Almost forgot to post a story tonight! Imagine that: one day into the streak and I fuck it up. Not this time, though!

This story, again, comes from class. Here, we were given a photocopied page of a weird book about songs people used to sing while working around the house. The first section of this story is an exact quote. The next two build off it. 


“I will sweep the floor,

Make it very clean;

Sweep behind the door

Till not a speck is seen.”


No one told me

That being a mother

Would involve turning my child

Into a slave, or singing stupid

Songs from from a stupid book,

But then again,

At least the floor is clean.


She said her mother sang these songs

While they used to clean

The dirty floors. “It was my only lasting

Memory of her,”

She said.

Where do they come up with this?

I’d rather cry alone upstairs,

Or sleep on the filthy floor,

Than sing another stupid line. 


I wrote this poem for one of my best friends. I loved writing this as much as I loved him. I’m sure you know we all miss you!


It took the entire day to convince him
to take me on a walk. I wanted to explore
the neighborhood and
what goes on beyond the
backyard and houses
to the left and right. I want to
see the trees, the tall oaks
in the preserve, their acorns
always hurt my little feet
when I walk along the rooted paths.
We settled for a quick walk—
to see my friend Eddie who’s always looking for me.
The trip to his house is nice but I always get
Distracted by the cars and trucks their horns
are always too loud they hurt
my ears and I can’t think I want to run
but I’m always being held back. I’m told
the street isn’t safe to cross and I can’t
just run wherever I want,
but it’s instinct.
My daddy keeps me close by
while we walk down
the sidewalks, mindful of
the broken glass and dirty objects
with the funny smells. I run
around the poles to see how long it takes
him to catch me.
He has such long legs compared to mine.
I wonder what it’s like to be a giant,
to have to bend down
low to show me love, a pat on the back,
and a cookie, with a nice bowl of ice water,
and a nap until dinner time of course.
The clouds in the sky start to grey and I
can feel and smell and even taste the
trouble in the sky. I pull back towards
home as fast and as hard as I can.
Daddy knows I’ve had enough.
My mind starts racing and my little legs
Can’t keep up. I stop, scared,
in the middle of the street.
A big brown truck with the mailman I hate,
Who’s always at our house, who’s always
ignoring me when he leaves the boxes
I love to rip up, comes
roaring down the road and I want to bark
at him and make him stop. If he gets out
I’ll rip him to shreds.
I’ll tear that brown uniform apart. He’s,
he’s—lucky to be in that big brown truck.
The vibrations rattle all my organs and I can’t think I
have to stop and rest.
Otherwise I won’t know where I am.
Daddy picks me up and takes me home,
when we get back, that familiar car
in the driveway tells me
mommy’s home so I run and bark and grab my toys,
my mouth is full but as soon as I see her
she says “Hi, baby!” and it’s
all okay again.


Woah, actually posting on here. Summer’s still insane, but my classes are finally over. I’m taking all writing classes in the fall so I have a feeling that I’ll actually be posting very frequently on here. Class starts the 29th so keep an eye out! 

I wrote this long, long poem a little while ago and read it at an open mic! I’ve never written anything like this before so I was nervous going up, but I read it well and received a nice applause and an awkward compliment while taking a piss afterwards. The way this copied and pasted from word is not how I wrote it. The lines themselves are long and Whitman-esque. But I like how it looks broken up. I don’t think it will change the meaning behind the poem. I’d fix it myself but I’m writing this on my phone and the app is too confusing to figure out.  Enough of me, enjoy.


I wake up hung over, brain a mess, the smell of booze, slept through the third snooze, the world’s a mess, head’s pounding, never endingIt’s a cool day, a cloudy summer morning, rain last night, my eyes hang low in their sockets, another rain soon to come, another storm, another drink, another this and another that

The tv’s on and distracted by distracted people reporting on distractions, interpreting their distractions as right, even though they’re all wrong, everyone’s wrong, everything’s wrong,

everything’s wrong.

The tv’s on and people yell back and forth telling each other that everything’s wrong and nothing’s wrong, and we need change and things need to stay the same

The tv’s on and people try to please everyone but the public personifies the outrage and hatred drowning out the peace, blaming those that simply want to live, but what choice do they have?

As the day goes on, as the days go on, the same thing over and over and over and over and over and over and over. Another shooting, another cop dead, another life lost over a tail light, over a wallet, over a pack of cigars—another life lost.

Lost in the heat of the summer out in Dallas a small group of armed men, well aware of their (not) god-given right to own killing machines use them back and everyone’s shocked and no one’s shocked because everyone’s sure the world as we know it is coming to an end.

Sirens blare and guns are drawn and cops from all directions crowd the streets and the crowds protesting in the streets run for their lives while the brave run towards the trouble knowing they’re the targets, that the table’s turned

But an eye for an eye makes the world go blind, it’s easy to say online that what’s being done isn’t right and anything and everything should be done to put an end to the violence

But violence is what this country wants, emotions are what we run on, money—behind everything—the ultimate goal

The past generations in charge of creating chaos between the classes can’t come together for one second to choose the path for our country’s fate

Promoting hate to fill their wallets, two candidates no one wants have been chosen by no name delegates to represent beliefs forced upon us, tricking us into thinking our voice matters, our vote matters, our opinions matter

Black Lives Matter and Blue Lives Matter leaves us black and blue, busting skulls and breaking bones as bullets pierce both side’s flesh

And so many people think choosing a side is the only way to solve the problem, but all it does is make it worse

You see on social media, mainstream media, everyone has an opinion, and everyone thinks they’re entitled to share it, everyone thinks everyone wants to hear what they say, but every day there’s another issue that requires another stance and another tweet and another facebook post and another interview and another article and another protest and another this and another that, another mass shooting takes place, another innocent life lost, another argument, another arrest, there’s no rest to the rage building between us

Only when the tv’s off, and the computer’s shut down, can you finally drown the noise in peace.

