“Chains cut from the inside,
Wings untucked, spread wide
The weightlessness of freedom,
A glorious, soaring ride.”



Demons of the Dark

…my tongue writhed for a few seconds then suddenly became heavy. My body, strained from resistance, went limp in defeat. I had lost that battle, and I knew Death had overcome me once again.

Dear Diary,

I have demons. They hunt me during the day, but I meditate, and laugh, and work out, and eat saltine crackers to keep ’em at bay. But they are always lurking, especially at night when all is quiet and distractions are at a minimum. They are not the crackle-faced, head-twisting, Exorcist demons I used to think they were, waiting for me when I turned off the lights at night, hiding under the bed. Rather, they are in me. They go by common names, like Fear, and Anger, and Hate. And Insecurity.

These demons hide in the darkest corners of my mind, so well that I believe I have conquered them, snuffed them out for good. And I relax a little, breeze through life where everything is all good. And then… my misery is their happy home and they don’t want to lose it. When the light gets too bright, it scares them out of hiding. They feel threatened, and come stronger and harder than ever before. They need to hold on to their familiar.

It happened just the other night – ’twas Insecurity, they said.  He bucked up like a cornered animal, and his defense game is strong. Slowly at first, creeping. All it took was a sliver of a shadow – the light was dim – and he latched on like a leech, sucking away what was good and injecting poison seeds that sprout just enough for him to thrive. He mustered up the remnants of vileness still festering in the lowest corners of my subconscious, powered me up to inflict pain at the crack of his whip. It was as if I were out of my body, watching mySelf plunge the dagger, silently pleading with her not to do it. But Self was weak, and she caved.  I was ashamed at the words she hissed, seemingly with such will, and I was helpless to stop her. A cloud of dis-ease bellowed from my own throat, filling the room with hurt and anger like a thick smoke. Afterwards, my tongue writhed for a few seconds then suddenly became heavy. My body, strained from resistance, went limp in defeat. I had lost that battle, and I knew Death had overcome me once again.

I suffered greatly. I am in rehab now, basking in the brightest rays of sun, bridling my tongue, seeking and speaking only Life, regaining my strength, preparing for the next fight, with whichever demon of the darkness sneak attacks next. I was caught off guard because I didn’t know that this one was not gone, simply hiding. I don’t know if he is gone for sure now, but I do know that he will not sucker punch me again. I know where the hiding places are now, and I gotta keep the lamp pointed in those corners. Pray for me.



Death and life are in the power of the tongue: and they that love it shall eat the fruit thereof. – Proverbs 18:21

Death has plagued me,

And I thought I had Life this whole time,

But really, Death had polluted my heart and poisoned my mind,

Death poured vile from my tongue and placed the crooked in my spine…

Life betrayed me (or me, it?), and Death made me,

A bitter pool of resentment, a seething serpentine,

Wallowing in mud like unbothered swine,

Alive but not living, seeing yet blind…

Life escaped me (or me, it?) and Death played me,

But now, for the last time,

Death pass through my lips in one final line,

The words on this page be the promise that binds…

Death fade me,

My God, Life save me.




i am an ALIEN.

Where I come from, fellow Aliens know that evolution occurs everyday, and that you are not the same person you were yesterday…

Dear Diary,

i am an ALIEN.

I didn’t always realize this, but more and more here lately, I am certain that I’m from Inner Space somewhere, and this outcast soul longs to be back amongst its  kind. The natural law that governs its existence doesn’t seem to be the same as those belonging to the earthlings I have come into contact with over the years. I mean, in the Space I’m from, being in the presence of someone bursting at the seams with joy over some achievement, or reaching some milestone in life, or pursuing some dream, or whatever it is that plasters a grin across their face, is contagious, and that same joy covers and fills those around it, too. What I notice happens here, in this place, is that the larger that grin grows, the wider it spreads, the more upside down smiles appear. Like clouds trying hard to cast out any hint of a ray of light the Sun wants so desperately to shine. Or they simply avoid acknowledging your blessing at all. It’s like, those particular earthlings think if they just unleash their own misery it will certainly and instantly snuff out the tiniest sparks of joy. It’s like, those earthlings think, “if I don’t mention it, if I don’t say anything about it, it isn’t real, it didn’t happen, and their joy is just as nonexistent as mine.” Or they will spew the most funked-up, stankinest energy and words in your Space, wasting their own valuable resources to – excuse my German – shit on your magic.

