puddle image.jpg

I’ve been feeling stuck. Trapped in cyclical narratives about writing and who I am as an artist. A friend suggested I write a poem about something mundane. Like a puddle. So, here it is.

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?


I hate when people say that they “care about me” or when women call me their “friend”. It always seems like a cop out. Like they are dancing around words which hold far more meaning. Words they are too afraid, too cowardly to say. And I hate it.

The Reality of the Situation



Epiphones are radical.  They are the culmination of a series of thoughts which you have undoubtedly had before, but occur in a moment when your mind is completely open to accepting those thoughts as truths, instead of dismissing them, or rationalizing them away as is generally the case.

I had an epiphone today.  It was a long time coming, and had tried desperately to rear it’s ugly head before, but I was in no mind to acknowledge, let alone deal with it.

A survivor of sexual abuse (particularly childhood sexual abuse) does not realize how utterly and completely sex rules their life. Today, I came to the realization that my sexual abuse has touched so many aspects of my daily existence. It has soured countless relationships/potential relationships with one thing, that I took as complete and total, unquestionable truth: when push came to shove, the only thing people wanted from me, was sex.

Now, I had examined myself, gone to therapy, medicated, talked, screamed, cried, and fancied myself mostly past the side effects of my abuse.  That is not to say that I did not realize that there were things here and there which would pop up, but I would deal with those issues as they arose and continue to move forward.

What I did not realize, was that my own perception of myself and of the world was skewed.  I was looking through a dirtied lense and taking all that I saw for truth.  Priding myself on my ability to read people, circumstances, and employ logic and reason to determine the reality of the situation.  I never considered that the eyes with which i was seeing, as well as the mind with which I was deducing, were lying to me, processing an incorrect picture.  When reason is based in falsehood, it is not reason at all.

I had a friend who set me on the path to realizing this truth.  Only six months after setting out on this path to discovery, have I finally reached the entry way.  I am finally seeing what I have known for so long, what my friend was desperately trying to tell me:  sexual abuse alters perception.  Sexual abuse poisons the mind.  Sexual abuse harms us in ways we can never fully imagine.

Only with deep reflection and extreme mindfulness are we able to uncover and amass the infected areas, and successfully root out the poison.

It is a revolutionary concept to me, that relationships can be entirely nonsexual.  The notion that two people can come together and share thoughts, hours, experiences and not want to sleep with eachother,  not have one person motivated by the primary goal of using the other for their own sexual gain, is utterly revolutionary.

How many relationships, friendships, might I still have, had I realized this one beautiful truth?  Countless.  Yet there is no point in looking back in regret, only in reflection to learn, accept, and move forward.

I think of this friend, and of the times that we had together and I think of how much time I wasted viewing our relationship through my dirtied lense. I think how skewed thinking and perception poisoned our relationship and ultimately brought it to an end:

Why is this person spending time with me? Talking to me?  Sharing with me?  Teaching me?  Taking time out of their personal schedule and life to be with me?  They must want something.  They must.

NO.  No, not everyone has some selfish, sexual desire urging them forward.  No, sometimes people just want to spend time with a like mind.  Sometimes people just want a friend to talk to, bounce ideas off of and to learn from.

Not everyone is going to hurt you.

That is a tough pill to swallow; that not everyone is going to completely destroy your soul.  There are bad people, yes.  But there are good people too.  Beautiful people.  Wonderful people. People who are here to teach you and to add richness and greatness to your life – and you to theirs.

Only with a true understanding of your self worth; an understanding that yes, there are sexual relationships.  Yes, you were exposed to that truth in a premature and viscious way, at a time when you were still learning the ways of life, and of the world.  But life is not always viscious.  People are not always selfish.  Relationships are not always sexual.

Trust is hard. Trust is a thing we hold tightly to our breast; I trusted those who betrayed it so devastatingly, when I was so young, so innocent. Trust is a thing which must be earned.  But I am more mindful now,  I am aware of my dirtied lenses and I am making an effort to clean them on a regular basis.

Perhaps with cleaner vision, and a clearer mind, we can learn to let people in.  We can learn how to see the reality of the situation.  Not everything is about sex.  Sometimes, it is just about love.


I see her separate from the crowd 

I know that it is too much for her 

She has just lost a piece of her soul 

Not some miniscule chip, 

But a gaping chunk ripped cruelly from her chest 

I hesitate, then walking over to her  

I watch her light a cigarette. 

Eyes cast down, vacant 

Lowering myself beside her 

I know I am among the last  

People she wants to be near her 

This night has been too much  

These people have been too much 

I want to take away her pain

That is a thing which is impossible

But the desire sits within me nonetheless 

I rest my head against her shoulder 

 Asking softly, ‘what can I do?’ 

‘Just go home’ she says  

I nod, knowing that is not what she wants

That is not what I want 

I want to cradle her in my arms 

Tell her ‘come sleep with me tonight, 

We can put on a movie and you can sob 

Until sleep takes you in.’   

That is not my job anymore 

 That is not what she wants from me 

That is not what she needs.  

So I nod my head and rise from the stoop 

I say ‘take care of you, good night.’ 

Walking away I stare up at the moon 

Its’ silvery light casts a glow upon my face 

I think of you, I think of how happy you would be 

To see the people you love gathered for you 

Missing you.  I think you’d laugh though  

You’d laugh at the people who you barely know 

Who have come out and probably don’t even know 

Your last name.   

I am afraid that I am one of those people 

One of those pretenders, because I didn’t know you long 

I didn’t get to experience all of the wonderful things you had to offer 

I think that, but then I remember the times that we did spend together 

I remember the first day we met, I remember the dancing,

The laughing, the singing, I remember you. 

I miss you.  

So I wander down the street and I channel your presence 

And I give thanks to you. 

I give thanks for you. 

Then, I lower myself into my vehicle, 

Start the engine, and drive.