Bouncing in Circles by Counts of 5

I sit alone in a crowded room
Surrounded by nothing but time
Memories lived bouncing in circles by counts of 5
And I always stop on 12:20 on the dot
The day that I met you
And I swear time stopped
You warmed a cold, broken heart
And if I knew then what I know now I would've ran away from you
Far away from that day
For we shared a bitter love
One that ended before it really began
And after all the love lost
I lost another friend

I Am Not My Hair...

...A lesson I am learning the hard way. Since I began my lupus treatment my hair has slowly been falling out. I cut off most of it as an attempt to slow down the rate at which it was falling out, but the truth is nothing is going to stop it short of stopping my medicine. It's hard not having hair as I've always been that girl with long, beautiful hair and now I'm bald and sick. Still fabulous though. Just thought I'd share....

Before the Lupus...

First chop after hair started falling out in August...

When it all fell out in September...

October 2011

Halloween 2011

UPDATED PHOTOS

November 2012

November 2013

I Run Backwards To You

Come with me on a journey
Littered with words falling down a broken highway
Running from here to there
As sunrise meets sunset and day becomes night
The hour glass spills over into our reality
Eternity scurries past my eyes
As my soul eternally cries why
And if only time could rewind itself
I’d find myself backtracking past tracks
Left foot behind right foot
Down a rose adorned golden path
Tracing back a dotted line that started with you.

2 parts of a broken heart would mend itself to become whole again
No longer two
And the cold stares that we now share
Returning to lukewarm glances that gave birth to smoking hot circumstances
Inhaling and exhaling
Til your breath became mine
Your heart beat controlling mine
Pulling my strings
My lonely heart races
Through countless embraces
You buried your seed in my soul
And in other places
Naked bodies would be clothed then naked again
In euphoric embraces that conjure dejavu
You’d let go of my hand as tears quietly ran up my cheeks
And hid behind my pupils
Teaching anyone who’d listen how to open their heart and love
But I watched thick brick sturdy walls fall
Up and down to the sound of sweet poetry
Whispering anything to me to get your arms back around this
Sexy black lips locking in a kiss
Face-to-face we sit still til your scent fades
From nothing between us to nothing but space
Fading fade fading away
Til there’s nothing left to see
And I wonder when my day will come.

Treasure hunting has me scavenging
Tick tock tick tock
For this special clock
That can abruptly stop time, shuffle and rewind
To fast forward time or rewind to skip not so pleasant moments of my life
A clock that magically allows me to
Skip them as I run backwards to you
Lost in translation
I lose track of heartache and pain
Held captive by the dissociative characteristics of a migraine
As blame consumes the queen I used to be
Optimistic me transforms into bitter, irate, and jaded me
Frantically looking for a chance meeting to escape my reality
Or perhaps a simple key
Masculine is he that unlocks my dreams
As he reminds me I’m carrying his seed
So this journey of words and self-speak doesn’t ever have to back track
No rewinding or intermingling of time
Just sunsets and sunrises as the short hand dances in circles around time
Til new life is here
Marking the creation of my eternal flame
I shall call him the truth
And he is my new beginning.

Standard of Living....

Ignorance is alive in America. I think we would like to think that collectively as a community we have made progress, but if you take the time to exam the issues plaguing our society in the 21st century, you’ll see that not much has changed. I think of how much Americans have endured as a people and even more so with minority groups such as African-Americans, Latinos, Asians, or even homosexuals. We have all at some point been discriminated against. I guess that is why it surprises me that people will continue to knock each other down instead of building each other up. This is something that happens within a race or even towards other races. It all starts with a little respect.

Recently Houston based rapper, Slim Thug, earned himself some negative press as the result of an interview he gave where he in my opinion blamed black women for black men’s problems. The fact that he has an opinion or even favors other races over his own when it comes to dating isn’t the issue at hand. We all have our preferences. We have all experienced different things. I’m saddened that in this day and age, people are still quick to condemn and entire race based on the actions of a few. Regardless to what he may or may not have meant, he has a social responsibility to the public to be aware of what he says. He is not an everyday Joe and his words are magnified and heard all over the world. I am but one person and realistically how many people will ever even read this post? When you are a celebrity, you are forced to be accountable for your words or actions. Don’t stereotype everyone because of the females you deal with. Some guys are quick to boast about everything they have that they want people to be jealous of and in the same breath are mad that you seem to be attracting women that look for those same things you are boasting about. Starting to see a pattern yet fellas? If that is not what you are trying to attract them stop advertising it. Instead of making it an issue within ALL black women how about you evaluate yourself and the people you choose to associate with. Afterall, these are the people shaping your views and it is not representative of black women as a whole. If you find yourself always surrounded by the same elements, fix it! Open your pretty brown eyes and look the hell around! Who cares how big your rims are; impress me by reading a book or having an intelligent conversation. Are you a provider for yourself and your family? That is the main question that I want to know. I am tired of people who choose to not change their stars getting mad at those people that do. You can work hard. Nothing comes easy. Life is what you make of it. If you chose the low road, you can’t get mad at someone that took the high road; someone that continues to better themselves and their situation.

