be who I need to be, for me, and that is welcome and healthy for somebody being who is also doing their best to be them.

“Trust me when I say that it’s not supposed to be this hard.”



Posted: November 17, 2015 in me

In that moment, under a bridge, I realized that everything hurt

And was terrifying

And I was tired

The wind whipped up smells of old and dusty things

Things you dare not touch with more than your finger tips

But I grabbed hold and closed my eyes

I didn’t want to hurt anymore

Or be afraid

I wanted to feel the depth of the cold

And every thing up until then stopped mattering

Not a thing

And in the darkness behind my eyelids I decided I was tired of letting go

So I held on

It was that easy.

“And I could see for miles miles miles.”

   I’ve never been excited to be alive and I’ve always feared being sick. Going through the motions and observing my dad get diagnosed with cancer, go through chemo and now surgery I realized something last night. My dad, on any given day, has more will to live than the sum of my entire life. Before I feel asleep it occurred to me that none of that had changed for me.
   I don’t know what it’s like to exist is an sizeable space of I WANT TO LIVE, THIS IS MY PURPOSE, THIS IS MY DRIVE. I’ve had my departure from willing myself to die, but that other part never came. Not even now. If anything, it gave me a glimpse into another worthless horror I have left to suffer through. The going of my parents. My lack doesn’t spill onto others, I’d like them to live forever. I just never felt that for myself.
  I remember this day I was all excited to go somewhere. I went to bed to make sure I got up on time, planned the next day’s moments in my head, got dressed, and waited for the bus. And I waited. And waited. And waited. And it never came because that bus didn’t run on weekends and it was a Saturday. And so I was smashed with  disappointment. It took me a long time to even walk away from the bus stop because I couldn’t accept the fact it wasn’t coming, and neither was my magical day. That’s where I’ve existed. In that small box of feelings. For as long as I can recall. Just standing there. No bus. No magical day. And taking entirely too long to walk away.
   Not everything has a lesson. Most things don’t. And the journey isn’t always that great. Not for me. Sometimes you just realize who you are. And what you want. And that things just are. And they’re exactly how you figured them to be. Long ago. Frustrating. Slow. Or just never ever happening at all. I’m a little confused and maybe disappointed I’m not one of those people who can use this experience as a catalyst for some robust psychic change that sets my heart free. But it hasn’t. I can’t even force it. I’ve tried.
  I’m still just here waiting stubbornly for that bus to get me the fuck out of here.


Posted: August 31, 2014 in me

He is my next lifetime’s love
The one I would never put clothes on for
The one who would find me
Lost in the melody of his world
I’d memorize the smell of his collar bone, when he woke up in the morning
The length of his eyelashes
And the inevitable calluses on his thumb
Everywhere he took me would be my favorite place
And when I thought things couldn’t get more wonderful
We’d kiss goodbye before we could destroy it
If he read this
He wouldn’t hesitate
To pass it by
So I’ll read it to him
Next lifetime

A few years ago I decided to decide to have relationships. Starting with my family. I would choose it. I’d stop feeling stuck. I had to. I needed them. But this time it would be an exchange. Not just my taking. And things have healed.

But now it’s not that easy. All of the strings. The semantics. The proximity. Absence makes the mind grow peaceful. And this is the antithesis of that. But I’ve also chosen to stop blaming things that are not me. All I can do is me. And sometimes that means enduring. Sometimes that means walking away. I shall endure…this.

Ah…But the “exchange.” Well, I’ve gotten my shit together. Like for reals. Without any type of denial or lying to myself and anyone else I feel I’d need to impress. Which is no longer anyone…fyi…btw. I got myself out of some deep abysmal unsunshiney holes. I did school, got licensed, avoided coupling up for an escape route, took care of some finances and some health stuff. I’m 40 and this is the most freedom I’ve ever had in my life. Sad but true. And I.AM.DONE. The exchange was enlightening in my ability to exercise boundaries, for sure. But it drained me of my ability to pursue and nurture any outside relationships. I’ve never experienced things being copacetic with my family AND a boyfriend AND my job AND my friends AND me. And my life plan. Ever. And now it seems I have that opportunity. Minus many friends and a boyfriend. And a big chunk of me…

I’m…gasping…I’m…flailing…But like in a tight knit ball. I don’t have fun. I don’t do anything other than what I’m supposed to do. And it’s my fault. I’m shaky. I’m unsure how to do that junk. And while it’s not some monumental thing for others for me to ask somebody “hey what are you doing?” or “do you want to do this?” For me it’s huge. And one no or one neglected reply sends me back into the drudge. Left right left right no eye contact please. I used to be a fool. But I was bold. And confident. And sexy. And popular. An addition. And now I’m…THIS. In a constant state of “What is the point?” And for a time, I needed that. To be safe. But in the middle, I was brave. For a little while. And now I’m…THIS. THIs. THis. This. this. (this) and i don’t know what this is

My One True Love

Posted: August 7, 2014 in me

What are you grateful for? For me, my gratitude shifts from moment to moment, inhale to exhale. Family, love, friends, safety. The one thing that has always remained is my gratitude for music. Music is the one place I can go that everyone is glad to see me. It knows my secrets. It doesn’t care what I’m wearing. Or if I showered. Or if I have been crying or laughing. It isn’t judging to see if I’m punk enough, black enough, educated enough, artistic enough, lonely enough, gangster enough, or experienced in the struggle. I love music and music loves me back. No matter what. Even and especially when it breaks my heart. Music keeps me safe and tears me apart and restructures me. Music makes me whole and is my soul. I spend most of my day there. I don’t need a plus one. And rarely have one. It’s the only place my honest. It’s the only place I don’t wonder if I’m beautiful. Music is temporal. Music is abstract. Yet I see it. I taste it. I bleed it. I know it’s texture by heart. I am clothed in it. Consumed by it. And it never ever ever spits me out.