Category: The Little Black Book of Poems

Chains, Reins, & Brains: I was Getting Out Dead or Alive, Even Though I Wasn’t Sure If I was Going to Survive

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Don’t pretend you know me. Sometimes I don’t even know myself. I certainly didn't back then and neither did he. It hurts that I let him take advantage of me. I'd say no but he'd expect a show. Why? Because I was chemically chained to a friend turned foe. Like when everything hurt —from my body to my skin, I caved and said, “Fine. Let’s begin.” I knew the password (you fucking coward). With one simple word, I could get blurred. But at what cost? I was pissed off, sick and lost. Can you relate? If so, let me advocate. You're not your abuse. You're more like the Greek GOD Zeus. You're the cleverness that survived. So don't forget that you're still alive. And even though I can't erase the fact that maybe we were raped, above all, you're the courage that escaped. Because in the end I fucking won. Here's how it was done.

To The Girl I Used To Be: I Think It’s Time I Forgive Myself

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Dear self, I've been holding onto a lot and I've got to get it out. I'm mad —mostly at myself. I'm mad because I lost over six years of my life. I'm mad that I didn't say no or ask for help sooner. And yeah, I'm mad that I'm mad. It's like the figurative bases were loaded in the game of life. I had one walk to win the game and one out to lose it all. The metaphorical pitcher releases the ball from his glove as gravity accelerates it straight into my bat. It’s like everything was set in place for me to succeed. I was supposed to succeed. Like all I had to do was hit the damn ball. But I couldn’t even do that. So I'd snort a line instead. Not anymore. Starting today, I'm going to try a little harder. I'm going to put in some effort to mend what's broken like all the people I fucked over. I'm going to start on the inside though. Because in order to heal, we must first forgive. And sometimes, the person we need to forgive most is ourselves. Here goes nothing.

The Little Black Book of Poems: Drug of Choice

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A blue circular pill, created from a scientific formula designed to take away the pain. But in all reality, it's killing me. On one side, I had the boy of my dreams. The other, the reason my life was falling apart at the seams. On the outside, it looked like I didn't care. On the inside, I was really scared. In short, I used to hush the chaos in my head. Like I said— I was addicted, restricted, and fucking conflicted.

The Little Black Book of Poems: Bang

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It's over. It's been over for a while now. It took a lot to delete your number; even longer to block you on Facebook. I was still holding, afraid to let go. They say it gets easier each day. I know I wake up further from what I used to be. But some days are easier than others. If I were to say I didn’t miss you —that would be a lie.

The Little Black Book of Poems: Donkey Kong

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Psychopath. Pyromaniac. Fake laugh. Body cast. Nicotine patch. Can I make it last? You mean no. You say yes. First place? Second best. High fashion? Worst dressed. Never right. Always wrong. Trying to find my voice. But I got no song. What's up, Donkey Kong? And when I still can't get it right, I try to remember —Brad Pitt. The club. Fight. I might, just win. Fuck this life of sin.

The Little Black Book of Poems: Faith

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I was walking a tightrope between my old familiar behavior, and the life I thought I wanted. Little did I know, it was leading me to death. The new unknown path promised hope, but I didn't want hope. I wanted to get high. It was a dangerous time. In spite of my wishful attempts to better myself, one part of me —obviously the more influential part, always succeeded in undermining my good intentions.