Blog Archives

rag doll

“all i want is money, i don’t have time for friends” is what she said. then there she was, with him. ever seen a flower ready to bloom? this was her once. 6years i regret my cowardice. of that night,

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muse2

statues are fascinating. did you ever see why? when it starts, a butterfly is all there was… fluttering a dream, in some sculptors mind. only to find anew, the perfection of his simple heart: surrounded by crowds, to see the

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Posted in friendship, generation, love, mental health, miami, nonfiction, ode, personal, poem, poems, poetry, reading, recovery, relapse, start, trance, Uncategorized, unique, unrequited love, writing

Drink

Have you ever seen Heaven then turned the other way. Afraid. have you ever tasted Freedom, then chose a chain. Blackest of black nights, doesn’t compare to (it eats color), it is an abyss. ever been there? so alluring, to disappear. voices,

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Posted in abuse, addiction, art, dark art, fiction, friendship, generation, local, love, mental health, miami, miami art, millenials, personal, poem, poems, poetry, reading, recovery, relapse, short story, shpongle, tablets, trance, Uncategorized, unique, unrequited love, writing

Reaching out for Help

Originally posted on Boch Special:
Something I’ve never been good at. Why not though? I’d love to help out other struggling artists. Why not let others help me? Lets see how this goes :P. My love for writing will never…

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Reaching out for Help

Something I’ve never been good at. Why not though? I’d love to help out other struggling artists. Why not let others help me? Lets see how this goes :P. My love for writing will never diminish! Fundraising Websites – Crowdrise

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Posted in abuse, addiction, art, bipolar, bipolar 2, dark art, fiction, friendship, gallery, generation, goa, haikus, local, love, mental health, miami, miami art, millenials, nonfiction, ode, plot, poem, poems, poetry, reading, recovery, relapse, sexual abuse, short story, shpongle, Uncategorized, unedited, unique, unrequited love, writing

Alice 3

Alchemy from a divine recipe has altered mine eyes, to reveal how small the yesterdays look, as they fade to dullness, a voice booms hope from outside the tower, in my mind, a lost girl creator of worlds infinite with

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Shadow

It has troubled me from the start, Following every moment, basking in a shade. To what do I owe the swamp? From which I came, It calls in voices familiar. In troubles that are so linear, that unto the beast

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rambles

Relapse is the dreaded monster under the bed, the proverbial elephant in the room, and at the same time an unavoidable part of the recovery story. This is not to say that relapse is required or a part of recovery,

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cheshire

the sun drizzles an orange glow on the brick roofs, its quite the sight, after a day of puking emotions. in contrast to the quiet and stillness of the mossy trees, that arranged themselves in disorder. it reminds me of

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swampy ponderings

treading through a swampy pondering, lost and sticking in those same old spots, escaping the phantasms of yesterdays, and stumbling over the possibilities, the mangroves shudder as i spiral further inward, but then i remember a time, where words made

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