Chronically Healing Through Writing

Thoughts of the end -so through a pen I share rawfully honest thoughts. Thoughts about my relationship with chronic pain. Thoughts about the fantasies of romantic love , and the agony when this illusion disappears. The goal is to learn from my own journey through words.

Month: November, 2014

Gas and Butterflies


Indigestion was mistaken for butterflies
Ingested the words of the moment
The temporary uneasy
Yet exciting unfamiliar queasy
That began to tickle my insides after hearing those words I longed for
“I miss you and you are the one I adore
Let’s pick up where we left off”
Vision appeared sharp
when the lights flickered off
The words were sealed with a righteous kiss
Trickled down my spine
Shocked my core and sent me to the abyss
Electricity and chemistry recharged my senses
Yet now that I’m losing my gut 
Through burned calories in lust
I realized I was indeed losing my gut. 
I mistook gas for butterflies
Choosing false comfort in lies
Moans, heavy breathing, and the rapid beating of my heart grew louder Silencing the growls 
Butterflies I felt with each word
And each kiss numbed the gut feeling
That his words will not last the morning after.
It was only indigestion after all

False Comfort


False comfort is loving someone who doesn’t love you
Missing someone who doesn’t think of you
Yearning for the affection of someone who doesn’t take the time to wish you well
Telling yourself one’s busy schedule was the reason for infrequent communication.
A bad connection was the reason for dropped calls.
Life’s obstacles were the reasons for consistent M.I.A’s
One’s fear of rejection was the reason for ‘I love you’ never being said first
Defense Mechanisms was reason to avoiding commitment
Imaginary wall was put in place to present unbreakable
If loving is equal to feeling alive in uncertainties
I then welcome death than
Live in the love full of false comfort.
I would rather live in solitude  than care more for one who could care less
Don’t spoon if you don’t mean it.

Dirty words

I fucked you with my poetry
I swallowed the semen of rhyme
I stroked your tool with a pen
Climaxing line after line

A Casual Epidemic


I am someone who believes in the laws of the universe. I believe we attract who we are, what we repel, and what we fear.
We attract what’s in the subconscious, although consciously we are telling the world we want the opposite.

Preface to the story behind my taste in men
The question I ask myself after letting him in
Entering the floodgates of my heart shaped box
My loneliness quickly welcomed
Without hearing a knock
On my door a sign reads – keep out
Inside yearning I want him inside
Without any room for doubt
Or uncertainty that pleasure will remain
This empty vessel danced on his
Song ends – and I never got the name
Empty is the bed yet again
Strangers come and go
Familiar is the end.

Broken Vagina


Now I understand what K. Michelle meant when she said her vagina stopped working. When your mind, heart, and body are not aligned- things malfunction.

It happens after heartache. With age and maturity you realize rebound sex is not the antidote. It’s just not fun anymore. The temporary high gives a different type of low.

So reality kicks in; I know I’m on my own for a while. I have to get back into the habit of taking care of myself.

This is usually the fun part, but something strange happened.
No juice!!! I gave myself a pep talk and  thought maybe it’s because I’m depressed.

So I talked to her, and told her everything is going to be alright. He is gone, and we must learn to adjust to changes no matter how unpleasant.

I thought we were on the same page so I proceeded to put a flick on. That usually helps matters when things are slow to flow. Well, No bueno!
Dryer than sand paper! After several attempts… Bullet, Mr. Happy, and my fingers could not get anything flowing. I now empathize with how a man feels after a dry hand job.

A good deal of time has passed and nothing flows the same anymore. It’s one thing to not work for someone else, but not me!!

This isn’t something a visit to the ob gyn can fix.
Heartache and disappointment has interfered with the mechanics of my vagina. I didn’t know he had that much power. Or maybe I am just that done.


Beyond the word of love…??


I dream these feelings up and give them pretty words
I say things that appear meaningful
Like love is a verb
Yet love is indeed a word
He was just a man, I fixated on at a time.
Giving words human traits and making them all mine
Giving organs verbal traits until all is intertwined
My heart says, my head says, my eyes continously wonder
All things that transpired when I am in the illusion under.
Is it is words, actions, or plain imagery
Well I call this poetry
Giving love a life to it’s entirety.
Unknowingly knowing how uncertain
Love can be
Are my thoughts lying to me
Should I continue to fantasize dramatize, and romanticize
A word that stems from where
Can someone tell me
Was it pulled from the air
Like air I breath or  breath on skin
My eyes don’t see air
I see the sky that love swallowed me in


Silence in Word


My thoughts grow louder than the words

Louder than the words I cannot speak

Over thinking, reminiscing, and over thinking again

If only I moved right instead of left-

My choices would have been right

So again silence screams into my head

My mouth is moving, and as I look around

I am talking to myself- no words

Just the movement of a mouth that whimpers

I am the only one who truly understands what it is like

To be in my own thoughts

To be regretful for the choices that has brought me here

Alone again



So what I never become full on what I eat

I think love is the food that nurtures

It does not mean I was never complete

His servings curved the craving for spills and pills

At my fullest I felt empty

Yet he brought me to a place where my soul just filled

Is it wrong that life was a shade brighter

As his hugs grew tighter?

I ask- define the meaning of joy

The body thrives on love

Touch is meant to heal not destroy

No Me Without You

stolen heart

What say you?

What say I?

As you never uttered the words goodbye

You blew harshly away like the wind that cuts

My face is red and fingertips burnt from many butts

Chain smoking and binging on the new reality

That alone is the new mentality

I must become accustomed to

On my knees praying never to see the sky as blue

There is no me; there is no me…

There is no me…Without you

All I secretly wanted was to be great

You were someone who could truly relate

To all my wants and needs

It was you who bandaged the bleed

With your optimism and zest for life

Death was no longer welcomed by the knife

I planned to see in my chest

If alone was where I continued to rest

Instead the knife entered my back

Thus returning back to black


If I gave him anymore space, I would’ve been outer space.  Men and women are truly on different planets!