Preserve My Life In Shambles

Preserve My Life In Shambles

Art-‘Storm Sea with Blazing Wreck’-Joseph Mallard William Turner-1775-1851

Paranoia encapsulates the transient moments of silence.

My mind sanctions, but brief solace in tranquility || quickly conceding- just the calm before the storm.

I brace to defend, against the ruin of inevitably. Seeking shelter as my umbrella is fairly worn.

And on those bitter days, I feel my center take a lashing. My very core, exudes thick tumultuous concern.

Deceived again, by thoughts of peace || a des-per-ate delusion. Poetic reoccurrences, perhaps, I’ll never learn.

These are the days I cannot muster up a smile. The one I use to hide the darkened shadows of my soul.

My mask, it slips and falls to waste, cracking my foundation. Exposing all the fissures, where I once appeared as whole.

As the storm begins to settle, from downpour to light drizzle; I find that I remain, still drenched, immersed in burdens past.

Each time my mask repairs itself, more clearly artificial. Heavily encumbered- by the most mundane of tasks.

Even on the brightest days, my sunny disposition dwindles by comparison- obstructed by the fog.

My sodden outlook weighs me down, nadir, and even deeper. It takes a toll upon my soul. How can one remain?

The pain I bear, to pull each breath, my force begins to taper. Each particle of energy is vital to sustain.

Life is a quicksand. Eager and insatiable. Swallowing my essence, and feasting on my drive.

I fight the siren’s voice, inside the void, as it sings “KEEP HER” then madly, deeply I descend, despite the will-to stay alive.

Expending every piece of me, the chaos of emotion. Actions meant to circumvent, my absolute demise.

Instead of course ironically, set paradox in motion. Masticated motive, yet, this feels a bit contrived.

In pursuit to find, a different ending to the story, one must remember the mistakes from lives of past.

Each effort with intent to save, the life unknown-I wanted. Without exception, drew me closer to the end.

My spirits ruptured, there’s a clear appending pressure. Buried alive by life itself, neglected of its pleasure.

My oxygen depletes, chest heaves, the life I knew is over. I inhale deep, afeared, unsure which breaths’ my last.

Ending in an aching plea, for life || preserved in shambles. Unburdened, by the damage from the tragic storms of past.

Pieces of Me

Pieces of Me

I always thought, being alone was my choice. That I didn’t want or need anyone, to know who I am.

I am realizing, the opposite is true. I am a hyper-sensitive creature. My love and loyalty, knows no bounds, and I crave reciprocation.

Only with time, consistency, and comfort, does my shield begin to dissipate. When my walls come crashing down, I catch feelings quickly, and lose them even quicker.

I am extremely selective, with whom I allow access to my being. To hear me paint a picture of my mind, body, and soul.

So when I give pieces of myself; feelings, hopes, and fears to another; Whether it be, friend, family, or lover, that very act of speaking, becomes the epitome of intimacy.

With my essence lain bare, vulnerable to influence and pain, susceptible to damage;

To allow me to feel both understood and rejected, seen and dismissed; is the ultimate form of punishment and violence.

So rather than open myself up, to voluntarily receive emotional lashings. I continue to walk my path alone.


Reality and Cloaks

Reality and Cloaks

Art By Austin Howlett

Shadows from within me,
engulf my public persona in a blanket of darkness.

The anger and fear from deep inside corrode and rust my cloak, destroying the very thing I use, to hide my melancholy madness,

The only calm I feel is sadness. Transitory intervals of change; a relief from the hatred that causes me rage.

My volatile impulses
attempt self-sabotage at,
nearly every turn.

I love the chance to dream.
To sleep is to transform,
into a creature of survival.

To create pure feelings or moments of relief,
I numb my sensitivities to the pain of life.
When I inhale, my mask falls.

I feel remorse for my lack of involvement in human emotion
and pretend to snuff out my comforting vice of denial.

My responsible escapade ends quickly,
I create the illusion that I am strong enough to face reality, opening a floodgate of feelings.

Feelings of anger, resentment, fear, and insecurity take me over;
The deafening screams of my inner pain immerse me in my entirety.

I become stuck in a pattern of reality and cloaks.
The cloak itself becomes painfully intense, to the point of needing to be masked itself.

My façade and truth split me in half, with even smaller sub-divisions.

I fast from life.
Engaging in emotional starvation.
The alternative is chaos.

A magnetic fury of PARANOIA and RAGE.


Shut Up When You’re Talking To ME!

I am highly conscious of human beings’ body language, and facial expressions; and have been from an early age. I observe; I always have. I have learned that most people would most definitely rather talk about themselves than listen to you or me.

So, I learned that if I wanted to be part of the conversation, I had to steer the conversation toward whomever I wished to speak to. Now, I can keep someone fully engaged in an interview for hours, answering questions about themselves. As soon as the topic veers away from whomever, I can re-direct it back to them and engage them once more. In five minutes, I can meet a stranger and walk away, knowing their entire life story.

I am fond of quick and friendly banter, but I refused to engage in small talk. If you are going to talk to me, you must tell me something that matters. I have spent the last twenty years only speaking if spoken to unless I have something to say. Now, I expect the same from anyone who wishes their words to fall upon my ears. Give me wisdom for my collection, a piece of you worth carrying.

“Wise men speak because they have something to say; fools because they have to say something.”


Survival of the Whitest

In 2017, there were 325.7 million people in America, and of those people, 39.7 million Americans lived in poverty. That is approximately 1 in 7 people living in poverty. Almost 8% of the people experiencing poverty were white; that is 2 out of every 25 people, leading one to presume that 23 out of 25 people were people of color. 

