Dear Unborn Child 

I might be unable to conceive. Stupid girl, lying and joking about it. 

It’s a curious feeling; I never thought I wanted children, too much trouble I thought. 

But I every now and then, my female instincts would take over, and I would find comfort in future moments when I would have a baby girl to call my own. I would kiss her hands every day and I would tell her I love her, so much until she got sick of me. I feel like once again I’m grieving the death of someone I haven’t even met, yet loved unconditionally. 

As though I would like to apologize to that unborn child to which I never even gave the opportunity of life. 

Like I want to tell her, losing her before I even got to hold her kills me. 

Like I lost a purpose, I didn’t even know I had. 

Dear unborn child, 

I think I’ll love you forever, more so every day that passes me by and ages me cruelly. While you remain honest, pure, and intact.  
We are all born mothers. 

And I will always be yours no matter what. 


in a naive torture

of a mind’s eternal rupture

in dreams I capture

myself’s lying sculpture.

deep are the waters of redemption

of the things I thought I should not mention.

wishes that are the emancipation of hope,

things one should know how to cope.

a blue ressurection 

of a soul’s reincarnation.

dissolve into last breaths of past iconic symbols. 

oh, but where has the humanity gone?

put the gun away , beautiful son. 


In a hypocritical essence
Of a momentous glory past,
Tears of gold fall like
Warm precipitation from the eyes of children,
Whose hope was ripped from their hands
Like an adept infatuation
Of a soulful decapitation
The emasculation of humanity,
Spiders crawling under thin skin,
Represented by the most mischievous of grins.
We’ve only known of words,
That are tied together like strings,
Knee shaking fear of what the future brings
The continuity of life forsakes us
As society slowly breaks us.
With a gun to our heads,
We smile, as though we’re calm,
Lying in our beds
Waiting for a peaceful sleep to come,
As though that’s the only thing that will give us stamina to run.
I’ve grown past the point of teaching people to wake up,
Intoxicated slumber is the only thing that shakes them up.
Toxic beliefs infest the human brain,
Why won’t anyone comprehend,
It’s all a game of tame.
Swallow pills like candy flossed dreams,
In hopeful blindsight that everything is, and will be,
As it all seems.
If an embrace could cure cancer then everyone would love,
But as our soul slowly festers and rots,
Humanity appears to be long gone and lost.
So don’t wake up and refuse to dream,
It’s now become your one true right,
To forsake the human team.
So sleep tight naive children and keep your Soul shut,
And hopefully the tears of gold will drown you,
With eyes closed and arms open.
And just maybe then, we’ll all make the cut.



it’s lonely to be alive
Souls trapped in skinned vessels.
caged away in bitter mortality taught to calculate,
so they can count backwards the breaths.
until the liberating hiss of destination.
it is not a light.
it’s dark, wet, and scary
a recreation of nightmarish fever dreams.
when the sun is orange coated and melancholic
as the day deems its’ own end
in my young and foolish ways, i was lead to believe
a man falls as the night swallows the sun
but there is no beauty in passing
all of creation does not salute
does not bow down in an honorable embrace
life ends in darkness and deformity,
a degradation of sanity.
it’s brutal like self afflicted mutilation.
when Soul and mind where condemned in a flesh bound prison,
they were meant to experience pain and decay,
they should roughen the mortal embrace.
the Soul tries to peak through the scratches,
trying to escape a world of acute emasculation.
the rougher the edges,
the more Soul will peak through.
until one day satisfied,
though still with much more pain
the Soul rips its’ cage apart
and is free to run wild
amongst the gods
or anything that evokes significance.
but i would not know,
i fear my skin is too thick,
and my soul is too weak.