There’s this space in my chest

that fills me. 

Existing heavily and thoroughly.

Maybe it’s the lack of sleep 

making me crazy. 

My body existing around the abyss,

paradoxically consumed by its essence.

Inside of me but not of me. 

Of me, but my dreams are not part of the recipe.

My dreams absorbed or worn like skin, but just the beginnings survive. 

The ends may yet live in the blackness or just beyond it.

Inside of my hollow chest is weighted nothingness. 

Or inside of the hollow nothingness, I exist? 

How can one know if in the abyss? 

I’ve never known how to point to something

that was formless. 

I cannot wait to breath, yet all I do is wait for the next inhale. 

I want silence, but everything screams it’s presence. 

I want love but would settle for contempt.

I want peace but would settle for adrenaline. 

I want meaning but would settle for the end of it. 

Spitting bars about the end of it.

Whispering I just want a friend in it.


Single Mom Pregnancy Woes

I am tired

of headaches,

of living between 

not being able to take a shit

and needing a bathroom right now! 

I’m tired of 4am wide awake

burping up last night’s dinner

while my baby does the best it can

to kick my pelvis outward.

Of backaches and nobody to press their hands

into my sore spots.

Of crying those gut wrenching cries

that sound like a soul is dying

at anything remotely sad.

I’m tired of the chaffing of my thighs

in my flowing dresses

and the way my waddle reminds

me of my growing ass…my double chin.

I’m tired of a man that says he will be there…

And isn’t.

The one that leaves every opportunity 

to be there,

in his place empty promises.

I am tired of being reminded

that every place I’ve gotten to

has been where my own feet have wandered.

That my choice in men is destructive,

guaranteeing my babies will only

ever have me without question.

Fearing the future 

before it is written 

simply because the past and present 

cannot be forgiven.

But mostly I’m tired of waiting

to hold my baby in my arms

And whisper in my little one’s ears,

“you were made with a piece of my heart

and my love you will never have to fear”.

Hello, My Name Is Tired Mom

Hello to the neighbor

who plays his music too loud.

I live above you,

my name is Tired Mom.

If it wasn’t for you,

I would be asleep by ten o’clock.

As luck would have it,

your music stayed on closer to half past

the moon’s descent and right before

the birds’ song.

Hello to the landscaper

who starts mowing my lawn

at the break of dawn.

My bedroom is the one

with the windows cracked open

in hopes of a slight breeze to bring me calm.

My name is Depressed Woman.

If it were up to me,

you wouldn’t be my alarm clock.

Hello to the woman screaming

at her grown daughter

in the building west of mine.

I shouldn’t be able to hear all that you say

with the volume of my tv turned up high.

My name is Desperate For Quiet.

I needed an afternoon nap,

but your argument keeps me staring at my walls.

Please do us all a favor

and shut the fuck up.