I Don't Recommend Creating an Entire World

I can make a cage beautiful.

Childhood disorientation in Cajun Country, Louisiana late 90s isolated Family Trauma I struggled to understand what was happening around me so I created imaginary worlds: paracosms, something I could understand, somewhere beautiful and just for me to organize and create rules and guidelines which brought other children to me through creating myself as strange and shocking in the conservative Southeast.

Ability to turn inward from the external chaos, a choice to live in stories live in imagination so the dive into storytelling was natural. I created imaginary worlds with these complex narratives and characters and creatures and whole generations of royalty and history that went back hundreds of years. Saturday nights were for staying up late drawing maps of the kingdom and creating poetry of their hero’s tale. There were wars to mediate and rally my classmates to join. I created special devices that were handheld and carried creatures from class to class tucked under my arm and more and more to create and expanding this world of endless possibility. Other children were drawn in by the bizarre and the ones that were repelled, I never liked them anyway. There was a rush, a power in the polarization I manifested.

As an adult I thought, well, who do want to be? I want to be a witch. I want to be a poet. I want to be this weird, ethereal thing that lives in this strange, fantasy aquarium, a fairy terrarium. Almost a thing of myth, a semi secret character who is shut off from everything and you can look in this regular, inconspicuous home and see this strange little world that just takes your breath away that is decorated with moss and lavender, ivy and animal skulls adorned with black roses it’s like a secret discovery I’m always looking into a weird little world of sorts, usually hidden in plain sight if you just know where to look in the palm of my hand and not only am I gazing into and feeling pulled in deeper especially to care for this world and these creatures, their pure survival dependent on me.

But the truth is I have placed myself into that world so not only am I looking into it, holding it in my hands but I am physically trapped in that world too which was created to understand something, anything in the chaos to feel a shard of agency it is Mine created in beauty and wonder, created in a last ditch effort for salvation. This I can choose to share or define there is a clear idea of my role and my expectations, I am needed and important. And yet it is simple that as I stare as a zombie into this small treasure, eyes in a mirror stare blankly back into me. For I created myself in my perfect image, in my perfect imagination. For I am trapped here as well, trapped into my own perfect creation.

I can make a cage beautiful.

Fall 2019

I Need to Quit Regurgitating Goddesses

Last night something was emerging
From the belly from the depths
Fear was a stabbing pain
Between brows it was Time
Sweaty and retching
There was nothing I could do

Out emerged a sack a pod
Slick with green bile or algae
Hot from the deep shine like a
Clear water balloon

And then she took my breath away
& My eyes full of radiant gold
& She began to glow and shine

Fins wave rhythmically illuminating
Gold and Hot her atmosphere
Holds countless microscopic shrimp
Surround her in formation- orbit as stars
Satsuma scales cast shadows in the curves of
Her delicate marine body
She chooses to part the rich green leaves around her
Chooses to appear just as she is a scintillating hue
Her world lit in the confidence of simple existence

Her eyes never left mine through the
Dark internal waters and in her
Tiny perfect world from my
Belly dark you slithered up the
Tunnel of my throat I never could have stopped you
You are ever powerful, my little goddess

Her gaze both holds me in perfect comfort
& sees me in off putting clarity for
I am not used to being seen as I am
Oh what magic have I stumbled upon?
Oh what magic has been waiting to ascend from my darkness?

At last, in finality: the truth that
Despite all her majesty despite
Her endless manifestation of peace,

She needs help
I must fiercely protect her



Fall 2019

Black Moth

I dream in fear an Iridescent Black Moth has
Landed on my plate of satsumas but
Genny comes & with such heartbreaking compassion
Scoops him into her palm and brings him outside
Shushing “it’s gonna be okay lil’ guy.”
The little frames his wings may contain
Sleep dust or some sort of ordinary magic
Maybe Genny recognizes the Fae in him
By god, he surely recognizes the Fae in her yet
What message he may have or perhaps just
Fell off his trip to the gas station for
A pack of cigs and a pixie stick
For now they are the only breathing creatures that
Exist in all of space and time and here
They witness the other and the eternal
Absolute that none has felt understood before
The beauty was the amount of gentleness and
Total acceptance with no hesitation that Genny
Gave this creature.
The Magic was the trust that this creature had in her.

