When Dragons don’t Text Back

‘Would you rather be a dragon or a unicorn?’

I repeat the question my sweetfriend asked the night before

‘Oh. That’s a good question!’


‘Dragon. Definitely dragon.’

I text my friend too much. Sometimes she responds. Sometimes she doesn’t.

I know she loves me.

She makes me feel safe, absorbs my madness and spits out rational thought in her sleep

We talk about sex, fuckery, and the magic of extra biscuits

I am learning this is what friends do

Practicing the art of leaning into my sexuality isn’t a joke

Especially since I tend to extremes, abstinence or Lilith on fleek

These are my settings

Fate and the Universe have sent me on a side-quest to balance

My friend is my inspiration, guide, and also the dragon who lives in old, dark caves fucking with nearby villagers

Weary traveler, exhausted from my quest, I approach the village

Naturally, recognizing my warrior status, the villagers solicit me for assistance

I oblige

Slowly I trek up the mountain to the cave where the dragon sleeps

My approach wakes her. I find her to be perfectly lovely, if a bit surly

She explains that the villagers often climb through her caves and interrupt her sleep

To ward them off, occasionally, she takes to burning one or twelve of them to a crisp

She says they taste wonderful with salt. I laugh

This is how our friendship begins, the warrior and the dragon

I came to slay, but stayed to play

Anyway, I’m texting my friend

We are talking about sex and trips and food that makes us come

I eat a canna-chocolate and write one last message before sleep pulls me under

Typing it, I am glad for her, her fiery mouth and her ancient wisdom

The text is word vomit in the form of late night poetic mania

I know she will not respond, I send it anyway

When she reads it I know she’ll think I’m ridiculous,

Smiling to myself, I think of where we began

Ridiculous, isn’t that what dragons think of man?

Skimming the surface


I feel seen by your eyes; this frightens me

A bead of sweat drips down your face. I stare, enthralled. I find myself contemplating its flavor.

Your mouth has got me shook. I cant. Stop. Staring.

I peek inside your mind and find it lined with shelves, littered with papers and books, some left open and forgotten. I imagine you skim through them from time to time. But only when necessary

I want to be there when you get out of the shower to smooth your skin with shea butter while your body is still steaming, and hot, and wet

Sometimes, I imagine you’re stretched out beside me. We lay on cool green grass below a tall sprawling tree, sheltered from the blazing sun

you know how when you’re reading and you realize your mind has wandered? Well, my mind wanders to you

I fantasize about loving you. For this, I blame you and I blame Audre. In no particular order.

If I’m right, you think of me slightly less than I think of you, this both draws me back and drives me forward

List for me the following:

your favorite book

your favorite poem

your favorite song

I want to search for you in their words

The next time we are alone, I will not tell you how I feel

I write around you, not about you. I tell myself skimming over you is easier than diving in.


I don’t know if what I am is manic

When I spill all over the place

Seem to spatter onto whatever I can find for canvas

Wild, sporadic

Without reason, but with intent

But the calculations run in the background

Hidden from me

Negative space

Writing this i am aware i am mixing metaphors

I am trying to decide if i care

I care too much and what I mean by that is i care too little

Grilling away at the smallest details

I lost where I started.

Sometimes, I step in or outside of myself and  wonder how I got here, look around my room and wonder who chose to put that picture on the wall, or who drank that tea?

Not me.


I often regret speaking

as soon as the words leave my mouth

i wish them back

want to pull them back,

I have a desperate need to be loved

Wanted, it’s classic and cliche and yet

there it is

trailing after me,

a sad, wilted shadow,

straining for sunlight

waiting to grow and stretch and bask

in golden warmth

but i shy away from it

find that I love when shadow

merges with shadow

creating perpetual darkness

it is when i am here that i am most afraid

Chaos is Order 

My mind is getting chaotic again
The evidence sits around me

in piles of clothes and pages and cups

of half drunk tea &coffee &beer 

scattered bits of my reality lay abandoned

in different stages of interaction

Like bouys out at sea
This is what the soul weaving looks like

This is what the soul bleeding looks like: 

Hidden order 
Creation and destruction have a similar face

Hail from the same place

Leave me aching

In the same space
This room is getting smaller now
walls are closing in

As my mind expands

This space contracts

Pushing me deeper

into myself


Like the depths of the sea

It’s not enough to just

Dip a toe into the waters

Of chaos

It is necessary, for me

to become totally, utterly

Burning Bridges

I cast my torch upon the straw.  Tiny sparks flew from the fiery light as atoms merged and expanded, shooting flames upon the rotting post.  I stepped back, marveling at how quickly chaos reigned. Flames danced across the boards, weakening their resolve, until they ultimately crumbled to ash, and fell to the ground.

Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.

I hesitated, only for an instant; then remembering what she had said, raised my head toward the highest flame and gave up my silent prayer.  This bridge would serve as a symbol, as would it’s ashes.

Bending down, I retrieved a small, glass vial from my cloak pocket, and scooped up the ashes from the post, before replacing the stopper into the vial.  Returning it to my pocket, I closed me eyes and drew a steadying breath.  Hands toward the sky,  I recited the incantation,  just as the woman had instructed.

I waited, nothing happened. I felt no different than I had the moment before.  Had I missed something? Perhaps not, the woman hadn’t said that I should feel anything, I just assumed that I would.  No matter. Resolving that I had no choice but to move on, I slipped my feet from my boots and in doing so, nearly lost my footing.

The earth shifted and my vision altered.  I felt my body spiral, carrying me full circle before throwing me upon the earth. It writhed and twisted.  Soft moans escaped my lips, partnered with words I had never before heard, let alone uttered.  I was not my own, yet I was not afraid.  It felt almost – natural. Almost.

It was with this realization that my body’s uncontrollable writhing ceased.  I lay there, suddenly naked, upon the forest floor.  Burning bridge throwing it’s heated glow upon my motionless form as Shadowy figures played upon my flesh.

Though the movement had stopped, the incantations remained.  Freckled with the occasional moan, the language came bolder, far bolder than during the madness moments before.  I felt an energy growing inside of me.  Pulsing through my veins.  Building and swimming around my body, until I was full.

Filled to the brim and certain I would burst.  Certain my skin would break open and I would explode. Sensation of madness returning to my conscious mind, the words turned to screams ripping woefully from my throat.  All sanity threatened to abandon me…threatened to leave me forever until … it didn’t.

The screaming stopped.  An ear piercing Snap! cracked through the trees, reverberating off of the forest floor, and back to where I lay.

I opened my eyes and found myself no longer surrounded by trees, but blossoms.  Thousands of red blossoms blanketed the earth, yet, the bridge was still there.  Still burning.

Looking through the flames, I could almost make out a figure on the other side; cast upon the ground, surrounded by trees.  The forest.  Was that me ?  How could I be there, when I was so plainly here ?  How did I cross the bridge, when I had not moved from where I lay naked, upon the earth ?

My fingers encircled the shaft of the torch as proof, for it remained just where I had cast it down.  And the bridge still burned. Never mind.  There was no time for that.  I had far greater things weighing upon my mind, making the how and why of my present circumstances trivial at best.

Rising to my feet, I struggled to orient myself.  Which way should I go? I appeared to be in the middle of an infinitely large clearing, unable to see anything but flowers and sky, in any direction I gazed. What I wouldn’t have done for a compass, though I was not entirely certain how that would assist my endeavor, especially considering the fact that I had no true inkling as to what it was that I was looking for. Nor where I was to go in search of it.  It would have made me feel a bit better though.

Lowering my body to the earth once more, I knelt, digging my fingers into the soil and tilted my head to better observe the blossoms.  They all appeared to have their faces lifted slightly towards the sky and listing a bit to the left.   If that was the way that the flowers were looking, that was the way I would go. The soil beneath my hands seemed to pulse in assent.  Letting it fall from my fingers, I rose to the ground and began my journey. One foot in front of the other, was to me, the best course of action. That was, unless I wanted to try to cross back over the bridge…but that seemed like a problem for another day, and worlds away.

No, whatever was in store for me, lay to the left, and it seemed, only the flowers knew how to get me there.

Tell Me More

I remember kissing you,

Rolling over and pulling your body into mine

Inhaling the musky, earthy scent of you.

Somehow, I worked up the courage to

Look into your eyes and you,

Lovely you,

Gazed back, unflinching, unmoving.

Tentatively, I ran my fingers through your hair,

I touched each strand,  and let them fall through,

Weave themselves around my fingers and watched

In wonder as your eyes drifted slowly closed,


Your smile sent warmth directly to my soul

I lived to see that smile tug at the corners of  your mouth,

Watched as your lips ordered me to kiss them,

Swooned while your eyes begged me to love them,

Wrapping my arms around your body

I buried my face in your neck and felt

You open to me, welcome me.

You spoke to me in the language of my heart

A language I had thought only I understood

But that first night, I looked into your eyes and

From the moment our lips touched

You spoke to me, fluent and clear,

Whispered your understanding,

And I heard my heart say,

Tell me more.


