Relationships have become a matter of deciding how much I want to hurt. I’m not deciding who to be with based on the long term or envisioning doves and bells. Instead I think how long do I stay? how much do I let myself feel How many pieces of my heart am I willing to… Continue reading mashup
Three years old Daddy sitting on the driveway tightening the bolts on my tricycle to make sure the wheels don’t slip and bend and wobble away. Daddy, trying to make sure my world was stable safe as he could. I ran by, wrapped my string-bean arms round his neck and left a wet sticky kiss… Continue reading Father’s Day
Workaholic. School nerd. Anti-social. Unfriendly. Boring. Descriptors, all, that have been applied to me. Closed off. Cold. Guarded. Bitch. When life is unstable when you never know what’s next who might leave who might come back When the people that stay are the ones that hurt you Isolation is the safer choice. Closed off, shut… Continue reading Stone by stone
I see her in shadow and firelight in shadow and clublight in shadow and smoke She’s a dream My Jean Grey Phoenix when she’s passion and she’s always passion. She’s Rhiannon and I’d be her Gypsy as we listen to Stevie and laugh or cry through chaos. She says she’d be the ground for my… Continue reading Untitled
I’m a doctor, now, you know. I haven’t yet grown weary of saying those words. I grin and giggle when the syllables slip from tongue to my ears. “Hi, Dr. Alger,” a friend will say and I duck my head and blush as if I’m thirteen and the boy I liked said hi to me.… Continue reading I’m a doctor, now
wild tongues cannot be tamed, they can only be cut out. – Gloria Anzaldúa Grad school meant learning the art of biting my tongue shaping my mouth correctly so only the right words exited lips. Grad school meant descending into shame when the right books hadn’t been read and apologizing for my unsophisticated taste. Grad… Continue reading Grad School
I’m trying to name this feeling that’s been lodged between my lungs pressing, constricting my breath with each beat of my heart. This feeling hard, heavy, tangible object crystalline weight I could slip my fingers between folds of skin and rip it out hold in my palm look at it and examine it analyze its… Continue reading grief