Over these last few days people (men mostly) kept saying that women have high standards. Okay. That could entirely be true, but like most journalists, I had to ask what high standards were; a question that no man was willing to answer. At most I heard high meant unobtainable, but that doesn’t shed any light on where black men would like black women to be mentally. What do I look for in a man? In a word…SUCCESS. You may wonder what does that mean. It means that I cannot take on another liability. I am rapidly approaching my 30s and cannot imagine myself having to play taxi cab for my mate. He doesn’t have to be rich, but at 30, if he still makes minimum wage or close to it he can’t help me. Does that make me a gold digger? I say no. I’m not looking to be wifed by some NBA player with a multi-million dollar contract just like I’m not trying to snag the successful business man. I am however forward thinking and if we can’t support ourselves, how will we afford kids or anything that the future throws our way? I have no intentions of voluntarily signing up for a life of financial turmoil. Say what you want, but I’m sure most people feel the same way.

We all get dealt the same number of cards, but it is up to each and every one of us to make the best out of the hand we are dealt. The only true losers in life are those that don’t even show up to the game. Life is a series of obstacles and each one that you are successfully able to overcome will make you stronger.  When you look back over your life and all that you have been able to achieve, you’ll be able to smile; on the inside and out.  

Riddle Me This....

Wasted time spent arguing and debating with simpletons. Yes I am confident in my own abilities to articulate my perception of the truth. I debated a seemingly simple concept with someone that claimed my strategy merely consisted of using big words to argue my point. Funny how some people think that they are always right and even will be bold enough to tell you how you feel. She told me I just didn't know it yet. Without any self control I laughed in her face; a laugh so good I could feel it in my toes and if only she knew how stupid she sounded, i'm sure she would've been laughing with me.

I don't pretend to be the smartest person, but I am capable of logical reasoning supported by facts. As a result, I feel like anyone that can't comprehend the words that I spit at them, doesn't deserve my time or a decent explanation. I talk to some people and honestly I believe I'm being punk'd. But nonetheless its just more ordinary people giving me migraines.

Sometimes I wish we could institute a standardized test for public speaking and anyone that scored below a certain point would be restricted to their living quarters. I HATE people that much!!! Hate is such a strong word, but it fits perfectly.

I Should Be Studying...

I know that I should be studying but when the mood hits you, as a writer you should take pen to pad and let your mind free itself from captivity. I think more than the average person mostly because I spend a lot of time alone. When the noises subside and quiet is all that you have left, you'd be surprised and what you hear.

My fears resonate and quickly grow from small concerns to life shattering decsions and I find myself quickly becoming a victim all over again. I am strong enough to beat just about anything, but the scariest thing I have come into contact with would be my memories. Memories that are constant reminders of every mistake and every good thing that has gone bad. Memories represent years of regret and oppression. I am shackled and chained to an imaginary hurdle that I have yet to discover how to escape it.

Sexually Satisfied

Looking for him to invade my space

I open myself

He swallows the knowledge I throw at him

And in return he gives me a taste

He caresses my breast with a swift stroke of his hand

His touch beckons me to his every demand

My ghetto wordsmith plays chopsticks on my mind

Working his way line by line to a predetermined destination...a predetermined time

Before thoughts that were his genuinely become mine

Pleasuring me comes first

Riddled with metaphors and similes

He uses like and as in the same paragraph

Simultaneously and it has nothing to do with the tightness of my jeans

He tickles my pink ribbon with hyperbolic dreams

The things he says are never as they seem

I am his toy; he playfully tantalizes and taunts me

Leaving me hanging on each word

Whispering sweet nothings into my ear

"Can you hear me?"