Fall 2019

I Knew She Was My Savior When She Infected Me With Her Bite.

From time to time I feel myself in some sort of rag tag community. We are separated, quarantined from society sometimes a tribe or a large broken family or survivors of war. We are those left behind we are those sent to start anew, in torn clothing we are cast away always young people often ones I recognize and sometimes there is a leader but they’re never around. It’s always a dystopian environment like a facility for disturbed young adults with a heavy lock in an abandoned warehouse with twin bunk beds in narrow columns 100 feet up the metal walls and piles of pink trash bags in each corner. Other times we are in the woods, half-lost and half-found at the mercy of the elements. Always it is chaotic, it is dizzying. I get the idea that I need to fend for myself, there is no one preaching mercy or counting sins.

A few weeks ago, I found myself in a thick woods, there were many young people there- we were a sort of tribe or camp and maybe it was springtime, the trees were sad but green and there was a bitterness to the air but a feeling like some horror was past like we had survived a harsh and deadly winter and at least we were still alive. I knew there were some guys out here I had dated long ago, before all this happened but I hadn’t seen them in a while and I figured they were off doing their own thing. It was pretty hard out there and you had to learn to take care of yourself first, it was a cruel lesson.

There was a girl and she was wild. I met her in a pink bikini on a lawn chair by a moldy pool with brassy hair and scrapes on her elbows. When she smiled everything felt warm and a sunflower blossomed in my chest. She needed some help and soon enough we spent every day together. No one was really in charge here, and we were often cold and a little muddy and didn’t have quite enough food. We weren’t starving by any means but I looked at her pale and cold and a little too skinny and I felt guilty she couldn’t have a better life. She deserved more and I wanted to give her that. She never once stopped smiling for me.

People seemed to rush on by, everyone on their own mission, no time to see us here on the side of the road. One day we were hanging out and I noticed I had bug bites and bruises on my hips. It was painful and tender and I was a little worried. She bent over me and with a playful smile she bit me hard on the left hip, leaving a large gash that looked like when I used to cut myself with razor blades back home, but much larger than anything I had ever managed. She felt bad, didn’t mean to do it that deep. Couldn’t even look me in the eyes. She felt real bad.

The wound was very triggering and tender, the pain reminded me of times that were far worse than now, before I had her. Others were almost afraid of it, afraid of me. Their eyes flit from the gash to my eyes and then quickly away. Although I excelled at wound care, a skill I as forced to learn, we didn’t have any medical supplies other than old rags. No clean bandages, no ointment or alcohol. Too soon, I realized, it would become infected. It was a chilling realization.

We had to leave.

This dawned on me like a ice bucket over my head. We were too cold and damp, we were not starving but we were far from comfortable. I knew my wound would not heal in these conditions. The wound was too deep, it was too jagged. We had to leave. Where were the guys?

I told her we had to go and she agreed without skipping a beat of her heart. She would follow me to the lifeless dust of mars, to the suffocating humidity of Venus. There was no need for her to know the truth, which was that if we stayed, I would surely die. This dripping wound, her wound upon me would become infected and I would die here in this empty place. I would die here and leave her alone.

We waited for the new moon and left at night so no one could see us go. She calculated the phases of the moon on her little chart yet I had no idea where we were headed or if there even was a better place but I would rather die in my escape than in that cold land. We had to leave. I took her hand by night and in the shadow of the moon we took cover. I guided her up boulders across valleys her torn jeans her nails were full of soil we waded through thick waters and brine and stench and creatures and rumble of thunder and she was fearless, she was fucking fearless she stared into the eyes of the wild and the wild bowed, humbled. I led her through the abyss, no idea where we were headed or which stars to follow and follow she did, every step of the way god why did she trust me so. Yes she always believed in me, she did. God why did she trust me so.

