Invisible Change


Change is all we have to fear.

The fear of change is the root cause of evil.

What do you think? Let me know in the comments


Patience Is a Virtue Dear

Sunday, every week ….

Prompt: Patience

Music: I couldn’t settle on one thing today so I picked a playlist on Spotify called Brain Food, it says it’s hypnotic electronic.


I’m drowning beneath the fluctuating, undulating, slowly rolling
Crushing weight of this water.

It holds me hostage, tied down by sunlight streaming, reflecting, breaking
Against the seams of who I am.

It strangles me with icy grips, threatening to rip me apart;
Pieces of paper against the downpour, soaked and floating.

Be patient is what they say, what’s meant to be …
May never have been meant for me.

But my mom taught me well,
Patience is a virtue, that’s the story they tell.

So sit with your drowning, collapsing fears.
Hold tight to your scrambling, screaming soul.

After all, patience is a virtue dear
And rescue is never near.

We grasp the daydreams
So that we become the reality.

What’s meant to be speeds overhead
Never realizing, missing, the last bubbling stand.

Sit tight with that patience there.
Help, well help is over there.

Not watching for your drowning hand,
Or your fleeting splashes.

Everything that’s meant to be
Is tied by seaweed,

Held strong to the collapsing floor;
The thin barrier between always there and nothing more.

10 minutes done.

Friday Fiction

When I was a little girl I pressed my nose against the glass of my dad’s old Volkswagen as we passed under bridges in the city. I puffed great smokey blasts of fog to draw little hearts and “hellos” in as the sleeping men tossed in their bags.

“Dad, why don’t we help them?”
“They have to help themselves first.”

There was a woman beneath the bridge today snapping pictures of our homeless communities. Preserving our tents and bags in rough black and white photos for exhibit.

“Don’t you want to help yourself?”

I hear they feed you in jail.


And Friday Fictioneers courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

Go check out The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch

Noisy Journal Writing


This is stuff I found written in an old journal. I typed it up here but never published so it’s been hanging out as a draft for about a year.

How many tears have you cried
Waiting for mine?
Twist your bones, peel away
Scars of old, open on their own.
You’ve always been alone
Watching the world in slow motion.
You’ve never heard the screams
Even when they were your own.

Twist the knife
Ever slow
Make me yours
Take it by force
Worse than hate
Is the apathy
Push me down
Make me feel

I’ll lay in the mud
Face down
Just to make me feel
Twist the knife
Cut just right

I remember the way you feel
In my dreams
Slow and deliberate
Why didn’t you speak?
Why didn’t we speak?

The buzzing is loud.
There are a thousand flies on one body alone.
Not counting the thousands more,
Bodies I mean.
It’s done, in a blaze of glory,
The world was razed.
Now it’s ready.
All the flies,
Swarming a blank slate.
The buzzing drowns everything else out.
I can’t hear you scream,
I’m too busy watching the world burn.
Not that we ever cared anyway.
Not that you ever cared anyway.
Tell me a thousand lies,
One for every fly.
Give me just one reason.
Not that you ever cared anyway.

Check out The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch

The Rain Is Coming


A note for the curious: Daylight savings time does not work on biological clocks. 

Prompt: Meander

Music: Nine Inch Nails: Not The Actual Events

Rivers meander through the woods.

I splash through them in ratty old shoes and uncombed hair.

If I can just follow the babbling stream,

Follow to where the siren voices are calling me.

Dirty fingers clutch my ancient stuffed bear,

A toy from generations before.

His stuffing is busting from the frayed seems in his neck

But I love him anyway.

My constant companion.

The water splashes around my ankles,

Stabbing me with sharp, cold droplets.

How long till the rain comes?

The small stream won’t meander through the woods then.

The storms feed it,

Grow it like a monster in your dreams.

Soon it laps at the edges of our safe spaces.

I have to make it to a safe space before it rains.

Once it starts it will never stop.

The rocks along the bank are slick

But I have to stay close.

If I lose the meandering stream

The rain will surely get me too.

My beloved companion, clutched by an arm,

Is losing steam.

His seams …

Are ripping, falling.

We’re leaving a trail of stuffing.

There’s not time for me to consider,

My young mind knows we should be more careful

But I can smell the rain.

Please check out the poetry over and The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch

Suddenly Is All We’ll Ever Be


Suddenly is all we ever were.
Suddenly friends, lovers, soul mates.
Suddenly alone in the night and in our fight.
We always said “you and me”,
Two against the world.
But the world kept spinning
While our story crumbled between our fingers.
Suddenly I’m lost
In your eyes and smile.
Suddenly I can’t breathe when you look at me.
Suddenly is all we’ll ever be.
Spinning, spinning and we all fall down.

There’s lovely poetry at The Perfectly Imperfect Bunch this week, go check it out