Herbert Spencer (English philosopher, biologist, anthropologist, sociologist, and liberal political theorist) coined the phrase “survival of the fittest.” Spencer believed this to be Social Darwinism, i.e., society’s way of eliminating the weak and preventing those with defective genes from reproducing or thriving in our capitalist society.

In reality, a combination of the following theories; Structural Discrimination TheoryBias TheoriesFunctionalism, and Conflict Theory represent modern American society. The theories above explain deviance, poverty, and criminogenic among the ethnically challenged; each theory may also apply to gender and sexuality.

We know both nurture and nature influence aspects of personality. Therefore, one must agree with the “Biological Deficiency Theory” and the cultural deficiency aspect of the philosophy. When one grows up observing a specific type of behavior from their parents, neighbors, and friends, the chances are higher that they will subconsciously embed those behaviors as “the norm” and adopt them into practice. Even if one’s actions are adaptational to promote survival, there is still a high probability that one’s offspring will mimic those behaviors, thus perpetuating a cycle of non-social/deviant behavior and the adverse reaction accompanying such behavior. 

“The Bias Theories” explain prejudiced attitudes reasoning behind the continuously held bias toward minorities. There may be a simple solution to the structural inequalities or systemic racism that many minorities face. However, the first step would be an acknowledgment on a massive scale. Many people experience discrimination daily and sometimes without realization. It is easy to forget that others may judge prior to personal knowledge, expecting others to fit into a box structured by implicit bias. One may excuse negative behaviors from a person as a personality issue rather than a side-effect of their discriminatory beliefs. Also, people fail to recognize their aptitude for bias.

The most significant theoretical value lies in the “Structural Discrimination Theory.” “Slavery is over; stop holding a grudge?” Many have heard this line of thinking, especially during discussions on stratification. Had slavery never existed, black people would be on an even keel regarding institutionalized racism. The social setback occurs at the moment of conception and continues into adulthood.

Everything is connected; for example, if one’s parents are lower-class ethnic people that did not graduate high school. Then most likely, they have jobs that pay minimum wage, with little to no benefits. The lack of insurance may have prevented access to birth control, leading to pregnancy. One without insurance seeking treatment finds lower care standards; in hospitals and centers that do not require insurance prior to treatment. Having a child without insurance will likely place a person in debt. If one’s parents live in debt, they may resort to residing in low-income apartments to save money and provide food. Low-income residences often have schools that cannot afford to pay teachers who genuinely want to teach or have access to the proper educational tools, leading to a lackadaisical group of teachers and less opportunity to give students an equal education.

Those without proper education generally also have issues with “socialization.” Society views those deemed unsocialized as deviant. When one faces treatment of those who are deviant, it creates a belief, which creates a stigma, which leads to actual deviance and potentially criminogenic thinking and behavior. Criminogenic behavior by people of color “supports” the discriminatory ideologies of the uneducated. At no fault of their own, a child born may face mitigating circumstances that inevitably create an environment that sustains and perpetuates cycle discrimination.


American society operates with a “point system.” Class, Gender, Race, and Education are the qualifiers. The preferred gender is male, and the superior race is white, and if one does not begin with those qualifiers, they automatically have two fewer points than those who do. An educated and wealthy ethnic male can never be as powerful as a lower-class, white male. However, a wealthy, educated, ethnic male is on equal footing as an uneducated, lower-class educated white woman. An educated and wealthy ethnic female can only ever be as successful as an uneducated but wealthy man of color, or a lower class, uneducated, white woman.

Sexual orientation causes a fair amount of discrimination as well. However, it is unlikely to see equality in race, class, and sexual orientation prior to gender equality.

In conclusion, if one wishes to be among the most powerful in America, it is simple, all they must do is be a rich white, educated male, or accept that it will take them ten times as much effort to be equal to an uneducated, lower-class male born into the superior race.



May 12th, 2019

I do not even know where to start today but to make a long story even longer.

On 4/12/19, I randomly ordered a 23and Me test to finally learn my ethnicity. I had little hope of learning much else, but to say the least, I was very wrong.

On 5/5/19, I received my reports from the lab. I happen to have a First cousin once removed that I connected with on the account, which was clearly from my unknown side of the family, and my research began.

On 5/8/19, I reached out to my little cousin T.S., specifically the estranged child of my mother’s adopted brother. I had not spoken to her since I lived in Topeka, Kansas, almost a decade prior. Her father (my uncle) told me once that he knew who my biological father was and would tell me someday.

However, he forbade me from mentioning it to my mother and threatened that he would never tell me what I wanted to know if I did. Of course, I was curious, and also, I was 18 years old and had just been told, by a man I hated, that my mother had been lying to me my entire life.

So, I, of course, approached my mother with the subject. The conversation caused distress and taught me nothing. I explained this to my little cousin, and she reached out to her father, even though their relationship was on rocky terms.

My uncle called me and told me every sweet thing a grieving and hopeful niece needs to hear and then spit out two names, brother’s nonetheless, and told me he was sure one of them was my father.

I tracked them down by name and found they had one mutual family member who utilizes social media. Neither of them did, which led me down a path of unfriendly assumptions. This joint family member was identified as their aunt through posts. This aunt of theirs happened to have a mutual friend with me, so I reached out to my friend, and he was all too excited to get involved and help me track down this enigma that is my father.

However, I figured it was a long shot; either my mother knew and lied to me for 22 years, allowing me to believe I was conceived by force, or my felonious uncle was sending me on a wild goose chase. I chose not to get my hopes up.