The tides are changing



One day a woman called me a (low life) during an argument

Instead of retaliating with curses and obscenities

I simply said,”Well since you are way at the top

(using my right hand to demonstrate)

and I am way at the bottom

(using my other hand to show the difference)

There is ONLY one way for me to go


there is only one way for you to go


I will wave as we pass  each other by…





I am a FOLDER in a File


I asked my mother due to being in psychotherapy if there was a psycho-social from my childhood due to the long history. She said” Yes it is in your folder” My folder ? I responded as she gestured twards the file cabinet. I knew that she kept some memorabilia of our family in storage since the only pictures she mainly displayed were of her and her parents and aunts etc on the walls. While I was trying to heal and deal with my past trauma I had read a lot of books and one said that you might (makeup) your past to explain your discomfort. I had tried to say maybe I had exaggerated my thoughts about my mother’s emotional and physical abuse and maybe she was just being a mom under pressure.I looked at the folder and instead of it being baby pictures, my art work as a child it was her writing such as journals about what a loser I was . I tried to act like I didn’t see anything bad as I hid the papers in my shirt. I finally had proof. I was not a monster, I was not a bad egg, I was a child that didn’t know how to cope with my situation. I found the Psychosocial and the first thing it said was that I was an ATTRACTIVE 12-year-old…omg my heart melted, my mother had told me I wasn’t pretty as a child. When I asked her if she knew what was in the Psychosocial she just said, ” I think it said, oh yeah you were an underachiever” “Oh”, I said  and continued reading how I was above average and superior in my IQ tests. I  started shaking and although I could overpower my mother easily now I still felt that fear like I did as a child. She had the power to make me feel horrible then and I needed something showing that it was not just me. That I was not bad and someone should have helped me. She got up and started talking about her and her meltdown and her sleep deprivation etc and I do not lie my skin crawled as she moved past me. I have never felt anything like that in my life. My skin actually did a dance and I have the papers that give me the closure I needed. I showed them to my therapist and there was no doubt in their mind that my mother was mentally unstable and a “Monster” in their words. She had a lot of good things about her as well and  I can forgive her and myself now because I realize she was sick. All I wanted was someone to see it from my side so I wouldn’t feel so alone.



due to having PTSD I am constantly in therapy and psychiatrist offices. One of the favorite questions I am asked is if I have NIGHTMARES. I say, “No, they are like my life was , violent, crazy, lost and lonely but that is not a nightmare that is how my life was” so I finally ask myself Do people have happy dreams?

The lengths we go through… and for what?


Chutes and Ladders

Once I laid down in a row of beds (50 in total) the woman who I was in arms reach of her face at the head of my bed introduced herself. Within two minutes she asked me if I “smoked” inquiring about nicotine. At the time smoking had been taken out of RIKERS ISLAND but where there is a will there is a way. Not to mention corruption, due to the fact that the illegal contraband was brought in mainly by the same people who were our “captors” whom were the officers. She was an older woman that had no teeth and when I asked her what happened she said during an argument with her “get high” buddy she had broken her denture while she was biting her associate during the scuffle. Since illegal lighters were hard to find she explained how we would light the tobacco with a battery and wires from “headphones” and she knew someone that had the tobacco but you needed to have commissary to trade. I believe it was a Chips ahoy Cookie pack, Two honey buns and two Kool-Aids If I wanted a REAL NEWPORT it would cost me ten dollars in trade. After coaxing and getting a message from the girl (young) that was a wanna be “Scarface” of loose tobacco that she had no problem “cutting someone” which was saying that if I ratted her out. Why would I tell an officer when they are the ones that probably gave it to you??? loll (crazy life). Once she had asserted her tough guy persona after a painstaking fiasco of finding a battery, then finding someone that was willing to strip their headphone wire and they all wanted a piece of the action. Me, my new-found friend that likes to bite during fights, the wire master and the battery queen all piled into the corner of the shower to get our reward. I took one drag and handed it to the rest and said,” You keep it I am done” and haven’t smoked since.

That feeling…it’s been so long


1467301_649652795085291_753601988_nI hate public transportation, I try to sit (if) I get the opportunity in a spot with the least movement. I am so tightly wound that I try to move my leg or body so that nobody brushes against me. No, I do not feel (better than) or look down on my fellow New Yorkers but due to life’s challenges, I am UNTOUCHABLE. I talk all day with my clients and run groups constantly but I am still in my own world. Suddenly a large man sits next to me in the two-seater I choose. I am thinking why would he want to squeeze next to me and start to rummage through my bag to look like I am not fazed by his presence. I feel the warmth of his body next to me and it reminded me of a time when I had someone I thought was special and I would have nestled against his shoulder and arm. I glance at his legs and he actually is tall and sturdy. I pretend to look if my stop is coming and look at his profile and get a longing that has been gone for so long. I can smell the leather of his jacket and imagine being able to rest my head on his shoulder. All of a sudden I realize its time to get up because my stop is coming and my guard goes up and once again I am UNTOUCHABLE.



