I will not give in to my circumstances. My circumstances don’t define me only I can do that. I will not let anyone or anything take away my power to heal and love myself for who I am and what I will be in the future. I am taking back everything that everyone has taken from me. I will learn to forgive those who have hurt me the most. I know that this a process and every journey in the process begins with the first step. It is okay for me to cry, vent, scream or do what is needed for me to get “through” this storm. To all of those who love and support me I need you the most to understand me and not criticize me. Sometimes I just need you to listen and sometimes I just need to borrow your strength and some of your tenderness. I am not a mess but a “work in progress” Again I will not give in to my circumstances. My circumstances don’t define me only I can do that!!!!


The Magenta Rain pours out

On the unsuspecting white lilies

Turning them into lilacs

An unexpected transformation

A different kind of beauty

Bestowed neatly

Gently hidden in the fields

Between the weeds, cause the need

To measure your self-esteem

Against the brown crabgrass or

The naked dandelions that have

Blown their tops

Stems standing naked and erect

But premature ejaculation for sure

Only leaves the heart sore

Of the one

Who loves the most

The deepest, the longest

Never in control

I feel nothing

Cause that one thing

That was something

I am learning to live

With out; Love

And so in the middle of the fields

I feel the weeping willow tree

Crying, trying to gauge

How far I have come

But the distance is too great

For me  to calculate

Foreign measurements

Confuse me

I don’t know the centimeters

Or the parameters

Or the circumference

Nor depth, nor height

Nor width

I just know with a whiff

That it is my own bullshit

That is so deep

Now I lay me down to sleep

But why?

In my heart I am

Ready to die

Can’t cry

No matter

How hard I try

Cause the stereotypes

Are great

I have enough hate

For life

For love

For living

For giving

To those who

Just took everything from me

So there is no forgiving that

Bent over as my head

Smacks a reality

Bruised and confused

I don’t know the issues

I need a tissue

To wipe away the residue

The stench of my defecation

Will fertilize the ground

As the sound of new growth

Breaks through the earth

Taking roots

Springing into a new life

At least my shit was

Good for something

Not sure

If the Magenta Rain

Could wash away

The brown stains

On the white lilies

Where I defecated

I am hated

By nature

By love

By women

Then again

That is a two way Street

So to speak

Because it is not a surprise

That there is a price tag

On her bag

That contains a lifetime

Of pain

I have a multiple migraines

That are driving me insane

No games tonight

No sunlight

I just might

Take delight

In the plight

Hoping the lilies

Don’t like being lilacs



Consume me 

Because there is

No room in me

I am not coming

Back in fact

The stains remains

As the Magenta Rains

Cause it reigns on the

Just as well as the unjust

But it must just

Be raining only on me

Cause I must be


Cause apparently

 I am like J-O-B

My spirituality

Is dipped in a reality

Cause I can’t see

The forest from the trees

Or the weep willow weeping

For me

In the field of lilies

The Magenta Rain Falls

On the lilacs

There is no way we

Both can come back

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in·cu·bus   [in-kyuh-buhs, ing-] Show IPA noun, plural -bi  [-bahy] Show IPA, -bus·es. 1. an imaginary demon or evil spirit supposed to descend upon sleeping persons, especially one fabled to have sexual intercourse with women during their sleep. Compare succubus (def. 1). 2. a nightmare. 3. something that weighs upon or oppresses one like a nightmare.