We traveled, half starved yet I remember little more of the journey other than the fear and I remember little of the new place we found other than that we were inside and we were safe and warm and clean and dry. I slid my arms around her waist and pulled her up into my lap and kissed her soft lips and I said, “come here my girl, I fuckin love you. How did I not see, you’ve been here all along. You’ve been by my side. I fucking love you, I’m so sorry”

And I held her and she held me too and soon I realized that I had not saved her at all, not me, not the absent guys, not the shadow of the moon. In full lucidity she saved me. She initiated me into the inability to remain. She marked me, bit me, healed me. She is the catalyst for the realization that enough is enough. That we were surviving, but that was all. We could not thrive there any longer. We had to make that terrifying journey in search of something greater. She showed me that I was greater.


What she saw in me
She fucking saw me
Not the guys, where the fuck were they?
Where were they when we were cold and hungry?
She has always been here.


She has seen right through me.


Only then did I realize.


I cannot survive in this role this story is no longer okay I am enough as I am I cannot maintain the facade I can no longer be polite I will die here if I don’t leave she has infected me with her bite oh I thought I was her savior yet somehow she saw right through me somehow she knew and it became real, I became real, and the truth behind the truth is that I needed her as much as she needed me and she has healed me as much as I have healed her.

October 2019

Relapse into Fantasy

The New Story is
I am not human
I never was
No desire to eat or bathe or
Love with a body yet some
Creature of the stars
Of soft mosses Pain is
In the skin in the
Mouth it hurts
To breathe. Light too bright
To dull to fight

Call my name by candlelight,
How can’t you see?

Don’t you see I am not human?
I tried to tell him
I tried
there is nothing more to do.

Delusion is a pastime I can
Admit I like to alter reality to a
Place of whimsy if the
Conclusion is my lack of
Humanness, then I acquire a pardon,
Possess an excuse for all the
Strangeness I feel and why
I don’t enjoy having skin around me

There is fear at myself.

Thoughts seem to flit about and attack each other
Sometimes play I observe
Chaos, welcome
Relapse to fantasy to Letting
Go and writing myself into mythology maybe
I can make something maybe
I can make sense this is
Not mania this is salvation this is
Inevitability in a little
Cottage in mountains I
Surround moss I am gathered by fallen twigs
Watched by foxes and magical girls
Follow me around and cry
Crystals at my feet there are
A million moonbeams in your eyes
There are a million reasons to not
Want to die I have always been attracted to a
Man with that twinkle in the eye
Look towards me out of the corners of your face yet
You’ve no idea what you see
What you see is not what you want me to be
I will never be who you need me to be.

I equally am and equally am not a
Misplaced creature in a foreign land am and am not
A cast away deity shaking sleep from stardust hair
This land is not my own I am not of here this
Language discordant in my ears this
Spins too fast this fragile pain
There is no burrow deep enough

Take me back to slow water
Take me back to wind chimes
Take me back to bones
Take me back to the beating of the
Heart of humanity to sex
To electricity where
I could never be touched enough when
I cried out romance into cuts in my skin contains
Feels alive with
Girls I love with
Danger, with
Salvation. Love is repentance
Love is guilt
Love is hurt

Being otherworldly creates me a goddess I
Desire to be admired
From afar
Tell the world pretty stories yet the face
On the other side of the veil is
Just deep lipstick you can
See through my skin, what is on the inside?
There must be a doctor
Somewhere that  can tell me what
I look like inside I tried
Oh god you can believe me I’ve tried

