Fat Bottom Girl Said What

When my ass talks, people listen.

Gone Astray

I close my eyes

and try to recall what happy felt like

and wonder where it went

it’s lost

amid the noise of the world

and other people’s opinion of my worth

and bad hair days

and tight pants

and the sound of the neighbor’s leaf blower

and rantings of fear and hate on social media

and all I want

is the serenity of nature

and sun in my face

and sand between my toes

and the pop and crack of a bonfire

with the lull of waves lapping at the shore





Hunter of Hearts



You do this to my heart

though not as beautiful

not nearly as beautiful

because you rip it open

jagged edges

rivers of blood flowing

no kind words from your lips

to stanch the bleeding

only more


of your bowie knife

until you stand victorious

my last pulse of life

throbbing in your hand

arm outstretched over your head

ever the hunter

and me lying


merely another trophy

to be mounted

above your bar


Iced Confections

I imagine. . .

that some day

someone will start a fire in my heart again

it will be like the hearth in an igloo

warming me from the inside

while I remain outwardly icy

He will chip away

at my frozen exterior

saving the shavings in a paper cone

for one day when we will drizzle sugared syrup over it

and celebrate the melting

of me, the polar ice cap



Photo Credit: FreeDOOm deviant art


The disappointment of it

settles into my bones

a familiar ache

which leaves my heart

barely beating

loath to continue it’s syncopated dance

to the melody of hope

which is now silenced

How quickly and cruelly

some things are taken from us

Knowledge forced

though not desired

I now see the illusionist’s trick

Self deception




Blogging For Books

I was remiss in posting the following book review when I read this over two years ago, which means I can’t get more free books to review until I do, and since I’m a book whore, I am going to remedy this right now!  So here it is, my review of “Mother, Mother” by Koren Zailckas.

** spoiler alert ** I was given this book on Edelweiss in exchange for an honest review. This contains spoilers!

Holy gaslighting Batman!! Didn’t take me long to figure out mother, mother, is crazy, crazy, in the form of narcissistic personality disorder. When you’ve had any type of relationship with a person who has NPD, as the author clearly states she has in her end notes, the signs are unmistakable.

NPD was the hook to keep me reading to find out what sort of sick, twisted crap Josephine would rain upon her family. And rain it did–bathing her 12 year old son, and brushing and flossing his teeth, and laying out his clothes, to having him diagnosed as autistic and with a seizure disorder to make herself look like a self-sacrificing mother; the “poor me” of doing everything for Rose, and her supposedly running away to be with her boyfriend Damien; Violet being the perfect scapegoat for all of Josephine’s troubles with her drug-induced erratic behavior and inability to conform to Josephine’s view of the ideal family.

I thoroughly enjoyed this book, and if my life would’ve allowed, I could’ve sat and read it cover to cover, just to find out if Josephine would get hers in the end. I like the way the story was told, from two very different points of view, switching between each for each chapter. Just the right length, with just enough information to give you clues and keep you guessing, this is a must read!



Seek and find me

amongst the noise, the chaos of my mind

Pathways of neurons,

littered with broken promises

Synapses firing,

on cruel words and fear of the unknown

Bring me your solitude,

overflowing the rim of a silver chalice,

to hold to my lips,

chapped by too many apologies,

uttered for being me

Lay your hand,

of kindness on my forehead,

feverish with desire of acceptance

and whisper,

a mantra of devotion in my ear

Empty – adj, verb, noun




the emptiness

(I am an empty vessel)

is acute first thing in the morning

when all I wanted was for it

(the cavern of my heart)

to be filled by dreams in the night

(snapshots of what your love might feel like)

but my mind only knows

(harsh words and lies)

and can’t begin to conceive

(trust, respect, devotion)

and fear I am best left to

become a husk








It was the smell of old beer exhaled from lungs passing across a dip of Skoal that brought it all back. . .

hands tightening around my throat

threatening to stop the flow of precious air

knowing that he thought so little of me

that he didn’t care whether I lived or died

and that if he killed me he would feel no remorse

because he would believe

until his last breath

permeated with the smell of Bud Light and chew

that I deserved it


I, Anomaly

I pull you towards me

while simultaneously

pushing you away

because I know nothing

of Newton’s laws

or the laws of love

and my heart is a

complicated equation

not even Will Hunting can make sense of

a mathematical matrix

of which

the product of all my exponential experiences

is just unequivocally me

a chemistry experiment

of atoms

and salts

and reactions even I can’t predict

gone haywire

yet living as

the most perfect ball of energy






my heart has been replaced

by a large stone

which sits heavy in my chest

pumping only doubt and denial



steeling my being

against the inevitable moment

when you decide

I’m not worth it



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