Did you hear about—no. What’s your take on—no. Do you think he—no.

Tired of the useless, hate-filled excuses to keep hating each other, distracting us all from all the good in our lives, catering to those that can’t keep up with the changing times of acceptance of one another

No longer does it matter that you’re gay, straight, a muslim, a jew, a Christian, a man, a woman, all of the above, none of the above, because up above, who cares whether he’s watching or not, if he’s there or not, because you’ll never know, he even says so

So what should you do? Take a break, look back and reflect, treat others the way you want to be treated, think of every cliché you’ve ever seen on facebook and twitter and tumblr and apply the truths behind them

Accept the fact that you don’t know everything and you’ll never know everything,

not in Chicago, not in Cleveland, not in Baltimore, not in Florida, not in California, not in Texas, not in New Orleans, not even in New York

You can’t be anything and everything all at once, despite what mommy and daddy tell you as they hand over the keys to your brand new BMW

Anyone in a five bedroom beach house with five cars in the driveway who never had to work, who were fed with the silver spoon, who didn’t earn everything the hard and honest way, who were never laid off, who never had to worry about how they’ll pay their loans and bills, will never understand what it’s like knowing it can all be taken away in the blink of an eye, the slap of handcuffs, the pull of a trigger,

If you’ve only been to Times Square, if you’ve never been on the subway, if you can’t decide between bottomless mimosas or bottomless bloody mary’s, if you’ve ever said to yourself, “We need to make America great again,”

You’re a part of the problem, you’re missing out on the endless opportunities this beautiful country contains within our wall-less borders,

Each and every individual has something to teach us if we’re ready and willing to hear them out, so don’t drown it out, draw it in, and don’t become pray to the politicians who promote their personal agendas over the people’s

Be the change you want to see, unless you believe the cost is another man’s or woman’s peace of mind, come to peace with yourself before you force yourself down someone else’s throat

The last thing I need is you screaming at me when my head feels like it’s splitting in two,

so let me just close my eyes.

One Moment

A little girly, but I’ve been coming up with a lot of nice lines to work with lately. My original intent was to somehow put them into a story, but I think they fit better like this. You be the judge. Enjoy.

One Moment

One moment, a smile, is all I need
to run away with you for a lifetime.
As the sun hangs on by a thread in the sky
hitting the snow covered evergreens,
as the setting sun reflects on the pond,
as deer poke their heads through the tall, dead grasses,
and coyotes and owls howl in the distance;
as the purple, industrial night sky sits
on top of the orange street lights,
a commercialized sunset,
a lonely star emerges next to the moon.
As I look out my window, and look back at you,
and the different shades of blue in the ocean,
seals playing in the freezing water, seagulls
scavenging the shores and piers for food,
I float through the thoughts in my mind:
your hand in mine, and a smile
that every girl hopes to smile, laughing
a laugh that can only come from the one she loves.

One Is All It Takes

I’m just free writing here. It started out as a poem, but I couldn’t stick with the form. Maybe that’s a metaphor for something. Maybe I’m just playing around with the title. Either way, I’ve had so much on my mind, and I’ve wanted nothing more than to be able to free myself from it all. I’m starting to believe that that’s impossible, so I’m going to do the only thing I can do which is to accept the fact that I made mistakes and I’ll continue to make them, but I won’t let them define who I am as a person. I know I can be better, and I want to be better. With that mentality, I’ll only end up better…I hope.

One Is All It Takes

One look is all it takes to take my breath away.
One too many mistakes to make me wish you’d stay.
One too many memories, good and bad, to fill me with regret.
One awkward smile is enough to never forget that
One of anything is all it takes to lose what I’ve always longed for.
One apology too many is all it takes to never be forgiven.
One day, I hope, is all it takes to find the one–
and I hope the one is you.

Last Time

I’m not sure how I feel about how repetitive this is. At first I was just intending on free writing, but it turned into another poem. I decided yesterday I’m going to take a break from all this–not writing, but the inspiration behind these poems and stories–and focus on making myself happy. We’ll see how long that lasts. Enjoy this poem. I plan to focus on prose as grad school slowly sneaks up on me.

Last Time

Her smile was enough to effortlessly hold the universe together.

Her hair blowing in the wind, light brown, almost blonde,

could knock him to his knees.

Her hands were electric, shocking him every time they touched.

Her body was synonymous with marble.

Her eyes, a gateway to her soul–and mine.

Red lips like wine, an artist’s design.

Her disappointment, arms crossed, tilted head,

dead eyes, reminds you of your mother’s when you failed a test.

Your disappointment in losing her,

like your favorite toy secretly sold at a garage sale,

makes you doubt yourself and everything you once knew.

You thought you knew what’s best, how she’s just like the rest,

but as she left, your heart bursts from your chest.

You scream come back! and her back stays turned,

your last look before she walks off into someone else’s arms.

Walden Poetry

I’m going to do something very different. A while ago, I saw someone was picking words from each line every page of Infinite Jest and turning them into poems. I’m going to try to do the same, but with Walden. I’ll try it with one page to start and see how it goes. Try it with your favorite book!

Walden Poetry – Page 66

I went to the woods because
I wished to live deliberately,
and see if I could not learn what it had to teach.
I did not wish to live what was not life.
I wanted to live deep
and suck out the marrow of life.

Still we live meanly, like ants,
like pygmies we fight with cranes.
Error upon error,
clout upon clout,
Our life is frittered away by detail.
Simplicity, simplicity, simplicity!
Let your affairs be as two or three,
not a hundred or a thousand.

Simplify, simplify.