one step closer. just… one step closer, through the nausea and confusion. this is your life. and you’re going to ruin it.

acid raindrops falling to the ground. close your eyes, and cover your mouth.

swallow down the vertigo. just keep walking up, up, up. just keep it up, up, up. and don’t you dare let it drop.

no matter how much i scream, i still can’t make the fire alarm turn off. lightheaded and dizzy, in the smoke pressing in around me. now am i grown up?

because i’ll never get to take this back. and there’s no time to mess up.

24 degrees

the humid air snuggles up close to me. and stays there. and my blood starts to come to a boil as i look into your eyes, because i hate you even more than i hate myself tonight. furious tears, dripping off my chin one. at. a. time.

and you know, they say the skies are rife with disease. say it’s never going back to normal. not completely. and some days, i can’t help but wonder. if this step could be the butterfly that causes the tsunami. if this is going to be the last time you get to see me…

they say i’m withering. like a parched august flower. and you know, maybe it’s time to empty out the vase. rather than just changing the water.

they say i am parched soil after a long, hot wildfire. crumbling under the slightest pressure. 

and the steam seeps into my lungs, air too thick to breathe. and little girl, is this too much for you?

because if this is enough to scare you… then you haven’t seen anything.

distant memory of a good day

it was a good day. i think. and we went to the city, and we felt like big kids all of a sudden. didn’t we? took deep breaths of the fresh blue air, and ate fancy macaroons, and pretended there was not a problem in the world we couldn’t fix, even though that really isn’t true. 

went shopping, and dressed up  like the people we wish we were. and tried to swallow down the panic. and that was one of the last times i saw you. wasn’t it? 

but it was a good day. a really, really good day. and if i had known what was coming, i wouldn’t have spent it any other way. 

and i just want to go back. want to bury myself in the past, and stay there forever. where things were okay. where every day, i didn’t wake up, and feel this fucking afraid. 

because now i’m just alone. and scared. and unsure. and sometimes, it feels like the floor is crumbling beneath me. and it’s just not like that anymore.

So apparently now I literally only write semi-depressing nostalgic poetry about all the things I miss pre-quarantine. But, I don’t know, I am starting to learn how to cope with this, and make something semi-productive out of a really hard time for me. I haven’t had a complete breakdown in a while, and I’m functioning. I’m surviving. I can’t say I’m doing “good” honestly–although I don’t know if I ever have been able to honestly say that, for a prolonged period of time. But I am doing okay, which I think is kind of all I can ask for right now. I hope you all are doing okay, too.  We’re going to get through this together. I have to believe that. Oh, yeah, and on a completely different note, the first episode of my podcast is hot off the digital press and literally just came out! You can listen to it here.

Lots of love,


some fucked up kind of lullaby (spoken word)

This makes me so nostalgic and sentimental, I spent a really long time working on it–and I’m really hoping all that love and care paid off. Also, I’m working for an extra-special video for this one, so stay tuned for that, and I’ll let you guys know when it’s out!

Song is “The Ants Built A City On His Chest” by Doctor Turtle. It is found here (https://freemusicarchive.org/music/Doctor_Turtle/The_Double-Down_Two-Step/the_ants_built_a_city_on_his_chest_v3_1305) and used according to this license (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). It has been modified by me.

“Cricket, close recording: JJ” is by felix.blume on freesound.org. It is found here (https://freesound.org/people/felix.blume/sounds/484416/) and used according to this license (https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/). It has been modified by me.

dear diary

dear diary, i don’t know what i’m doing. and some days, i work until i can barely breathe. and some days i just sort of sit on the couch and watch tv. and i tell myself it’s self-care, but i don’t even know what that word means to me.

dear diary, i haven’t talked to someone offline in weeks, and sometimes i forget to eat. or sleep. and sometimes i just zone out, for hours on end, because i’m so fucking tired. and it’s all the same, isn’t it? 

dear diary, i can’t tell the difference between the past and the present. and i think the people i love are going to leave, and i’m so scared i can’t sleep, and i refuse to be a child again. 

dear diary, don’t you just love how a situation can trigger a memory? how a memory is kind of like a doorway, and how pretty soon you’re sobbing on your bedroom floor, picking your mind apart into frail sheets of tissue paper. still not sure what the difference is, between what you felt and the reality.

and i’m writing this poem because i have to. because once you grow up, the world isn’t fucking going to wait for you. and i’m writing this poem this because i need to. and i’m doing this because goddamnit, i just wanted to impress you. and be the good little girl you always wanted me to be.

dear diary, i flinch every time someone talks to me. and how many fucking times do i have to say i’m sorry?

I really don’t know what to say about this piece–I think it speaks for itself, but just wanted to say I’m thinking about shooting a video to accompany the spoken word track for this poem, which I already have some plans for and am gonna record over the weekend–ack, I feel like that was worded really awkward but anyhow, be excited, I’m super proud of this poem and want to do Many Things with it!