To my friends, for always listening & freeing me a little more each day

I don’t often speak about being mentally abused, but this is about more than just me. For all those who have suffered in skin or in spirit, no matter what shape your scars take: you are a survivor, I am touched every day by all that you are, and you are never, ever alone.


consonants cause traffic jams

in the rush

for release


their white ridged confines

elbowing aside luckless scowling vowels

& artificially flavored filters

while whispering syllables

hatch an escape plan

over by bitter and sweet

i feel them tumbling around my tongue

an emotional recipe for uncertainty

mixed with the heady brew

of pain/trust/fear


trailing meteor tail memories

the words spill out into the

suddenly frozen air

and i find myself



Fool’s Gold

Haunted, lacking, disturbed,

an atlas unshrugged seeking guidance,

I’m advised to

“Keep the faith.”



In my pocket?

Where its apt to be torn and misused

or wander off merrily with some spare change?


Maybe in my eyes

(apparently they’re the windows to my soul,

complete with coarse eyelash drapes & white welded shutters).

or buried in my hands,

humming along the lines of fate

with palms suddenly sweaty fluttering dervishes.


i think

i’ll keep it

in YOU

(not that i know you at all)

because blind faith in a stranger

is an endangered species,

too often mislabeled as

fools gold.


Maybe faith

is meant to be shared

and not kept at all.


Trust is a currency I know well

I’ve long trafficked in it,

demanding fines and taxes

for any breaches in regulation.

that is not to say

that I understand it

or even embrace it

Like all Coins,

it is edged, expendable

and capable of breaking

the backs of nations

or whispering cracks

into the ears of lovers.

I don’t know if I lost it,

skipping merrily away

lying on a curbside

for some unsuspecting bystander,

or if I ever even had it.

Maybe its time

to go back to the barter system.

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