May 6, 2026

I think yeah

By Steph

…definitely, the eclipse, moon, planets, comets, asteroids, ghosts, spirits, spirit animals, trees, flowers, grass, rocks, mountains, rivers, sandy red clay, sky, sun, clouds, rays of sunlight, Mother Earth, Gaia, Mother Eureka, Ozark Dreamland, the collective consciousness of all people everywhere, the specific consciousness of the people, places, and things nearest to me, and everything all around and under all of us, affects the way I feel and how I process things and what I can do, that’s for sure. Oh, also where I am in my monthly cycle, if I’ve taken my meds, if it is too hot or too cold or too sneezy or too itchy or too ticky or too touristy, if I’ve slept okay, if I’ve eaten and how is my stomach? Am I bloated, do my pants fit, when did I cry last? Does he really love me? For fuckssake, you may as well think so until you can’t anymore! You’re obviously fucking doing this and it’s obviously gonna hurt but it’s not like you’ll listen to reason!

As a general rule, no, I’m probably not picking up what you’re putting down unless you are also like this, in which case THANK FUCK, JUST BE COOL. Works for me! I think it’s probably a really good thing that I mostly only talk to people I feel safe with; even if one of the four of them got super out there, it wouldn’t be outthere-outthere, you know? That makes me wonder why I would be “afraid” of being around other maybe not-so-known-therefore-not-as-safe people and I got nothing, because, in this moment, I don’t feel like I would have to be any way other than dressed (no cleavage, definitely bra or a sweater/coat, no shorts!, no yoga pants, omg all my jeans are so tight!) (yoga pants and crop top rn so I guess maybe there’d be preparation involved (thanks trauma!) and like, distaste, for having to make myself palatable at all fucking YES, I DO, I NEED ALL THESE KNIVES and this is where calling cards would come in. You’d leave your card if I was…INDISPOSED! I never remember that word when I need it. But yeah, I’ll see you when I’m more disposed.

1 Comment   |  tags: , , , , | posted in anxiety, CPTSD, Just Being Awesome, random bullshit, thoughts, total chaos

May 5, 2026

What Life

By Steph

 

What life, that was his answer, then.

And I knew just what he meant.                                 

Neither of us had much to lose.

But we knew, both of us knew,                   

one of us would hurt before the end

and broken hearts are hard to mend.

 

Oh, how easy it is to ignore

things like facts, and fear,

and common sense, when                        

kisses are like lightning storms

and pulses pound with such demand.

 

I am the way I have always been.

Am I? The way I’ve always been?

Maybe, this is who I was, before,

just a daughter, a mother, a wife.

(Until I wasn’t anymore.)

                                 

Or maybe that girl-child-woman                              

 broke into so many pieces

that even she will never find all of them.

Maybe she’s long gone and

you’re looking at the shell of a woman

who so selfishly survived.

 

Or, okay, maybe I’ve been fucked up since the day I was born!

The ‘when’ hardly matters when you

suddenly, somehow, find yourself whole.

If you can acknowledge the fucking travesty of living.

If you can remember the rhythm of your own heartbeat.

 

“Self-care” can, by definition, only be selfish.

Self-absorbed bitch, he named me, and he was right.

Because not killing myself takes all that I have.

I know my worth; I am a burden if anything at all.

But I will keep going, even if I have to crawl.

 

If I live selfishly, care for myself,

with this never-ending “self-care”

then I don’t want to die. Every day.

I can exist, I can just be without

fighting myself for my self.

                   

I can just

be without.

 

Maybe you don’t know the hopelessness

of a hopeless life.

If I’ve accidentally, finally, for now,

found a way to want a life?

What line would I not cross?

What rules would I not toss aside?

For the smallest chance to abide

inside my own mind and not mind?

 

I am no one’s happiness, I am no one’s home,

not even my own.

Still, I know

that any kind of “us”

even an “us for now”

will be time well spent.

