ptsd: a poem written in 2017 that still applies in 2020
ptsd © 2017 punkie Listen here (and/or read below): ptsd © 2017 punkie i cry as the sun sets i weep at its rise the least little…
thank you for being here with me
This poem is for the people who love me, see me, support me, stick with me no matter what, and who are relentless in not allowing me to give…
hidden junk
I once told a then-lover not to send me pictures of his penis. Ever. “Why not?” he queried. “Because you never know where such pictures might end up,” I…
ode to a little #pink bullet
In spring 2019, I visited an adult toy store for the first time in years. I’m not in the least bit embarrassed about being in a sex shop — I…
second fiddle
The writing of this poem, and the circumstances that led to its surfacing, helped me discover, name and understand something about myself that I think I’ve always known at some…
everything’s gonna be alright…eventually
February and March 2020 weren’t such great months. Not for me. Not for most of the rest of the world. I wrote this poem towards the middle of March, after…
doing time
They say time heals all wounds. Let it be so. doing time ©2020 punkie doing time the rhythmic tick tock of the antique clock tortures & tears…
the devil’s in the house of the rising sun
the devil’s in the house of the rising sun © 2020 pookie the devil’s in the house of the rising sun i awake at sunrise with a universe-sized canyon…