There is something yet within
She inhabits gilded halls
In a little globe in her palm
It is a secret
Inside I am a secret
It is nice that way
Emerge to pray and light incense
To be admired and back
Inside wherever the
World can be too much to
lounge amongst perfection to
Solitude in absolute Men walk from thousands of miles
Away blistered pilgrims in my holy name
Yet the story I really contain a young
Man who somehow
Knows he may not
Be human it does not matter at all
There is nothing we can do
He can see it behind my eyes he can see that
I am not ethereal at all at
2am
Binging on sweets
Greasy hair
Smeared makeup
Dissociated
I am not ethereal
In pain
Under you
At war with myself
To ask you or to not ask you
To stop or to fight
I am not ethereal at
2am
At my parent’s house
Snot on my chin
I am not ethereal changing a wet bloody pad
I am not a ghost I
Haunt old songs in my car
The only part of me that is close to human is the pain,
Possibly the pain
this could be human one day
Pain at blood red at gnawing stomachs
Pain at the throat at the vulva at
Claws in my eyes at
Coldness and pain when hit and
Passing out
I leave blind
I’d rather feel pain than be dead inside

He is pure violence he
Breaks through the lock he
Does not care at all he
Breaks right through my heart through
Ornaments of gold through
Winged cat eyes through
Fishnets he
Destroys my fiction
I thought I did create
My alien skin he
Is not fooled is
Not afraid of me
Oh how did I let this happen he
Tears down the veil he
Does not care at all
Oh I tried to let him know
I am not yet human
Yes I fucking tried to let him know yet
At my feet at the altar on top of
Blood he may die for my
Love does kill, the fleshy creature in me
Caught his eye
He tossed aside my storybook he
Tore apart the fairy tale
Set fire to woodland cottage
Melted down my crown
He cared enough to truly see
He fucking set me free
I fooled myself, why yes he did
And yet likewise, he fooled me.

I’d rather hold the pain than be dead inside
It fits nicely in a little globe Pretty
From outside but
I can make a cage luxurious
No one will take my pain I’ll
Spin stories I’ll seduce you Pain turns
You swooning when I paint it with gilded
Feathers when I sprinkle it with fairy dust when
I record it in a leather bound diary
This is all I have
This is all my own

You will never be able to read me
Even my expressions are in code
Even my kiss is a disguise

I have been asked the right questions before
The breadcrumbs have been followed
Fine,
I’ll admit that
Yet then I cannot maintain
Fresh coats of Lavender over the stain
I cannot protect the storybook
Cannot defend the Pain
This human skin
I tried to become an alien
I fought to become a Fae
I killed myself to become a Saint
For people to share stories
Around camp fires
A being of legend of mystery that
No one ever knew
Who lived in a beautiful cage
Who imprisoned herself in a caricature
Who was never quite sure who she even was
What she was.
Would rather live in stories

A beginning a middle and an end
Tied with a bow

I Know You Fucking Saw Me

Today I take myself to the New Orleans Museum of Art
Alone past lotus pond a ghost’s reflection a Magical Girl
Sat on the concrete ledge you were once here
With me. I always loved you by my side.

Back inside, down a sleepy hallway
Corridor less wandered
Exists a Golden Cabin I saw you here
Mr. Alligator. Sun kissed pebbles flow
Up my belly warm my breasts
Pool in my collarbones
Whisper your voice lowers for me
You were here many years ago
And I fall in love at City Park again & again
As I always do

You are here somewhere in my body you
Haunt these halls enthralled in mystery
In lust with wonder do you feel me here too?