Where I come from, there are no masks. What you see is what you get. Fellow Aliens do not waste precious time pretending, for years upon years upon years, hiding behind false pretenses claiming to be a, what do they call it, “friend” or “bestie” or “sister” but really secretly despising and praying for her demise for stupid, ignorant reasons. Like the fact that her skin is a different shade of brown, not understanding the levels and depths of its own kind of pain, keeping her close, not because she loves her, but so she can personally witness and be entertained by the pitfalls Life has a way of throwing at everybody anyway. Or because they have some imaginary perception of your life – or a distorted one of their own. They come to your defense, not laugh at you, make it a joke, when you share an experience that was hurtful and demeaning.

Where I come from, fellow Aliens know that evolution occurs everyday, and that you are not the same person you were yesterday, let alone 15 years ago. They recognize that once upon a time you were this, and now you are THIS. They do not even attempt to hold you to the same standards – they understand that there are no standards. They don’t snicker at your audacity to be you when you invite them into your private Space so you can all be in each other’s presence during times of grief. They don’t feel some type of way knowing damned well they make no effort to invite you into their lives, but expect you to lay out the red carpet in yours.

Where I come from, fellow Aliens are consciously aware of the permanent mirror that follows each person, and the people in that person’s life simply reflect what is given to them. Give bullcrap, that same bullcrap is reflected back on you. We are mirrors of what we see, but I will not absorb the fuckery.

I have to mention that earthlings do get down to some good music. Jay Z is a great supplier of this wonderful stuff. In particular, as I continue through Inner Space with a part of a foot in this realm, and as I burn another piece of sandalwood, and pour another glass of Corbieres red, his words reverberate through my spirit:  “Go to hell, this is God engineering.” That’s how I feel about those who snub me for being me, or who will snub me as I continue to shed the weight of others’ ideas of who I should be and become that which I am.  I accept that this Alien is made of some things that no one – other than myself, and the One who created me – can or will ever understand. I am comfortable with the fact that i am an ALIEN.



photo credit: @azzustudios

Growing Up Ugly

“I’ve learned that the important thing is acceptance. Accepting who I am for who I am, in every moment, whatever that moment means. “

Dear Diary,

It ain’t easy being ugly. Especially when it’s my own mind telling me so.

As a young girl, unconsciously drifting through my days on this plane, I wasted a lot of time questioning God on why He made me this way, so unworthy and invaluable???

Don’t you have anything better to do with your time? What’s the purpose of creating a whole person just to make her suffer? I used to wonder.

All I wanted was to be ‘good enough.’ I wanted to be  beautiful, like all the other girls around me. I wanted to fit in. I wanted to be wanted. But instead, during those formative years of my life, I was at the bottom of the barrel, wallowing in ugliness and unworthiness. I was either never picked, or picked last. The boys called me names  like “Bucky O’Hare”  and “Crypt Keeper,” and, even “Cuban Cockroach.” My skinny, unshapely frame was the never-ending joke of all time, the bane of my existence. Once, in middle school, on the bus going on a field trip, a classmates (and class clown) shouted out “How you in da eighth grade still wearin’ a trainin’ bra?!!!” Of course everybody thought it was the most hilarious thing ever – especially (and hurtfully) a best friend who knew my struggles. She laughed so hard I thought the seat we shared would come loose from the floor. Boy, talk about pain and humiliation! I don’t remember anything else about that trip, not even where were going.

