This compilation of late-night writings
Is both incomplete and highly imperfect.
It will be obvious to some readers
How little I know about grammar and punctuation (or how little I care to follow the rules).
To such readers, I genuinely applaud your expertise on written language, which is a testament to your hard work, intelligence and privilege.
Please excuse my coloring outside the lines and confines of language rules: I failed to pay attention in school and I have a rebellious streak, so my writing style results from my ignorance of writing rules and my desire to break the few rules I do know. With all due respect, I think we have more pressing matters at hand than minding our p’s and fucking q’s or qu’est-ce que c’est (pardon my French). If you frown upon the improper use of a semi-colon, then perhaps you would benefit to empty the contents of your colon, and I mean that with sincere well-wishes for your colon.
I hope that the words I have (sometimes sloppily) strung together will touch your heart, perhaps make you laugh or cry, and most of all help you heal from the painful experiences of your life. We are all injured children who will hopefully heal in our adulthoods and stop the inter-generational cycle of harming the very young. Although life is inseparable from suffering, it is my humble hope that my poems will help prevent and alleviate the suffering of others. If I help just one person, my efforts will have been more than worth it.
I write poetry about child abuse, rape, sex work, addiction, PTSD, womanhood, abortion, break-ups and broken hearts: the personal experiences of my life. Although these themes are laden with suffering, I weave a glistening thread of hope, healing and humor throughout the tapestry of my life and my poetry. May you find that thread within you and hold onto it in troubled times. Although the road to recovery is rough and we stumble along the way, may we continue forward always. May we be healthy in our hearts, bodies and minds, and may our spirits shine bright.