Hello, I AM.

  • The Ramblings of a Madwoman

The Ramblings of a Madwoman: A Body.

It breaks down all of the time.

How am I suppose to love something that is always betraying me?

My hands stab–

myself in the back

that breaks with each thrust of the blade.

My legs give–

under the weight of my world

and my own problems.

My face, morphing–

a stranger stares back at me,

“who the fuck are you?” I scream

with tears running down,

drowning me

but the face doesn’t make one single sound.

I don’t make a sound.

I’m Scared of My Body

I’m scared of my body

I’m scared of the storm

of pops and cracks that come with nearly every step

but I have come to learn there is power in fear

. . .

I feel the power and fear of taking ownership

which looked like

ignoring the side-eye from a man who stood next to me as we shared a mirror and I

shaved my face.

. . .

I seized the power

of viewing my body as

less of a burden

when I choose to feel its heart in other places

beating besides my chest

like on a February night when I held his hand

and we ran down the street collapsing in laughter

like the kind I was trying to

hold in when he snapped my bra in the school hallway many years earlier.

. . .

I’m scared of my body

I’m scared of the storm

There is fear in the power of the silent aftermath of the tide’s rising

and the tide bringing in my own personal truth

the truth being limitations of what my body can do

putting the tight lid from a jar

on dreams of a delivered truth

I didn’t know I had.

Back and forth beats goes the beat of the heart that is everywhere but in my chest

my eyes soaking in words from a tiny screen

I feel safety in clothing myself in the simple promise that

it is okay to work through whatever it is I need to work through

and I’m wanting nothing more than to touch him

but now there’s a collective fear of losing trust in our bodies to a mysterious presence, and so much of this trust is missing from me,

from you,

from your neighbor down the street

now there is just fear of not knowing

how much our bodies can withstand.

. . .

I’m scared of my body

I’m scared of the storm

there is power in fear

and I fear I am

falling in love

with the notion of acceptance

and gratitude for the fact

it is mine, and I can give it away if I so choose,

It is mine and I think I love it.

It can do this and that and this and that, and it can hold so much.

It’s been wrought with grief

from losing that boy

who became a man who struggled with devastating disease but sometimes still remains alive in my mind’s eye in a snapshot

of a boy

who once giggled as he snapped my bra in the hallway when we were fifteen,

It’s held me down and kept me in the ground as I-

read the words of another man and think to myself,

“How could I possibly be more infatuated with him

or infuriated I can’t feel his touch,

the only thing my bones know for sure

is of his importance.

. . .

I’m scared of my body

I’m scared of the storm

There is little fear in protection

Like when my body said I’m sorry I may hurt you from time to time,

but I’m here.

With roots and dainty fingers whose ring size is just ULTRA tiny

I’m here for you to breathe every morning in the still promise of breathing and understanding you’re still here.

you’re still here you can walk-

Good god, do you have the ability to speak!

Watch what you say about me and my abilities.

I’m here to hold you-

I’m here to house you after every twister.

Immaculate Conception

Hail Mary

Filled with disgrace,

That man was with you.

Never letting tears roll down your face,

You wished to weep

As his hands touched your thigh,

But you must be his fragile sheep

As his fingers go inside

Your holy vessel.


Holy Mary

You pray to God

That a fertilized egg won’t nestle

In the sheets of your womb.

You can’t bear the child of a sinner,

But as he thrusts

You must

Lay silent in your room.

Your duvets wraps like a cocoon.

You shrivel from his hot breath


And at the hour of your death.


Hail Mary

Just in case,

You take a test.

You fear

That little pink plus sign

And as the time comes near

Your heart

Beats out of your chest.

Ten more seconds.

Wait and see.

His child is with thee.


Holy Mary

A mother, by god

Of a bastard baby, leeching.

Outside, you wear a smile

As the lamb of god has gifted you with child.

But inside your soul is screeching,

Your faith is in shambles.

How could the lord let this man take your innocence and pride?

You pray for the sinner,

But you hope that he breaks

Under the weight of his sins,

Like the cracks in your over-stretched skin.

You hope his conscience makes him sick

Just like his child makes you

Every morning at six.

You hope he suffers, just like you


And at the hour of his death.

She’s a Warrior

You wouldn’t be able to tell just by seeing

Her messy hair, her stained blouse, her smiles for days

She’s a warrior.

You wouldn’t be able to tell just by hearing

Her laughs, her jokes, her quick remarks

She’s a warrior.

You wouldn’t be able to tell behind closed doors

Where she cries, where she hides, where she sleeps endlessly

She’s a warrior.

How could you possibly see

Her bloodied hands tearfully clutching her success, in fear of it slipping away at any moment?

How could you possibly hear

Her inner dialogue a battery mix of self-loathing, manifestation, and determination?

You couldn’t possibly know that behind closed doors

This brilliant, complex, ambitious girl

She’s a warrior.

anxiety attack

Everything feels wrong.

When you notice the sound that the air makes And how round the sky is, fitting perfectly on top of our fish bowl of An atmosphere we swim on and float on and think on and breathe on. And nothing and everything makes sense When you realize your brain is just a dense formation of tiny living things. It’s like your mind is as solid as a bird’s wings But as abstract and surreal as nameless other things. And your breath is moving up to speed. And your heart pumps so fast, like it’s trying to scream But your head won’t allow it. Society says it’s wrong and you say it doesn’t matter But you’re trapped in a song thats been playing for hours. Repeating and repeating for days on end And you wish it would stop. Please, please, let it end. I think that I’m dying and no one believes me. I can’t breathe anymore and no one can see me. What have I done to deserve such despair? These hands won’t stop shaking and pulling my hair. Why does nobody care That the air isn’t still And my lungs and my heart move by their own will? How can we explain this strange place where we live? Heart is slowing now. Something’s gotta give.

I just need to sleep. I’ll feel better tomorrow. Until next time, Anxiety. It’s your turn now, Sorrow.