By the time I got to college, my grotesqueness was so ingrained in my Soul that I didn’t realize it wasn’t quite happening the way my mind made me think. I was the object of many pursuits, but was blind to it all. I was nothing more than the undesirable skinny girl with big teeth and too much gum. People wondered why I never smiled, and falsely assumed that I was stuck up (the fact that my skin is light also contributed to that misconception, but that’s a-whole-nother topic (remind me to come back to that another time)). I tried hard to blend into the background so there would be no additional loathsome strokes to the already repulsive painting.

I just felt so damn “unpretty” (as TLC put it) for most of my life, and hated that I felt that way. I spent countless dollars on weight gain shakes (which I swear didn’t work a bit, though others thought differently).  I hit the gym obsessively, hoping to at least shape these po’ bones. I considered braces, but didn’t know how (and didn’t want) to pay for them. I imagined getting all types of surgeries. I was worthless, and hated being in my own skin.

What I finally realized – like, yesterday – is people do not (and never will) see me the same way I see me, good or bad.  We all have our own views, views shaped by the words incessantly playing in our heads- day in, day out and nights, too. My own automated system is currently undergoing some critically necessary reprogramming, because I still struggle with my self-worth. It pains me greatly to admit that, but I’m certain it’s the only way I can ever completely heal.  I’ve learned that the important thing is acceptance. Accepting who I am for who I am, in every moment, whatever that moment means. Sometimes the moment means accepting that today my mind tells me I look like an old beat up troll. Or that I’m shaped like a stick figure animation (even though not being able to get into my favorite size 5 jeans is proof in the pudding that I’ve gained more than lost). Sometimes it means accepting that I just might actually be beautiful. It even means accepting that some days I simply do not wish to accept myself, period. Sounds crazy, right? I know. (Now, it could be this barnyard-tasting Pinot Noir I’m sipping on that I’ve accepted is plain disgusting to me, no matter how much I swish it around in my mouth trying to find a sweet spot!!!)

I am what my mind tells me I am. Today it may be this, tomorrow it might be that. Whatever the case, the truth is in acceptance. Just because I spent all those years growing up in Ugly, doesn’t mean I have to stay there. BUT, if that’s where I am it’s my choice and I I have to own it. I only visit though. I’m a work in progress.

TTYL (**sips Pinot**)


*Photo Credit: http://www.blugraphics.com


Healing Pain

Dear Diary,

Even though I don’t celebrate my new year until April 11, as the Gregorian calendar begins to wind down I’d like to pause for a sec and reflect on everything that’s taken place, externally and internally. Most importantly, internally. In the past couple of years, including this one, I’ve experienced the pain of death like never before, and it has been life altering, to say the least. Life doesn’t look like the same place. I was forced inside the walls of my Self. I could do one of two things there: go back to black (which I know so well) or study Me, observe Me and change with the Change.

I chose the second. Why return to a familiar place of darkness and confusion when Life is not familiar anymore anyway? Might as well keep up the momentum. Several months of Self-evaluation led to some harsh truths about myself. If I thought I was hard on my Self before, boy was it worse this time! And I have been hard on me all my life, not accomplishing many things I desired, holding myself in a prison of fear, doubt, judgment, and simply giving too many damns about what other people thought of me and what I should be doing and how I should look.

Right now, though, I’m on a mission to continuously, eternally rest in peace and love, while I walk this Earth school and once I leave it. Daily, I expose my Self to situations that make me uncomfortable, that bring out the worst parts of me, and deal with it all in the name of evolution. No more hiding from the pain; I sit in it. Yes it’s hard! Yes it hurts like hell! I am opening my Self up to all kinds of attack.  But it’s worth it. The pain always eases up a bit, and the healing  gains another inch. It’ll probably take a really long time, but I know my Soul will one day completely heal – that’s why It was sent here!

So I’m going to keep on keep keepin’ on (in the words of Xscape, lol). I’ve already started, so I have to.  Even though the process is difficult -sometimes it’s just so much easier to live in the fog, I just wanna give up – the result will be a magnificent evolution into God’s ultimate desire for me.