In ceremony, I approach the golden cabin,
Enter my feet inside the holy indentations
Your boots follow a gilded pathway inside

Breath escapes body we make contact here
Skin to frozen skin between thin metal sheets
Ghost to howling banshee
Stand where you stood, Mr. Alligator. Eyes
Ablaze in molten gold, in mundane splendor
There are metallic smartphones and straws and
old soda can tabs I begin to see simplicity
Now I know why you were here.
This whole fucking city
Our feet, soles to soles
Connect Siamese Twins
I can bet you’ve been about everywhere

I discover myself lonely
Expose a hollow I am
14 years old
Bathe in that old music you got me back into
If I cut myself
If I bled & left a mark a call or please please I am here do you see me?
On Repeat? The Noose?
You were fucking right okay?
The Nurse who Loves Me is my favorite song please tell me how you knew
You fucking Saw me
For a Split second for as long as
I needed, You
Fucking know
Stop
You’ve done nothing to hurt me lonely
I fucking hate you
I beg you in finality
Release whatever filth in me in full lucidity you can
Fucking take me

I pray to god one day I will
Have the words to say the Courage to
Face whatever needy, clinging sickness
I orbit you a comet I crash into you Burning fast and
Arrogant, selfishly tearing apart the atmosphere you spent
A decade weaving blankets you insulated
Your heart attempted to snuff out the fires I burst through,
I do not care at all. I am full of violence.

Unstoppable force: You are Welcome Here
Child on Bordered Lines
If she cut her thigh
& bled it all out felt that
Pain white hot counting seconds nursing
Bandages too clean for this filth
I desire most pain

Yet the truth behind the truth is
The shame at the swelling in my heart the
Fantasy that no one could see my dripping wound.

Not a breathing soul would see it there
Could feel that pain
No one could detect it in my eyes
No one would know at all

But the truth behind my heart is the
Secret behind my fantasy is the
Little girl behind my rage that one day
Hopes you will know &
You will feel bad
And you will know
One day
How you have hurt me so

I must disconnect.
“Don’t sleep on a bare mattress again Chere,
When are you gonna stop breaking your heart at City Park,
Like you always do?”

This is dysfunction
This is longing behind
Holding my own body hostage
Behind whatever worth I may or may not have
Behind Check Mate Screaming
Whywon’tyoulovemewhatthefuckdidIdowrong?
Please don’t leave me here
I need you, there I said it,

I fucking need you in finality behind
I know you fucking saw me
THIS IS REAL
I AM NOT A GHOST
if only for a split second
I know you fucking saw me

& the deepest truth of all is the pornography I loop in my brain of a fairy tale I read to babies where you look at me all dressed up and all beautiful all fucking funny and taking over the fucking world
And you just know
I don’t have to say a thing
Somehow you just know
You see my suffering
You see through me

I Hope You’re Staying Dry: Hurricane Party, Sex, Drugs, and Witchcraft

This past weekend’s
Hurricane Party
Skate gang is
Sola, Samuel, and Swamp Bunny

Wake on Alligator’s couch
Sweet voices from the shower
You have a soft side Sola,
My Best friend with her fiancé, Cheshire Cat.
I am glad he treats you well
You rise together early morning
Playful in the shower

When I’m with you we
Pass the best days of my life
We spin dizzy colors
Bleed together and
Sting my eyes
This is Not a Drill
I am in Love with Mr. Alligator
And he is your fiance’s best friend

It is July there is a Hurricane in the gulf
Soon we will feel the sky shaking
Hide in Uptown, New Orleans I know I am not
Safe here yes, I am better off by my parent’s up North
Yet here I am and can you guess why?
I long to sleep tonight in the quiet dip in the sofa
Where you rest your head when you come Home,
Alligator, I long to stay by our friends
Dysfunction and drugs and playing
The Game yes, I love you in plain sight

In the mid morning
Sola and I wander to Tree of Life to
Pray for Rain to Cleanse our Sins
We pose each other in hot pics
For Insta she plants palms in
Damp peat moss in decay she
Kicks her feet up in an arc
Handstand against a low branch
Yoga, muscles, and curves
Unapologetic #ThirstTraps

We suffocate as we heal as Tree of Life
Tosses Spanish Moss in my open diary
Throw me something Ma’am
I take the moss home with me, because
You gave yourself of your free will
Unto me, you placed yourself inside
My diary you demand to lounge
Deep in my unconscious and you
Surface in my dreams in
Sexual fantasies I enjoy
Thinking of Alligator when I am with
His Best Friends I am
Aroused by the idea
Of them feeling envious of our
Tense desire our burning eyes

