How to Grow Up In an Awesome Family

If comfort had a face,
she’d look just like mom; round cheeks
and a smile to calm rabid beasts.
Her hands are sculptors
whom the worst days can’t escape from-
she makes storm clouds more beautiful than sunshine.

The only security blanket I ever had was my father.
Every child needs a blanket to hold them
upside down by the ankles, shake off the bitterness
of bad dreams, and set them safely down.

I pity every only-child.
Imaginary friends
cheat at The Floor is Lava,
and no one shares or cares like my brothers can.
Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum:
metaphors for the siblings Alice wishes she had-
it’s a shame her imagination was too weak
to conjure ones so good as mine instead.

A terrifying sense of kindness
runs in our veins- an angry rhinoceros on steroids,
hellbent on making you smile
at the sacrifice of it’s own dignity.
It spawns funky ninjas to thwart tears and
gives away Christmas months in advance
to see the look on your face
when you realize that you are loved.

Family means forever.


How to spend a weekend apart from your significant other:

They say that absence
makes the heart grow
fonder. Well, I have to disagree.
I miss you, yes; but I don’t love you
any more than before.

Don’t speed-
I’ll have you here safe over fast any day.

Yes, this is actually a happy poem.

I drank a nightmare-
left my stomach
knotted with a cupboard love
for your face.

“Seeing is believing,” said the bone box;
but I’m bellows to mend
each time you pocket
my insecurities.


In other news, I woke up exceedingly happy from some very comfy sleeps. Now breakfast, then a nap until I need to get ready for work.

The D and I have been doing a lot of talking recently. The hardcore kind of talking. The sort of talking during which ambitions are discussed and decisions are made.

I am applying for an open position at work (a higher paying one on my same shift, in my same department, with loads more responsibility). After discussing the option and the desire to do so, I feel incredibly secure in the decision, and optimistic that I have a really good chance of getting it. I find it amazing to feel so supported and encouraged by someone who is not directly related to me.

No offense Mom, Dad, Brothers- it just feels damn good to have someone on the outside recognize that I’m capable of better things, too.

On Lent: Finding non-sexual ways to spend time together.

Couples’ puzzle-piece tattoos
were so cute
until I realized that the pieces
didn’t belong together.
Why be part of a puzzle
where you and I link together
opposite borders?

I just tend to over-think these things.
It’s a shitty metaphor.

Who needs metaphors, anyway,
when they're suddenly graced
with an overabundance
of sleep, or drowned out
by lazy Sans Serif?

It’s crazy
how crazy I felt
when everything stopped

It takes the deepest love-
I wound my fingers through your hair,
and wove in our most favorite daydreams.

You smiled, and said that French braids match your beard.



On a side note- My boyfriend has longer hair than me. I’ve found myself playing with his hair more than usual over this past few days. I think he likes it, or at least, he doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by it. 

Blogging Challenge, Courtesy of OM. “Her Smile”


Here, I’m doing part of a challenge from OM’s blog. You can find it here, if you’d like to give it a go: Also, feel free to read the rest of his blog, as it’s pretty damn good. You won’t be disappointed, though you might possibly be offended at some point. Suck it up.

” 1. Write a love poem and stop in the middle. Change the mood of the poem and see how it ends.

He reaches
toward those young, wild cheeks
gasping for breath
beneath storm clouds;
toward full lips and eyes
that look into some other place-
some place darker, brighter, more alive.

He reaches toward her-
her hand quivers in the wind, limp
nearly severed by mangled steel.

He reaches toward her soul
through the shredded cage;
shards imbedded in the frame.
She smiles,
endorphins and sirens sing
angry lullabies and she knows.

Soon, child.

Let the Shenanigans Commence!


Everyone has that one best friend that they can 100% be themselves with, no matter how goofy, bitchy, reserved, outgoing, and such. They are the other half, and together you two become one of those ultimate duos. Mine is coming to kidnap me shortly. There will be a metric shit-ton of fun. There may or may not be pictures and stories when I return. Anyway, in honor of my deep affection and endearment towards the best friend I’ve ever had, and possibly will ever have in this world (she’s set the bar rather high), this is a poem to Sara, pictured above. I have the best friend in the world. You ain’t got no friend like mine.

Let the Shenanigans Commence!

Macaroni to my cheese,
Silent Bob to my Jay,
glad you’ve been by my side
even when you’re hours away.

We’ve always stuck together
through the laughs and the tears
and ridiculous shenanigans
year after year.

Remember all those times
we cried on each others’ shoulders,
whether the problems were just pebbles
or giant-ass boulders?

Remember drawing hats
On handicapped-sign men?
but still; look how far we’ve come since then.

Remember the tumbles and faceplants,
soaking in creekbeds
and arguing over stupid shit
when we both had asses for heads.

I’ll cherish these memories, and many more
until I die.
Because friends light up the loneliest moments;
friends like you and I.

Tell me about your best friend.