I embrace him and release more than just my fear

I beg for more as he goes deeper

Deeper into here; my core

Being more than just a sexcapade

I let him take me there

Reaching out I pull him into me

And 2 somehow equals one

We reach our seemingly infinite peak

A voyage that likes to touch but only mandates speech

Tears fall from my eyes until my truth becomes yours

The truth that what you share with me takes me on the greatest high

Yet I escape the dangers of lust and promiscuity

Your juices become mine

We produce offspring

Reading and writing between the lines

An exchange of the minds

That leaves you and I sexually satisfied

It's easy to choose death, but it's hard to choose life

So it's the moment of truth. The moment that will forever ever change my future. I sit here at an empty table with nothing more than my laptop, my frappuccino, my favorite song on repeat and a vivid imagination to enhance my memories.

Today I listened to a song and it took me to a special place. A place I haven't been in so long and a place I hope one day I'll reside permanently. We are all a reflection of our pasts. Whether it's been good or bad, it has inevitably shaped each and every one of us into a person different than who we would've been if it didn't happen. Today, I sit here and type one of my deepest darkest secrets knowing that I will be embraced by few and judged by many; still I open up to you...my audience. Collectively you are comprised of people who have walked in shoes worse than mine, equal to mine or better than mine, yet I feel that everyone can take something different from what I am about to share. You will come to realize that secrets from our past don't have to be the end of our futures. Life begins with love. You gotta love yourself before you can expect anyone else to love you. And if you don't love you, you are in for one hell of a ride. I'm just learning to love me, but it's never too late.


This is the story of why I live.


Life. Such a sensitive topic that time and time again has been approached as a glass half empty philosophy (or even half full for my optimists). I am what I like to call an optimistic pessimist. LOL Allow me to explain myself if you will. I was born a happy little girl. I prided myself on being that smart girl with straight As that you could always turn to when you didn't know the answer to a riddle...shit or even life. But my life is nothing like I imagined it would be or anything like it could have been. Life is all about how we choose to respond to things and not so much what happens to us.

Most of you that have been following me know that I started drinking at the young age of 10. How do you trace back a single event that would lead you down a road of unhappiness? I drank. I assumed that identity and I became that girl. It started slow and progressed into a serious problem for me. Iceland was great! But life after Jersey wasn't quite as pleasing to me.

At my worst, I was getting wasted before homeroom and again at lunch. It was all that I felt I could do to make the days go by. My parents were clueless. They didn't know I was a drunk and they don't know what I am about to reveal. By my sophomore year in high school I was drinking Everclear and just about anything I could get my hands on. I had earned the nickname Alkie (for obvious reasons). I was depressed. So depressed I actually thought I could drink my way out of it. I laugh at the thought now as I look back on where I once was mentally.

I remember days I would wake up crying because I didn't die in my sleep. Could you imagine being 16 and hating life so much that you not only cried yourself to sleep every night, but you also cried in the morning because you knew what the day would hold for you? The same agonizing torture day and night. A torture that I would've done anything to escape.

I wanted to KILL myself. I popped pills and eventually settled for cutting myself. Yes I was a cutter. For those of you that aren't familiar with cutting, it's actually a pretty common phenomenon among our young people. Many say its a cry for help. Its the coward's suicide attempt. Of course many people eventually graduate on to committing suicide, but most of us are lucky enough to get help. And although I would never advocate cutting, oh how I can remember how soothing it was to cut myself. How soothing it was to take the power into my own hands. How soothing it was to control the pain that was hurting me rather than to just sit back and do nothing.


I scarred my body. I mostly used an exact-o knife that my mom had for sewing. Its a long cylinder with a sharp razor at the top. I can remember running into my room and locking the door and rocking in my bed sliding that blade across my skin as tears streamed down my cheeks. I felt better by doing this. That was me wanting to be brave enough to press down hard; to cut the right way. It was my attempt to escape the urge to crash my car off a bridge or into oncoming traffic.

My thighs hid my pain...so much that I enlisted my hands to participate in my redemption. I distinctly remember the day I forgot my gloves and this girl from school saw the scars on my hands and threatened to report me if she saw it again. Was I scared straight?