Leave a comment   |  tags: , , , , , | posted in poetry, stuff I made up, thoughts

April 24, 2026

Cottonmouth in the Dark

By Steph 
Translucent and paper-thin,
the current suit of skin whispers
across splinters--
bayonets of bone--
poised as if to pierce flesh. 

But these overgrown bones
crumble
under pressure 
and, bluff called, withdraw without drawing blood
leaving only bruises
like threats
blooming in black and blue.

When speaking clearly gets too hard, 
my words stumble,
hung up on the hills and valleys
of the scars that carve
deep fissures into my tongue.

The widening gaps between my teeth
pinch pink lips 
as if to say, "Bite your tongue" 
or "Make a long story short"
suggestions I've heard many times before.

I'm always sorry
before I'm done speaking; 
my apologies chase
the sentences I swallow 
back down my throat.

Heavy-lidded eyes ache, 
so dry they're going blind,
but my perspective changed with my vision--
maybe living in darkness,
I'll finally see?

As my voice and the light fade,
the surrounding silence grows
thick and weighty, like
the things I don't say
or the heavy words of men.

Leave a comment | posted in poetry, stuff I made up, thoughts

April 19, 2026

Names

By Steph 
Call me Shame.
Female: born to bear children, born to bear pain.

Stone me, burn me, imprison me with your name.

The world is yours, boy-a-mother-made.


Call me Shame.

Mother: bore man in birth, life, and death; nearly all her days.

Mother’s sons learn early where to lay their fists and where to place their blame.

“Whore” is only one of our names; heavy words for sons of mothers to say.











Call me SHAME.





Woman: bleeds to breed to bear to birth; a life lived in blood stains.





Sons of mothers born self-righteous, rapacious, knowing they’re owed all things.





Mothers, daughters, motherlands; all exist only to slake man’s thirst to claim.















Call me…Awake.





Call me cruel and mean and broken and insane.





Call me Fucking Bitch as you shoot me in the fucking face.





Call me Baby, ask me why I make you cause me pain.















For every time a woman bit her tongue to keep the peace,





For every time a woman suffered silently, and for every unheard scream,





For every time a woman carried the marks of some man’s rage,





For those reasons, and for 62 million more…





Yes. Oh, yes, we will name names.






			

	

	

		2 Comments		  |  tags: , , , , , , , , 						| posted in poetry, random bullshit, stuff I made up, writing					

	



							


	

		
			January 26, 2024		
	

	
90 Seconds, Still

	

		By Steph	

	

		

It just hit me that most of the people in charge of The Entire World and all the things we’ve created that could wipe out The Entire World and everyone and everything? 





Um, those people are at least as old as I am, so that means older than THE INTERNET. That means hot flashes AND having a period. THESE PEOPLE USED TO PADDLE US WITH WOODEN PADDLES, ANYTIME, ANYPLACE. They didn’t even have to be your parents! 





Omg, like, HELLO GENX, I know most of us just got out of prison (#warondrugs I mean fathers) but do you see who we’ve let run this shitshow? And now look. (Or don’t look. it’s depressing and we’ve all got shit mental health and 12 autoimmune diseases.) 





I don’t know the rest of the letters, but I need to know how close we are to starting over at letter A. TELL ME! Has the A GENERATION been prepping for this or what? 





WHILE I’M YELLING, THE X was a one-off that we EARNED, very disappointed in whoever did the Y, Z nonsense, but then again, it IS alphabetical, and I still don’t know the order so this message could be from the Ambien I forgot I took and the pot I smoked right before I had this epiphany.





*THIS POST MAY NOT BE TAKEN AS AN ADMISSION OF GUILT BY ANY PARTIES, LET ALONE GENX, FOR FS LEAVE US ALONE. A lot of us are still on probation from that time we caught 3 felonies for a fucking blunt roach and a one-hitter. 

			

	

	

		5 Comments		  |  tags: , , , , 						| posted in invisible illness, Just Being Awesome, random bullshit, stuff I made up, thoughts, total chaos, your health is your wealth and this is why I'm poor