Creative Writing · Dreams · Free Write · Melancholy · Poetry · Writing

More Dreams


Had another dream of being gunned down

Hiding behind children’s dresses with


I haven’t seen for years

I am in the old neighborhood

Walking avenues by the graying churches

I keep searching for you

Down long hotel walkways

And the darkness of

Half lit streetlights causes another panic

Whats with the active shooter drills?

And why is there never a warning?

People think I am that other woman

I go back and nobody knows my name

Earlier that day

I was separating my life into grocery bags



Three shirts

No maybe 10

What am I doing?

The is a glowing robot

Circling the churchyard

Collecting bugs as a vacuum should

My nephew chases after the glowing orb

But I can’t catch him fast enough

I can feel them biting my arms and shoulders

The little creatures collect on shirts

My great grandmother stands in the doorway

Directing me to eat more fruit

All I want is a yogurt and a little time

My room is torn about in the courtyard

I have no home

And I continue to lose the kitties

The leashes are not enough

I wrapped the doodles tightly but she

Slips through the leather restraints

And behind every door

There are cracks in the car

Windows closure

I can not grasp the

Straps tight enough

I am sleeping in various places

Once familiar

Each place now a mixture of memories fading

And contemporary reconstruction

Into a room that I can almost recall

I am walking the line of knowing

The bullets around me echoing

I only see backs leaving

Far into the distance

Creative Writing · Dark · Dreams · Free Write · Poetry





It’s always you

Coming back in without permission

Invading my mind

You try to fuck me like the old days

And tell me i am overreacting

I watch you turn away

And disappear

This time her name is rachel

But i see her as a mirror

A compact i used to own

And i break her

In that porcelain bowl over and over

Then steal her and her money

It’s vegas

And were trapped in cars

Where i still can’t find mine

Shitting bags of vegetables

And ripping my skin off

Raw pieces i can not hide

Creative Writing · Dreams · Free Write · I Miss You · Melancholy · Poetry · Writing

Dreamy Memories

There are a million things I wish I could say to you and countless memories I would put to word.

But how does one begin to  describe the images etched into my mind?

The spirit recalls childhood moments, but it is fuzzy and my sister and I are in my grandparents basement.

The smell of the couches and sleeping in oversized t-shirts on the fold out couch in the spare bedroom.

I remember my grandparents on either side of the bed. We read the life of  bears and Hans Christian Andersen fairy tales. I remember that big white book. Rumplestiltskin and the ugly duckling.

I remember cold cereal in the mornings and the smell of coffee brewing. I remember chilly Halloweens and looking forward to hot homemade apple cider with real cinnamon sticks. I remember laughing and painting and sitting in the bleachers on Saturdays… watching you coach basketball games.

How lucky I am to have these inside me, sewn into my heart.

How sad it is that no one else will ever know.

I wish. I wish….

Creative Writing · Dreams · Free Write · Personal · Poetry · Writing

I am dreaming of you and I am not sure you even know my name…

I met you in my sleep again

Always in grocery stores

I invited you to my short bus

A drunken fortitude

I wondered what you wanted

What you expected

I tried to find you in the right way

I wanted to touch you and

Forget my pain for a moment

But then you were gone

And I was driving ambulances

Without codes

To try to find you

I hide behind purses

And vomiting strangers

Door one I will lose my memory

And the other one is not fun

I tried to run

To get back to you

But shooting blades are blocking

A cage to keep me out

Dark · Dreams · Free Write · I Miss You · Melancholy · Poetry · Sadness · Writing

I think you left today and I still want to save you. 

In that big house mixed with rooms we used to sleep in. Used to be together in.

You have a brother and I can’t remember where he came from.

On the old box tv with knobs and fuzzy faces.

Billie Jean plays on…

On that futon I lay across you.

I look you in the face and tell you I love you.

I know your mind is floating elsewhere.

Your brother joins and kisses me. His hands down my pants.

Still you do not notice.

Still you do not care.

The house is filled with cheap kids, punk rockers, old drunks.

The usuals.

They say they need me to get them liquor.

You say you want to come.

But the house turns dry and the heroin fades.

You say I am off the hook and to go away.

I place a glass lamp on your head and pour the water in.

I see you drowning.

I see you gasping.

Please don’t.

I keep turning over the globe but the liquid consumes your face.

I yell I am sorry.

I am so sorry.

I love you.

Please don’t die.

I try to smash this glass prison.

I smash it over and over on the cement.

They say the man isnt real.

But my best friend is on my left.

I scream until I am gasping and I wake inside my bed.

I long always to save you, into the reaches of my head. 

Dreams · Free Write · Poetry · Writing

Its Me Again

You arrived and announced

“It’s me again”

In dimly lit bars and bathroom stalls

I search the room

Always looking for you

Always wanting your touch

But you are still loving others

And I continue to chase your silence

Your back to my face

How long can I survive this way?

I tempted fates and destiny

The way I thought you could be

My only one


I continue even in my dreams

To fight for you

To cry for you

I wonder how many more nights

My mind sees the same

It is snowing

I am begging you

“Please don’t go”

I scan the trees and sidewalk

I run and scream out your name

You are not to be found

You leave me alone once more