Heroin…A Poem

Look, there.

See the faintest of marks.

A small collective of scars,

the tiniest of cuts.

Down her wrists.

Across her arms.

A most deliberate art,

at least two, maybe even a few close calls.

Hidden there, beneath those long sleeves,

Is a truth only she and the mirror can see.

Such an intricate, tangled web of deception,

She—the girl with the secrets—knows how to weave.

Where is SHE, they ask of me.

What happened to the girl they used to know?

Where did she go?

Does anybody know?

Who is SHE, they ask of me.

This girl that stands in her place.

The girl that wears her face.

She’s an imposter, they claim.

A duplicate.

A fake.

She’s cold, there is no warmth.

Where there was once,

there is no more.

She has the hollow, vacant eyes of one who has seen too much.

The weary sighs…the exhaustion in the worried lines; signs she’s had enough.

Driven by them all to the very edge of the ledge she stands upon.

No talking her down this time.

Her mind’s made up : she’s given up.

Hello World, can you hear her now?

Do you see her now?

End the pain, erase the blame, and forget her name.

The girl with the secrets–when the lights go down,

In the darkness—she’s one and the same.

In time, the memory of her will fade.

And that’s okay.

Sometimes it’s better this way.

Sometimes forever only lasts a day.

So she goes somewhere quiet.

Somewhere private,

somewhere no one can see.

How she ties the band tight,

After she pulls up her sleeve.

She no longer feels the slight pinch.

She’s done it so often, she’s embarrassed to admit.

She’s grown accustomed to it.

Now for the burn; that solitary, momentary sting.

Take a breath, let it out.

The discomfort is only fleeting.

Then it’s nothing but pure oblivion.

Feels so good, it’s damn near Heaven.

Flowing through the bluest of veins.

This slight scar, too–in time–will fade.

Beautiful angel melody.

She’s a delicate mess; a reckless calamity.

Her life discolored by too much despair and tragedy.

The girl with the secrets,

and her heroin remedy.










Orphan… a poem.

Broken child, bleeding child.

Kneeling there on the floor.

Go ahead, just pretend.

That you don’t see her tears.

Go ahead, just pretend.

That you can’t hear her cries.

Turn around, walk away.

Still the sound of her weeping,

echoes throughout every room in the house.

Play the martyr, blame the victim.

Say it wasn’t your fault.

Make excuses.

Go on and lie to yourself.

Console yourself with the pretext

Of how nothing you could have done would have helped.

That it was out of your hands from the start.

Broken child, bleeding child.

No, she never stood a chance.

When her very existence was nothing less than

an unplanned circumstance.

She was fragile, she was weak.

Having been silent for so long,

she’d forgotten how to speak.

Where were you, may I ask?

Her Guardian Angel, when she needed you the most?

When she begged and she pleaded,

before the dam of hell and despair broke?

She tried, but she couldn’t do it on her own.

Carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders, and hers alone.

It was all just too much.

She couldn’t take it no more, she’d had more than enough.

She stopped desperately pleading and asking for help.

She swallowed her pride; she gave up.

Having run out of reasons to save herself.

Like a ship in rough waters,

Destined to sink;

fated to drown in depths, hundreds of feet deep.

Now the light in her eyes has forever ceased to shine.

And her life has become an insignificant collection of moments,

all frozen in infinite time.

Broken child, bleeding child.

Lying lifeless, there in the ground, six feet down.

For not one person cared nor dared enough to step in,

Raise a hand, interfere,  or even ask why.

No, they just stood idly by.

While her soul began to wither

And slowly die.

Unbeknownst, at the very same time,

the world grieved the loss

that her short life on this Earth brought

and humanity, it cried.

For this broken world in which we live,

filled to the brink with our sins and our lies.

 And we’re missing what’s right in front of our eyes–

all the warning signs.



D.O.A — A Poem

I’m sure by now you’ve heard the rumor,

its probably making its way ’round that godforsaken town, no doubt.

How I packed up all I own

In the back of that Jeep Cherokee.

And headed South, to Tennessee.

Leaving everything and everyone

That ever meant a thing to me.

Needing to get away and to be free

So desperately.

Tearful goodbyes,

Pleading and persuading me to change my mind.

But not this time.

No turning back,

No looking in the rear-view mirror.

As I make my grand debut into the Real World.

With a heart so heavy that it physically hurts,

And the determination to make it work.

When that Friday morning came,

I drove off in the mix of snow and rain,

With nothing to lose, and everything to gain.

Knowing from that moment on,

Nothing would ever be the same.

That was the moment, the day, my whole life changed.

In hindsight,

If only I had stayed.

Maybe it wouldn’t be this way.

But I had to leave.

I had to get away.

‘Cause nothing here was ever gonna change.

And I couldn’t keep living my life this way.

Ashamed to go out, to show my face;

forced to shoulder all the blame.

The people in this town, they’re all the same

They’re gonna think what they want,

believe who they want

No matter what I do or say.

It’s always going to be this way; they’ll never change.

The way I see it, I had a choice to make.

I could choose to stay; continue to hide and bow my head in shame

Or sever ties with this town and run away.

I chose to escape.