These are the things that I wanted to tap into.  But I couldn’t —wouldn’t.  I didn’t know how.  Hadn’t accepted that it was a thing which I needed to do.  I was in so much denial about myself, it is shocking to me.  My disillusion.  My blindness, apathy.  I had no concept of how much my adoption has to do with who I am.  Not simply my relationships, or feelings, but how it wove itself into how I view myself as a person, as a lover, a friend, a sister, a daughter, a woman.  I never considered. 

Truth is, I didn’t want to consider.  That was a door which I dared not open, for fear of what I might find.  So much crowded my plate already; dealing with my failure to complete school, the performance in my classes, work, relationships.  Finding a way to cope with my race, childhood sexual abuse, issues with my ‘brother’, parents, family… were already so overwhelming, I did not believe I had the strength to consider. 

If I had though, I would have seen that underneath all of these issues, at the root, the pit in the center of my universe, it was there.  Creeping along the edges of my conscious mind, swarmed the insecurities I felt surrounding the circumstances of my adoption, infecting all of these areas and magnifying them tenfold.   

It has cut me apart.  Little by little, causing me to question the validity of my ‘intrinsic’ self-worth.  Eating at how I value myself, in comparison with others.  The figures don’t look good.  I don’t look good.  And it kills me, because I know that I was given up (God, just that phrase, ‘given up’) so that I might lead a better life.  So that I might have better opportunities, a better home.  In a lot of ways I did.  In a lot of ways I am sure that the wall which holds the doors of my opportunities is indeed, vast.   

That doesn’t change the fact that it hurts. I hurt.  I am wounded.  It is a wound which was inflicted at birth and has never been properly tended.  It has festered and become a sore.  I must tend it, heal it.  Only then will I allow myself to lead the life I know I was born to live.


Pandora. Her box is vast and deep as it is wide.

Secrets and demons bubble inside, like hot, molten tar, sputtering and hissing.

Latching onto the sides and climbing, desperately seeking freedom.

Seeking release from their cage. Single goal, to seek, conquer and destroy all those waiting on the other side.

The lid remains shut. Sealed up tight, save for one crack.

One tiny little crack which buildup has worn down over the ages.

Disaster seeps out. Drop, by devastating drop.

Pandora’s box may not ever be opened, but her demons will find release.

Down in the trenches of the human psyche, there lay a pit.

Darkness and desire pool and rise, seeking to take over the chambers of the heart.

Seeking to pervert the sweetest and simplest of emotions, and twist them into something more.

Something complex, bitter.

An emotion which leaves a bad taste on the lips, causes one to smack their tongue upon the roof of the mouth, in a futile attempt to expel the bitterness; the sourness, the truth.

The truth that this is how it feels now. Gone are the sun-drenched emotions of yesterday.

The sweet sensations excited by a smile upon a face, or a gust of wind, blowing hair.

Simple is gone. Now these moments hold something else. Something deeper, darker.

Always when a layer is peeled back, another remains in it’s place.

Damn Pandora and her Box. I didn’t even notice.

Breezing past her, with her body shrouded in ebony silks and linens; eyes cloaked in mystery and knowing, she saw me.

My gaze caught hers for the briefest of moments and it was then, it must have been then, that the droplet fell upon my skin.

Demons seeped into my flesh and began their trek to my soul.

Taking over, driving out the lightness of my spirit and replacing it with their wretchedness.

They called it wisdom.

I should have known better. I felt it grow inside of me, but did not think to stop it.

Could not stop it, even if I had wanted to. I was too far gone.

Demons like the shadows. They took nicely to the caverns of my heart.

Though light had long-term residence there, the fact remains that with the brightness of the sun, inevitably come shadows.

Casting shapes upon walls, dancing and swirling; it was there that the demons began.

Finding refuge in the deep spaces, dark spaces, conspiring with the emotions which had already sought solace from the light.

These emotions had been frightened. Afraid for their survival as the light was determined to drive them from my body.

So they fled. They fled and hid until Pandora’s demons arrived, and they were elated.

After all, there is strength in numbers. Safety too.

With that revelation, all things sad, angry, hurt, woeful, wrathful, vengeful, and otherwise dark and twisted, began their work.

Chaos reigned and my spirit was doomed.

Heart overrun, it’s caverns swarmed by thousands of demons, spawned from the pool of molten tar which had formed within my soul.

Flying up the walls of my heart and perching themselves upon the veins – my heart was blackened.

To squeeze it, one could feel demons moving and squealing in agony as their wings were crushed, and bodies pressed to each others’ backs.

To release, one could hear the sighs of relief; see them stretch their wings, and settle back into formation.

Undaunted. Resolute once more in their total conquering of that which was formerly known as my self.