Ugly Existence

My existence has been ugly,
my worthlessness affirmed early in life,
determined to etch out a place in this world
but I couldn’t even say the word right.

Failure has always been my best friend;
she was there, never alluded me.
on the other hand, no matter what I did or how hard I tried,
Success never included me.

My existence has been ugly.
You can still hear the shaking and rattling in my voice when I speak,
my tongue still sits heavily on the floor of my mouth unmoving,
my throat is a muscle a level below weak.

The mirror has always been very cruel;
beauty did not show up, light did not shine.
You could flip it at any angle
and the images were still unkind.

My existence has been ugly,
there probably could have been a better way,
because even in the shadow of the shadows,
there was never any escape.

I have had to sit in my existence,
it is a place I will always dwell;
however I choose to exist
I must wear that existence well.

My existence has been ugly,
a thing of self-imposed hell.
My existence has been ugly,
and if you have seen my face, you can surely tell.

Room Temperature

Maybe the film on the surface

cheapened my experience with the zin;

Maybe they will always only watch from the windows

and never come in;

Maybe my fragments are not enough

but my wholeness too much for them;

Maybe I am better equipped to lose

than to win.

Maybe I should stick with the bitter,

and forget the sweet;

Maybe I should simply pair it

with better foods to eat;

Maybe I should continue

to let them control me;

Maybe I should sacrifice who I Am

for the ones close to me;

Maybe I should just drink it at room temperature,

seems to taste better that way to me.

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