Tossing and turningand flipping sheets over.Grunting in frustration,as the clock moves forward. Mind is spinningand won't slow down.Future's moving closer,can't turn back now. Time is of the essence,too precious to be wasted.Experiences to be had,and dreams to be tasted. Counting sheep, so bountyhoping on a prayer.Wanting sleep, so peaceful,but to find it, don't know where.
His Room
I met him in the Spring—by accident.He was sweaty that first day, like hehadn’t showered in weeks, though the real culpritwas the scorching heat of the sun that seemed to have no end.Our friendship grew into a tangled web of danger,and trying to navigate his room was harder thana ballerina tip-toeing on a tightrope.I felt... Continue Reading →
Loving a Suicidal Writer
*I wrote this poem after reading an article about James Baldwin and his struggle with suicidal ideation* If I ask you to martyr me within your pages,blank and crisp, like unvarnished potential,don’t let your memory of me fade awaylike forgotten, abandoned childhood dreams.Don’t listen to my mournful woes.Write me beautiful and stellar,glamorous and headstrong.Paint me... Continue Reading →
On the Rare Mornings I Feel Too Much
On the rare mornings I feel too much, my heart slams itself against my trachea and the world nestles hard on my esophagus. It is not unlike a hummingbird flinging itself against a still, sharp, rain-washed window. On the rare mornings I feel too much, my breathing collapses upon itself, repeatedly, like someone squeezing my... Continue Reading →
What Really Happens in a Psych Ward…
A possible scene for my novel about a girl who gets institutionalized 4 days before she graduates college
Musings of a Wanderer 