Abusive Cycle



From a farm town they grew.
Daddy was a gambler, Drinker,
Momma was mentally ill.
She smoked on the porch and counted the clouds.
Wishing to get away.
Daddy would stumble home mad after losing all his money.
The children would scatter,
Faster than their attacker.
One of them would grow up to be an almost track star.
The only tracks he does now are running up his arms.
Born into poverty self abuse is the only way to be.
Some may get out of it like his sister.
Who found a light at the bottom of a bottle.
But little Ricky didn’t make it past twenty.
He always had good aim, who knew he would use it towards his head in blow away his thoughts?
Down in the ground he rots.
His mother soon to be.
Poor baby she wailes, down into the grave she dives.
What a tragedy this is.
Maybe the family down the street will have a better story to end with.

The Scare

It wasn’t attended to be like this.
Full of Mary Jane in my lungs and the taste of alcohol on the lips.
Fuck it came to mind.
The lack of apathy could not be resisted.
Into a strangers bed I go.
Something I’ve never done before.
But I was depressed and they got lucky.
I wanted to feel something.
Something that was not permanent.
Something that had no strings attached.
Didn’t even know his middle name.
Does that really even matter?
The strokes continued the condom broke.
Strings were attached.
Plan B One step was my savior that night.
I have never thought of abortions to be an option in my life.
That night it was all I could think of.
Wouldn’t my grandmother be proud?
I didn’t think I could feel lower than what I did starting out that day.
He got pleasure and I felt as a sex object.
It was my fault though, I wanted to feel different.
The insonmia of my delma cries out at night.
The period was late. Lasted three days when it arrived.
Still scared that I could be pregnant. The thing that scares me the most is the act I did to feel different.
I self destruct myself on many occasions.
I used the guy, but he didn’t mind.
I avoid his texts as we both said we didn’t want a relationship.
Well, mostly me.
He is just a reminder of how I used a human to feel pleasure.
I can’t handle it as much as I can’t handle myself.
I just needed to get this story off my chest.
To show my mind of the sympathy I feel.

Mirror Mirror On the Wall


Mirror mirror on the wall please tell me that I have it all.

Mirror mirror on the wall help me look like a doll.

Mirror mirror on the wall tell me that he doesn’t hit me at all.

Mirror mirror on the wall what just happened I cannot recall?

Mirror mirror on the wall he loves me it’s just the alcohol.

Mirror mirror on the wall he doesn’t love I am  a neanderthal.

Mirror mirror on the wall I must leave by nightfall.

Mirror mirror on the wall if people ask I just had a fall.

Mirror mirror on the wall hurry and call the cops before it’s my last fall.

Mirror mirror on the wall the person looking back has no power at all.

An Angry Rant


I did it again.

I dropped a cup of water.

I looked into the glass, and saw a morbid outer figure of me.

Confessing to yet another reader.

Hiding behind these words.

Wanting someone to know the real me.

That is why my words are



Fucked up

Just like the writer who wrote them.

That can also hide behind a name.

Names do not really matter.

One day I am a Jane.

The next a Catherine.

It doesn’t matter until your headstone is marked with a permanent fixture.

With some stupid fucking quote you would probably hate.

And if your so called spirt or ghost is here.

You would spend all eternity with the utter most resentmeant towards the carving on the headstone.

“Earth has one gentle soul less, Heaven has one special angel more.”

I’m pretty sure that is the oppsiote of who I was. Common curidisy my ass.

Why is there more whispers about new friends that you didn’t know you had until after death?

Why is it only in death your love ones began to actually fucking care about you?

That is literally the biggest joke I have ever heard.

When I die and if some other sense of me lives on in a different realm. And if I can hear these whispers. Oh trust me I am going to try to haunt a bitch.