Because I don’t know what to do anymore.


I was crying on the toilet, bare of any article apart from my skin which trickled with sweat and despair. Tears kept sloping on my cheeks as I gripped my hair at the ends and tried pulling my head apart. I stifled my screams for fear my brother would hear me.
Breath ragged.
Heart cracked.
The slow and accepting pace of the water from the faucet fills the pail with light and escape. Dragging the pail in front of me, I said a solemn goodbye and kissed the water neck-deep—

Staring Contest

A pair of green eyes looked pointedly at me.

Sitting comfortably on my window ledge in a red-knitted sweater and sweat pants, my hair in a messy bun and bowl of oatmeal in hand, I asked the expecting little monster “What?” raising a brow in hopes to intimidate him.

He didn’t speak.

He just kept staring at me while he sat on his snow-kissed bum. His whiskers twitched a bit as his tail propped up and swayed like a bobbly head on the dashboard of a car. Green eyes still regarded me with anticipation.

My tongue rolled to the side of my mouth, bulging from the outside, and matching his stare defiantly, I put the bowl down and shifted my seat. Arms between my legs and hands gripping the ledge, I narrowed my eyes and exacted my gaze on his.

He just sat there and gazed right back, tail – now – curling and unfolding and still maintaining an eerie sort of calm. I could feel pinpricks climbing up my spine. Determined not to show any weakness, I folded my arms on my chest and put on my best bitch face – which consisted of a soft, virgin duckface and currently narrowed eyes.

Nothing happened.

My butt was getting itchy from sitting on the ledge, I took a sideway glance at my bowl of unfinished oatmeal, annoyance crawling up. Groaning, my hands flew up in the air “Fine!” I conceded, jumped down and stomped off to the kitchen.

Upon my return, his eyes had shifted, still looking at me but there was a twinkle that wasn’t there before. I could swear he was smirking at me. Putting his bowl in front of him, he stood up and did an infinity between my legs, purring and mewling and then dug into his breakfast.





When I wake up and look at my room,
When I take a shower and stare in the mirror,
When I walk the streets and pass buildings,
When I get to work and not get anything done,
When I take my coffee and my eyes are all droopy,
When I get off and make my way home,
When I sit on the toilet and do my business,
When I stare at the stars and just be thinking,
When I close my eyes and try to dream,
When I lay in bed and start to weep

It’s you, It’s you, It’s you, It’s you,
It’s you, It’s you, It’s you,
It’s you, It’s you,
It’s YOU.


It was fleeting…

A feather at the top of my head – or was it my forehead? – that made my protests die down with the scurrying crowd of retirement.

Calming –

as the waves assault the wall of the concrete boulevard,

It wasn’t the usual fire dance, or dreamlike snippets, or silly CPRs

– Intoxicating,

yet morphed into a moment of pure


At the moment

The strong parched-breeze cast by the sea slaps my face as little waves crackle on the shore of this low tide summer night. I sit by the boulevard, alone… lost in an awry of thoughts and feelings that are slipping imagined claustrophobia into my system like a lazy Monday morning. Overwhelming the senses, it plays tricks on emotions morphing me into a rabid bipolar polar bear hibernating in the season of longer days.

The Hookee and the Hooker


I laundered your clothes,
Cooked you a meal, left you a note, I suppose
I did the dishes, and dusted the house
And – as you wanted – stayed silent as a mouse.

You come home, I seize you for a kiss
hands wrap around me, oh, how I missed this.
I warm your bed, and say I love you. And how
fitting you say you do too, but you always end it with Right Now



Every day I get out of bed,
And you lay there buck-naked…
Something tingles down-under. I read your note,
crumple it, trash it and throw up when you dote

I go to work, not to work
but to see someone else give me a twerk.
And returning to my humble abode, I get another high
By pretending to love you and yank scissors up the sky.