Haunted Numbers

In the dark

Under the bed

It’s there


I know it’s there

And it knows all my fears

When I turn out the lights it taunts me

Haunts me

Teases me

Softly calling my name

What am I so afraid of?

I ignore it

But it can’t be ignored

I pretend it isn’t there

But it’s always there

I am shackled

A prisoner with no escape

During the day I think I am free

I can even forget

For a while…

But it will still be there

It’s always been there

Since I was too young



Because it knows I’ll come back

I always come back

I am afraid without it


I need it

I long for it

To be reunited and reassured

I will gaze trustingly into its unblinking eyes




Those neon blue eyes changing to numbers

Telling me how good I am

I will bask in its praise

I crave it

But it will not come

My hope is empty

Instead I am mocked

Not good enough

Would could love me?

Who could love this?

No one

But it will always be there



Whenever I need it

When I am weak

It will show me the truth

And I will remain shackled

The scale never lies.



Day 1, Day 1 again, this is the last Day 1

How many failures

How many new beginnings

Today is the day

Today will be different

This time

Maybe tomorrow

Next week

On Monday


Measurements, photos, weigh-ins

Promises, plans, intentions


Doubts and why bothers

Anxieties and depressions

Give ins and give ups


It’s for my health


It’s to improve my energy

Sure it is


It’s for looks

It always has been


Too fat

Not thin enough

No muscle definition

Too short

Too weak

Not good enough

Never will be







Society says one thing

The mirror says the same

Your clothes scream it at you

And eventually you believe


Impossible standards

Impossible expectations

Impossible to ignore

Impossible to succeed

Impossible not to fail


Beaten bruised belittled and abused

Left confused and used

While I plead you stand accused

I can’t proceed while you mislead

Oblivious to your misdeeds

There is no blood but I still bleed

In a flash I’m in a flood

I cannot see

I cannot breathe

I cannot swim in this sea

If it were up to you I would not be me

If only I knew how things could go so askew

Hid from view

Planning a coup

It’s time to bid adieu

This is not

The paradigm

I will not take the fall for this crime.

They break but my bones aren’t broken

I’m soft-spoken but stakes are high

This war cry is not just a token

Vilified, villain-ized, rectified and purified

From a chrysalis I am a butterfly

Reborn, no time to mourn,

this weight was too heavy to be borne

A levy and a thorn

I can let go of the hate

Not a victim of fate

I don’t wait, I walk straight on the road I create

I am owed but I am bleary, teary but thinking clearly

I have a theory

When I stand tall it will sink in and sync up

I’ve been on the brink, I’ve seen it all

I did not cower and fall when backed up against the wall

Smacked, cracked and black and blue

What to do, break through, I’m over you, fuck you

I am awake

No more heartaches and mistakes

I’m at the ground floor, out the front door

This is post-war underscored

What I’m renowned for



This poem was inspired after I watched this amazing Vox video. I just wanted to see if I could do it.

Possibilities & Blank Canvases

I am from pixie dust, fairy-tales, and Neverland

I am from princesses, wizards, and blanket forts

I am from make believe and talking plush animals

I am from Jillian Jiggs and Roald Dahl

I am from “What ifs…” “We coulds…” and “Maybes…”

I am from possibilities and blank canvases

I am from art classes, piano lessons, choir, and drama

I am from first solos and the lead in the play

But I am also from high expectations

I am from academics, good grades, and A+’s

I am from a society saying “You can be anything you want to be…

… As long as it fits this mould we have created for you.”

I am from conformity

I am from judgment and self-consciousness

I am from stage-fright and shyness

I am from forgotten lyrics and dust-covered piano keys

I am from dried acrylics and hardened paint brushes

I am from half-filled sketchbooks and unfinished crafts

I am from garage sales and dreams sold for pocket change

I am from “go to university and get a real job”

I am from 9 to 5

I am from incandescent lighting and cubicle walls

I am from six-figure hopefuls and dead-end jobbers

I am from oversized houses and overpriced cars

I am from mid-life crisis and anti-depressants

I am from forgotten dreams and lost childhoods

I am from “If onlys…” “I could haves…” and “Maybe nots…”

But I am also from possibilities and blank canvases

Yellow Brick Road

A road that once sparkled and glittered like the sun

Made of precious metals and memories

Bricks that formed the foundation of our marriage

But lights dim

And metals lose their value

What was once priceless is thrown in the scrap heap

Gold is too soft

Even clay and mortar crumble

Corners of yellow-edged memories curl and fade

Leaving sepia-toned bricks built of moments made meaningless

When did color change to black and white?

Threatening skies and tumultuous tornadoes of animosity

Our house lifted, turned, tilted and dropped in this foreign land

How many people were crushed under the weight of our broken house?

How many people telling us what to do and what road to follow?

I am alone

Trying to find my way home

Lost and confused

Experience creates knowledge

But I don’t know what to do

Except whatever it takes to avoid being burned again

I know I have a heart because it is broken

But after having my chest torn open

I am left empty and hollow

Forgotten and rusting in the rain

Scared of the future

Lacking the courage to go on

Not courage but the confidence to use it

But there’s hope over the horizon

At the end of the rainbow there is a beginning

These shoes only lead forward

Who knows what’s waiting behind the curtain

Aspen Summer

Sunlight flickered through the aspen leaves overhead

Casting ever-changing shadows of lace on her skin


In a soft yellow dress

She strummed six strings

That summer the outdoors was our school

The forest our classroom

The trees our teachers

And her

My education

Sunlight caresses a forgotten window

Casting dust-filled beams on a weathered table

A quiet room

With a view of a quiet forest.