let yourself out

I held her with imbecilic force in my arms asleep, laying there in her arms and mine wrapped around her and I was ready for her again. Again. I told her I love you by accident and then filled my words with more to cover it up. That didn’t work either so then she rolled over to face me and we slept f2f and I could breathe her breath and it went on that way for the morning hours until I got up. She left some hours later to the other lover she had in her back pocket. I eventually and finally ate seroquel to drift and numb. She looked good, too, when she left me not sometime after I uttered to her, let yourself out. I turned to quietly walk to the back of the house where an exit held promise. I walked slowly, barefoot and could hear her as she left with the click of a quiet door closing.

she her they

marlon sitting crossed legged and armed

she her they

crossed at 2:30 am and 9:30 and 11:52

verbal sequitor

i see that there are concentration camps again

let’s cross the line hear sand under boots scratch


crash and storm the perimeter and cutting wires on bare skin

blood and spit and that upstart

but why does it go this way



intimate love

if you watch her walk, there’s a very slight limp when she puts weight on her left hip. it endears her to me. i watch. entranced. hips and full ass swinging left and right, forward. i love watching her walk. she is fantasy in motion. she is sleeping beauty awake and at last, here.

there is much, maybe too much – discernment about intimacy on my mind.

how to.

do it.

how to.

live peacefully.

is it possible.

language of love

dear diary 3.0 | reflecting


I’m pretty surprised, yes, at certain new developments in the national community interested in Peer Supports. What came on hard and furious to nil communication startles me into a general quiet stupor around my US Teacher P2P model of adapting the Certified Peer Specialist certification into an on the ground Transition Age Youth model designed to provide for wrap around supports to both: educator and student.

I am reserving the right to comment on the grotesque business as usual sense of usury in place apparently and a general all-pervading desperation that is a deep seeded interest to improve systems of care environments in the field of Education.


Dear Diary 2.0


I feel so loved right now.

black dress
saturday, 3.16.19

“One angel to another… this place is hell…” (Padron Quip, 2019)

“I’d be good for nothing like Goodfernuthin Joe, too, I know… ain’t a woman just like that…” (Lena Horne, 1934)

I have been sick with Bronchitis. Shout out to my cool peeps at work who have been so great to and for me. I am pretty lucky.

Screwing the legs onto the painted panels making 1 table for someone pretty excited about it. Two layers of clear gloss polyurethane to protect the paint.

Got into a national conference to present a paper for 30 minutes and an hour workshop in Santa Fe this August that I am really looking forward to working on more, making them excellent to learn see hear.

Were it not for the struggle, I wonder if the end product would be as sweet.

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