Our love swiftly became toxic.

What was once a promising flower budding in the spring,

turned to deathly remains withered in the cold winter.

We were thought to be happy once, with stars in our eyes and the world at our feet,

Then as if a dream turned nightmare the illusion shattered with the poisonous strike of an adder.

We became toxic to one another and then, the world, driving each other to utter madness. We spread the misery like a plague, infecting others with our deadly virus.

We watched with bated breath, as the world crumbled around us, into a fiery plume of despair. We watched it burn to cinders while we laughed our maniacal laugh.

We became the demons we accused each other of being, with no way of stopping the train of destruction that was us. W crashed head-on staring helplessly at our dismembered love.

The lifeless corpse of our love lay shattered on the ground. Broken bones and broken promises. All just scattered remnants of our toxic love.

<a href=””>Toxic</a&gt;







I have often wondered what the world thought of me.

I wish, to step outside myself and see me the way it does.

To watch the way I walk down the street or run into the arms of my lover. With my stilted gait. Do I really do it all differently, than anyone else does?

I would love to see my hair the curly rats nest that it is, blowing in the breeze on a hot summer day. Would I then see what everyone else sees in its natural cascading waves?

My eyes with their alluring hazel hues. I wonder, do they really sparkle like emeralds at times?

If I saw myself idling in line at the grocery store in my pajama bottoms late at night, Would I cringe at such a sight? Or would I applaud such obvious bravery?

I wish I could watch myself writing. I imagine myself in the midst of a story. I would watch in awe, as my left-hand scrolls across the paper creating something that wasn’t there before. My face lit up with the glow of fantasy. I wonder how beautiful I would seem, following my dreams.

I wonder if I came upon myself crying, shattered and broken. Would I be able to resist running up to wrap my arms around myself to whisper “everything will be okay.”

If I watched myself long enough would I be able to discern the moments the past catches up with me just by looking into my eyes?

Would I be like the rest of the world? Judging a book by its cover. Or would I see the past pains that broke my heart, the past joys I share in my heart? The present and all that I have overcome.

Would I see me as I know me? Or would I succumb to the poisonous way the world views me?

I know this cannot happen. I cannot step outside myself and look at who and what I am from another perspective. I guess I will have to be satisfied in knowing who and what I am deep down inside Instead of the distorted image, they see every time, I look in the mirror.

<a href=””>Wonder</a&gt;


We all see those quizzes on facebook right? You know the ones that you take to see what state you should live in, or the one that sees what kind of princess you should be, or the ones that show what angel you are, or mythical creature, or cartoon character or, or agghhh! It is enough to make your head spin and God forbid you do one that a friend sent you the link for then that is ALL THEY EVER SEND YOU!

I have never seen one that states what your alter ego should be. So me, being who I am, took that as a challenge of sorts and so here we are. I challenge all my followers and more to do a blog about your alter ego. I will go first and I may even do a blog from time to time with her thoughts. So here goes…

She is also a brunette except her eyes are the color of emeralds disappearing into the darkness of the night. She believes in nothing but herself and she unlike me has kept her girlish figure since she has no children or husband or anything but herself. She also survived the trauma of our youth yet, she unlike me deals with it by getting into bar fights with grown men and cracking skulls. She loves the smell of blood on the pavement in the morning. Kicking ass and taking names is her mantra. She loves the feel of leather on her skin the tighter the better and wears cowboy boots (she calls shit kickers) but only ironically. She unlike me has managed to tame her wild hair down to a silky wave and wears a leather vest with no bra every chance she gets. She rides a hog and nothing else, everything she owns is in her saddlebags.

She loathes jewelry and makeup save for the to die for ruby red lipstick she wears, she calls it the whore’s mouth and yet she doesn’t have random sex. She may be loose with her morals but she tends to keep her legs firmly closed. She knows she’s hot and loves to torture men with her feminine wiles. She sees nothing wrong with this as it is in her terms just part of the job.

Speaking of jobs she used to be a police officer, after the trauma of our childhood she decided what better way to get the scum off the streets than to be a policewoman. However, she went rouge one too many times as she loathes rules just as much as she loathes jewelry and makeup, and got kicked off the force. She is now one of the most sought after Bounty Hunter’s even with her tendencies toward rage. She is in a word psychotic. I fear she will one day take her rage to the next level but she just laughs and laughs inside my head. Not a girly laugh mind you, a laugh that would make even the devil quake in his fiery pit.

She sees things only in black and white there are no in between’s and she uses all her attributes to get her man every damned time. She would say that justice rules her but I see how broken she is. Only I see her for what she really is a scared little girl that doesn’t get close to anyone out of fear of what they can do to her. Regardless of this, the damage has been done. She speaks her mind and for anyone that doesn’t like it will more than likely get a beat down. She has broken more laws than I can count yet she would say she is the law. She makes it, she can break it. I feel for her in her loneliness no family to call her own, but I know she just sees that as weakness. “Feelings blah!”  She would say and I would shed a tear for her broken shattered soul.

This, this is my alter ego. She may be beautiful on the outside, but on the inside, she is a raging inferno ready to blow at any moment. Her name is Angel by the way, what is your alter ego like?



If you want to hear more from Angel, like and commet…