To be honest I cannot remember. That was the year I got alcohol poisoning and my memory still has gaps in it. I just know that after the incident my junior year, I could no longer stomach any liquor. So I did the only thing I could; I quit. And the cutting...well I don't know how I moved past that but I did. And I never mentioned it again. Well...until my freshman year in college when I was assigned a group project on self-mutilation and decided that I wouldn't let my story go unheard. I googled self-mutilation and found so many people who were just like me. People who knew what it felt like to hurt and how it felt to take control of the pain. That year I stood in front of a room of college students and explained how I felt and what led me to thinking cutting was all that was out there for me. My teacher pulled me aside after class and with tears in her eyes she thanked me for sharing my story; she thanked me for having the courage to share those painful words.

When life throws us that almost fatal blow, we must have the strength and courage to pick up the pieces and move forward.

So why do I live you are probably still wondering? In the simplest of terms, I live because they didn't. I live for my family that got their lives taken away so early: my maternal grandmother, her youngest son, my mom's only nephew, and my cousin who was my best friend. I live for them because they can't live for themselves. I live for every person that has ever been victimized and made a full recovery. I live for every person that felt the way I did, but didn't get help; every suicide victim. Every life lost; everyone fighting in Iraq. They are fighting for me so I can't make it in vain. It's easy to choose death, but its hard to choose life.

I choose to live. I choose to put myself out there in hopes that someone feeling real down realizes I've been lower and managed to rebound successfully. We must face the past before we can move into the future. This is something that will not hold me back. This is something that happened and doesn't dictate my future, it just reminds me of the past.

So this is nothing more than my "buck twenty five" or $1.25 for those who still don't get it. I have too much to say for $.02. To inspire is one of the greatest gifts man can give to someone else. Imagine having the power to make someone feel invincible like they can take on the world.

I share my mistakes so you don't have to experience what I went through. My life is an open book; experience my story with me. This journey was intended for the both of us...and it all starts with love.

The Best That Ever Lived

They always said bad things came in twos.
So July 4th 2004 Mikey met his fate
And 8 months later to the day I lost you.
My life forever changed
3-4-5
Like hurricanes rain destruction
I rained agony & pain
So bad sometimes my heart stopped
Trying to figure out why you're no longer here
I point blame
Creating fictitious reasons to hate those close to you in your name
Constantly awakened abruptly from my sleep like it was just a dream
Tried to laugh away my sorrow
And thus the invention of what I called the suicidal gene
This urge that we feel is real
And life's this bitch that pierces your soul and cuts through your body like steel
And I know you were stronger than me
So the fact that you chose death over life
Is the kinda truth that kills
The kinda truth that finds me awake at 4 AM...writing if you will
An agony that leaves salt stains on my cheeks
And as I stand here in front of you
Listen to these words as I speak
Because they are more than just words
They are the collective collaboration of my sweat and tears coupled with grown woman fears and a life filled with pain
They are my story
It is my truth
It is the realization that how you live your life is completely up to you
It's knowing that in your darkest hour you have everything to gain and nothing left to lose
It is accepting that a bruise on your heart is nothing more than a bruise
And don't get it twisted

I write this for me not you
Because I see you in everything I do
Whether its hours of star gazing
Or searching for clouds that look like you
I see the truth and it hurts
A pain that I could never really describe with words
So I hide my tears and disguise how you see me
Riddling poetic words til all you see is this
My self proclaimed tribute to the best that ever lived

Who Will Remember You

My world spins like whirl winds
Wondering will I ever get any ends
And when the hell my happy ending begins

My tears bring rain
That floods what's left of my sanity
I wonder what could it be?
I stare at my reflection aimlessly
But the image I see staring back just isn't me
My fake hair, fake eyes & big tits
Are nothing like who I use to be
Yearning for the intellect I no longer see
Whispering similarly to he loves me he loves me not
Til the sun sets and I'm just as alone as I was on my born day
But today I learned to realize

Broken dreams & heartache turn
Week days into weak days
And the words I speak just don't seem to resonate like they used to
Loud words fall upon deaf ears
From boisterous lips
As I clumsily stumble upon the realization that life is as good as it gets
You see...when the air inside your lungs cease to exist
Death is all you're left with
And maybe everything you complained about isn't necessarily shit
From the job you didn't get
To the husband or wife & the 2.5 kids
And if that damn picket fence still wasn't all it was cracked up to be.

Like footprints in the sand
Your memory will one day fade

And without physical artifacts,

Who will remember you?

Who will remember your words?

Unheard by so many but imagine

You buried and gone, but we can still hear your dreams

Calling out from beyond our world

And no matter how scary or sweet death may seem

You'll be far from a distant memory

I accept in life, there are things that I sometimes forget

But you, I will always carry with me