Words from an Insomniac still trying to find her way

Sometimes my mom Loves Me


That you are glamour, luscious,



When it’s all about ignoring.

Do you need to pull my hair?


I threw away your make up,

While you shouted insults


Threatening love so I punched the walls

The labor of attention.

You screamed in disbelief


I go to bed waiting,

Till pillow suffocates

The noises protruding from your bedroom


Take me farther than you’ll ever go.

Feeling much better now, drowning down; slowly.


I still think of the nice way,

That you learned to throw blows,


Imagine my fists against your blush stained cheek

And in your waking sweat,

Frailty is your only dream.


So many memories to choose

I still think birth should be a choice

From the inside.


How will we ever manage?


I’ll hand you the rope.


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