I have seen many examples

of people that want to move

objects without raising a hand

What sounds supernatural

I now see as a potential disability

We worry so much about





One might think we really care about our body…

but in actuality, it is catering

to the mind and its insecurities

The mind doesn’t give a shit about the body

It only cares about what others will think about it

I live in a neighborhood that

shows its battle scars

its a population of homeless

addicts and mentally challenged

Yes, there is a little bit of everything

in this land of nothing

I watch my peers limping and racing

down the block to be able to smoke that cigarette

since the program only gives them a few minutes

I see the over the hill thugs

standing around the CHECK CASHING spot

waiting for their cue

We all are running to or away from

our thoughts and the body and spirit

is the casualty.

I used my body to get what I

needed to silence the mind

My body took all the wear and tear

and eventually the mind

that was so demanding will

abandon ship and leave you

with a shipwreck and

a ritualistic method of behaviors

that still feel so important.



Why is it that I don’t even want to be touched

by another, everything feels awkward and forced

like faking an orgasm or pretending my fellow New Yorkers

don’t make me sick on public transportation…

Would a carefree life feel boring? I would like to try it

Why is it that we search for excitement and or validations?

In so many defeating circumstances and situations?

I am seeking BALANCE now

I don’t want to rush, I don’t want a surprise

I don’t even want to date because I don’t want to

have to figure anybody out, I got enough

on my plate

I want a world that I LIKE and I want a world that

feels SAFE to be in,

Why do things have to be EXTREME?

Fuck hard, EAT big, Have more,



and still, we are never satisfied

If it is not my doubts concerning my company

then it is my own self-defeating thoughts

that play over and over again in my head

NYC in all its glory, with its loud rude crowded streets

I have become a product of my environment  and

try to beat you to the punch and get the last word

I have been in overdrive for so long I don’t know how

to SLOW DOWN….It can be a DOG-EAT-DOG world





Don’t flatter yourself too much…

I created you…

I made you…

I imagined you….

No, I am not a GOD

No, I do not have delusions of grandeur

so I know I didn’t mold you from Clay or

bring you into this world magically

but I brought you into mine

I brought you into my face, space

emotions and reactions and

just like I created you to be  in my world

and making you out to be someone

you were not…

I am knocking you off the pedestal

that I put you on

I see I gave you way to

much power and way

to much of my energy

I used to be afraid to be alone

but I never knew the beauty it has

to offer when you give yourself the

power and concentration that

you were wasting on someone else.

Instead of creating my other half

I now realize I need to be whole by

myself because two hollows

DO NOT make a WHOLE…

EMPATHY and or Masochism?


I walked past “your corner”

on my way home from work tonight

The wind was strong and I was cold

I looked at the “spot” on the ground

(the corner) where you sat religiously…

You are not there anymore…

I am happy and sad because I do not like

“Not Knowing” what happened, the outcome

I never wanted to care, you were just a beggar

I swore I wouldn’t fall for your panhandling hustle

but one day I couldn’t help but ask

“Do you really make enough money to go through

all these extremes and is it really worth it?”

we talked and you explained  your life,

you were so young and lost

you sat in the scalding sun

you sat in the freezing cold

I would talk to you every day

you were a familiar face

I wanted you to strive for more

but it still feels odd without you now

I hope it is for the better

I changed my life but I still identified

with your stubborn ways

sitting in a crazy, rough neighborhood

asking for help…

Every time I pass that corner

I see the world as if I were you

I feel the cold, I feel the sunburns

I feel like a nomad

that lived for the day

and not the future

goodbye my friend

It’s time to change where I let

my spirit take me

what I embrace and endure

I have to try and forget you

since everything in life

is temporary  I cannot continue

to only see the world through

the eyes of the broken.



Childhood which to me defines

being brought into this world  and

not by choice and when old enough to

see, hear and study your examples

you wait for reactions to the actions

of others, watching and mimicking

The constant confusion shoved down our

throats. The Hate spewed in our ears


overwhelming our thought processors

Such an early age, so much confusion.

A TV filled with “NEWS” of pains and

sorrows worldwide, everyone sits and watches

the world crumble and as long as it

doesnt apply to them it is

just a conversation piece

Our Houses which do not feel like Homes

DRUNKS teaching you manners

at an evening dinner table

the hypocrisies and contradictions

Everyone coming to their own

versions of realities and  religions built to suit

their norms and comfort zones…

I thought this country was called

The “UNITED” States of America?

it don’t feel united or even fair

Racism is still in full effect

but deflected with expertise

by manipulations built on

insecurities and stupidities

sometimes stupidity is a choice

because you don’t have to look

outside the box…

being racist at one’s own “convenience”

merciful when it suits the timing

and playing to a select crowd

A person screaming about whom

and what are abominations  as

they lead a double life and creep

into their child’s rooms at night

I am so tired of trying to get a better view

a sense of self, love, and humanity

while I see the hate and confusion

and bitterness spreading like cancer

I will not give up because I refuse to

believe this is all that life has to offer