Tree of Life commands us to
Weave Magic
Into the tapestry
Into the sky
Sola and I gather moss for spell work
For darker days

I ascend her
Straddle her solid beneath me
“Girl You’ve Got To Trust Her
Or this will never work okay?”
Palms on bark, focus on her branch
In my eyes of ancients past
I’ve gotta trust what is directly in front
There is no fear in this moment
“I can’t look down or surely I will fall.”
Succumb to flying to
Standing on tippy toes to
Steal a Kiss her sun kissed leaves
Leave her blushing you always
Leave me wanting more
But you’re not here, are you Mr. Alligator?
And so I climb her more.

Back home it is late, late
Samuel turns off the TV and
Hushes the boys to let me sleep
In the nook of your body’s heat
I still feel you here
You slept here weeks ago
When are you coming home?

The next night we discover an
Alien Planet
Rich folk’s grass
The good kind on the
Golf Course at Audobon Park
Carpet exposes we are miniatures
Ant specks crawling under a
Purple and orange sky observes
Ancient oaks pause
Here and there as a
Humble Hurricane passes by
He arrives in finality and marvels
Me and the Gang
Break Federal Curfew
Indulge in rebellion
Punk Rock jacket I created
To show you who’s boss
I am the #SwampThot
Sola takes a photo of me
Stretched seductively
Across the slick keep- out sign
We give Zero Fucks
Piss on the pampered lawn of
Old Money New Orleans
Generations of dirty Money
Lavishness fetishized from the
Blood and sweat of Slaves,
Walking home on St. Charles
A blacked out car skids by
Samuel says they “must be moving
A couple Kilos.” Since “now would
Be the perfect time.” Says a cop
Follows in disguise.

Back home: Samuel presents a
Fancy case his wide smile with a flourish says
“Swamp Bunny, You Need To Smell This Weed”
My face betrays my repulsion my
Lack of experience with his decadence
Unintentionally personal insult
He has lost the ability to relate that
I cannot be impressed I make a
Mental note to tell Alligator,
He will be in stitches over this one.

Morning and Sola, Samuel and I blade
Audoban park in full lucidity
Of daylight we are
The Coolest Kids you’ll ever see
Who wouldn’t kill to hang with us?
Rushing past Blaring
Nasty music Dressed to
Impress Styled to Terrify
Moves to Testify
Samuel says he feels like he’s flying
I say I feel alive

Afternoon and we encounter a Vigilante Weatherman
At The Fly on the Mississippi River, says
He prefers to be called an
Armature Storm Chaser
I could not resist asking about
His homemade wind sock
Broken Sexton from Party City after Halloween Sale
Red Hair and freckles, eyes squint
Points to the Eye of the Storm
In the distance
Draws us a diagram on a
Stained Chinese Takeout Menu
I dare not correct him, bite my tongue
Struggle to keep from laughing that
Everything he has said is wrong, wrong, wrong.

The sweetest moment the
Hard candy on my tongue
Was a 5 word text from my Alligator
“I hope you’re staying dry.”

Night falls: Cheshire cat shows me
Patient bubbles in molten
Butter teaching me to make
Edibles Sickly Golden
Marshmallow and 90s children’s cereal
Always Watching Everything and Everyone
He takes it all in, I wonder
Does he have a choice? I wonder
Can he rest at night?

Hurricane Barry 2019 I spent with
My Best Friend Sola, with Samuel and
Cheshire Cat, cuddled in my Crush’s bed

And here in my palm,
I take home a mason jar of
Hurricane Water I gathered in heavy mugs
On the brick by her potted garden
Sola adds Brandy to keep it fresh
Now colors honey sharp to save for
Witchcraft for dry days
One for me and one for you.
And a boy for me and a boy for you.
How could I want for more.