Don’t Help Me

I’ve been tripping

and stumbling

doing my best not

to fall to my death

but then you came

and changed my blue

skies to gray

but then you came

and knocked out my


now I’m crumbling

and crying

but rock bottom’s

never felt this good

how you managed to

pick me up and knock

me down again

I never understood

so I’ll stay down here

so you can’t knock

me back down

I’ll stay down here

where you can’t push

me around

but if you were to

reach out your hand

and pull me back up

just to shove me back down

I’d take it

you know I’d take it

I wouldn’t want anything more

because I like the feel

of the floor




he comes over

we hang out

we make out

we talk about his girl

he gets high

I watch

we kiss

he leaves

we spend an hour

crying on the phone

we laugh

he asks if tomorrow

I’ll be home


Great Expectations

Skinny jeans
Push up bras
Waist trainers
High heels
When are we gonna end it?
When can we accept it?
Nobody’s perfect
But darling,
I can see you working
I can see your body morphing
Into something it’s not
You want to be someone
You’re not
You want to be glossy?
Magazine perfect?
You want to be noticed.
You want to be wanted.
Nail files
Curling irons
Diet pills
Nutrition shakes
Too thick
Too thin
So you torture yourself
You change yourself
Until you can’t recognize yourself.
Apologize to the mirror.
You’re beautiful as you are
It couldn’t be any clearer.
Put it down
Put it down
Stop purging to be perfect
You’ll never be perfect
Nobody wants

Growing Up

When you’re a kid
it’s easy to be an artist
Blank pages
were always drawings waiting to happen.
and you were so excited to show
mommy and daddy what you’ve made.
When you’re a kid
it’s easy to be Pablo Picasso
When you grow up
the paper begins to morph
into a platform for judgement.
You cannot help but compare
your work to the work of others.
When you grow up
you stop drawing
because why waste paper
when someone else can make
something better?
When you grow up
the mirror is a
platform for judgement
as is the camera,
and the sketch pad.
When you fall in love
his eyes become a
platform for judgement.
So you cover your mouth when
you smile.
You cover your face
when he tries to take a picture.
Because why take pictures of me
when she is much prettier?
He tells you he loves you.
He’s lying.
Why would he love you
when she’s so much better?


They’re all undertones
Can’t you see?
Can’t you read?
What I don’t say,
that’s what’s killing me.
Because ‘no’ means yes
And ‘I guess’ means don’t go.
But I guess you can’t comprehend
my cryptic code.
I’m screaming but you can’t hear
It’s all whispers to you my dear.
My floods are tears
and your minutes are my years.
You can’t see
how a few simple words
strung together
so beautifully
could mend me,
could cut me so deeply.
Because a sentence from you
could make my day
and unravel it too.
I like you!
I want you!
I’m thinking so loud.
I wish I could tell you
what I’m thinking right now.
But my thumbs can’t type
what it could break my heart to say
What if you don’t feel the same?
I hide behind
my ‘hi’s and ‘bye’s
because it’s safer for my heart
to tell you lies.

Grandma Tumblr

Come here children
sit around Grandma Tumblr’s
chair and listen to stories
of before
once upon a time
when I was young
living in the age of
social media
teenagers were careful
we did what we could
to dance around words
that could be potentially hurtful
eyes sunken in from late
nights staring at screens
so sheltered behind our
our shoulders began to
curve inwards
as if we were devolving
our heads were heavy from
hunching over to
to scroll
to swipe.
we had flowers back then
but we never stopped to smell them
instead we double tapped
pictures of them
added to our accounts
to make them just a bit more aesthetic.
I remember flowers…
we had trees.
They were our friends.
So we stabbed them in the back
to make room
for buildings
buildings that we would hide in
hunched over.
thumbs up
but we never actually
DID anything.
social media generation
with our smart cars
and solar panels
we still left the faucet running
a little too long
left the lights on all night
drove because it was easier
than taking the bus
We didn’t have to try 
to destroy the Earth.
We didn’t even realize
we were bulldozers
moving slowly
silent but deadly
leaving destruction in our path.
Now grandma Tumblr is old
lungs filled with pollution
you’d think after years and years
of #SavetheEarth
we’d learn
but here we are.

Invisible Bandit

Carbon monoxide
Carbon monoxide
Sneaking past your door
you can’t see him
you can’t see him
he’s coming back for more
odorless gas
it’s coming it’s coming
it’s coming fast
the hole in the ozone grows
but we don’t care
oh no we don’t care
we rev up our engines
and hang on for the ride
we burn coal
we burn oil
we kiss our Earth goodbye
corral reefs are disappearing
in the Philippines
but that’s their problem
not ours
Chinese smog
but that’s their problem
not ours
but would you turn around and say
this is their world
not ours
we can at least
try to not pollute.
Carbon monoxide
Carbon dioxide
Toxic waste
sneaking under your door
they’re coming
they’re coming


Trees are so beautiful.

Forgive me for being so poetic

but aren’t trees just really tall


When we etch our love

into aged bark

do trees not become

metaphors for forever?

When dads spent weekends

nailing together pieces of wood,

creating getaways

that look like castles in the skies

to our bright young eyes

are trees not metaphors

for youth?

When lights strung on tall pines

that fill the living room with that forest smell

you can only smell up North.

The evergreens fill up with

the snow we used to sled down

when we were kids

you pull into your driveway

your mom has the same snowflake

cookies on the table that your grubby

hands used to sneak before dinner

are trees not metaphors for home?

Step outside.

Inhale through your nose.

Hold it for a bit.

Smell the love,

the forest,

the cookies.

Let it out.

Now hold your breath

and imagine what you’ll do

when all those trees are gone.

Is deforestation not a metaphor for death?



We were surviving
and now we’re barely breathing
and if the walls of this damn house
could talk
good Lord they would be screaming
because the walls are like me
silently watching
silently listening
silently taking the blows
and accusations
silently filling up this castle of
but one way
the walls are not like me
is that they are not constantly
constantly self-blaming and
because yes the walls have
stood through years and years
of corruption
but I have stood and slowly watched
the deduction of my sanity
and if the walls of this damn house could talk
they would be screaming
but if the imaginary tape
was ripped from my face
I’d still stand quietly
as the verbal blows
slowly deteriorate me


I’m losing it.

Paranoia heightened.

My grip on you

I tighten.

I know you’re

kind of frightened.

I’m scared.

I’m nervous.

I’m too much

I’m too much

Good God, I know

I’m too much.

I get it if you’re not

for this.

You can go if you

can’t take this.

They all go.

They all leave.

You can go,

if you must.

I’d like it if you stayed.

But you’re free to go away.