With a suitcase and a dream

Said I was gonna find out what it truly means

To be young, wild, and free

Free from all the pain and memories

Free from him.

Free from this town,

All of it, everything.

Driving down the Interstate

900 hundred miles between where I’m going

And the place I once called home

Staring out at the open road ahead

Feeling somewhat lost, torn apart inside

Like something’s missing

Like something isn’t right.

Close my eyes against the blinding white light

That now fills my line of sight

As I flash back and wade through all the moments of my life

The good and bad

The happiness and strife

All those milestone moments that shape a life

A broken record with no music.

The perfect euphemism for my life.

I try to swerve, turn the wheel to the right

But I swerve a second too late.

No walking away this time

Neither luck nor God can save me now.

Can’t find traction, I’m spinning out.

A grief so raw and new,

Like petals on a recently-bloomed flower  

And reassurances don’t hold water

When you’re down to your final hour

And pity means even less

When you’re the body lying on the table

A tragic Jane Doe

Whose name no one knows.

All those dreams that now will never be.

 So much potential that the world will never get to see.

A split-second decision, one sharp swerve to the right.

A victim of fate on that dark night.

Lifeless and cold.

No chance to grow old.

No hope of survival.

A nameless Jane Doe

Declared dead on arrival.



Merry Christmas (Twenty-Fifteen)

Merry Christmas y’all!!


Can we just pause for a moment here so I can lament on how absolutely surreal and crazy it is that it’s already December—correction, the end of December? It’s unreal. I don’t know where the time goes, I really don’t. Add to that, the fact that we’re quite literally on the very cusp of a brand new year—2016—well that just makes it all the more surreal. Seriously people…where did the year go…??


And to think that this time last year, I was in the midst of packing my things in preparation for my big move down to Nashville. I can’t believe an entire year has passed since then.


But it has. And it’s been one hell of a whirlwind of a year, that’s for sure. I’m not going to lie–I had my doubts about moving 900 miles away from literally everyone and everything I’d ever known and starting over in a brand new city completely on my own—I did. Honestly, I didn’t think I could do it. I’d given myself a few weeks—a month or two, tops—before I went running back to New York, tail between my legs, so to speak. I expected the glitter and excitement of being in a new place to wear off. And that I’d grow weary of city-life and having to sit in rush hour traffic for almost an hour just to get my daily caffeine fix (**because I’ve GOT to have my iced coffee and the DD on Fesslers Lane makes THE best iced coffee in town–and also happens to be the only 24 hour joint around for miles**). I was afraid I wouldn’t fit in or make any friends—the real, honest-to-goodness kind like some of the ones I’d left behind in New York. But more than anything, I was afraid of failing—that I’d be given this incredible opportunity—heck, that I’d worked like hell for and earned—to go to such a wonderful city and I’d just somehow screw it up like I’d done with most every other good thing in my life up to that point. That was my biggest fear. And if we’re being completely honest, sometimes it still is, just a little.


Suffice to say—AND THANKFULLY, I MIGHT ADD—all that worry (or most of anyhow) was for naught. I’d already fallen in love with the city when I’d previously visited in April to tour Watkins—it’s such a beautiful place, how could I not—but I think I fell in love all over again once I hit those city limit signs. As fate would have it, just as I hit the city, the song “Home” by Daughtry came on the radio—ohhh, I kid you not—and it was the best damn sign I could have been given right then. It couldn’t have been clearer in telling me that I’d made the right choice and that Nashville was right where I was supposed to be. As crazy as it sounds, it really did feel like I was home. And now here we are–here I am–a year later, and that feeling hasn’t changed. If anything, it’s only gotten stronger.


As guilty as I feel to admit it, I’ve never been happier. I’ve made friendships that I’m confident will last for years to come, and I’m beyond grateful for that. In a sense, they’ve become my sort-of stand-in family…and while they can’t replace my actual family, it helps knowing they’re there if need be. I met a sweet, kind, and probably the most understanding man to ever walk this earth–especially to put up with this distance the past few months with me here in NY and him back home in TN. I’m just beyond anxious to head back and be home–and moreover, to see everyone.


I’ve been given so many incredible opportunities that I never would have even imagined in New York. This whole Hollywood and movie-making business—never in a million years did I imagine being a part of that whole world. Heck, even if you’d told me last year that I’d be here…I probably would have laughed in your face. It’s just so…not ME. Or at least it wasn’t, I should say. I guess I have fate to thank for all of this—for putting myself and my friend Alan in the same 2-D class. After all, that’s how and where it all began—the two of us becoming fast friends, bonding over our shared dislike of the Professor-from-HELL and all but a few select classmates in the class. To recap from there, he’d written a screen-play and was planning to make his first film. Knowing I was a photographer, he asked me to take some BTS pics of the auditions. It was just for fun. Nothing special.


From that point to where it stands now…it’s all pretty much a blur. Now I have contacts and credits in the film industry that I never expected to have—and still can’t believe I have. I’ve been on an actual film set and have seen just what goes into the making of a film…and I now have the utmost respect for the actors and actresses out there that do it for a living. It’s not exactly an easy job, despite how it looks from the outside. And the days are long. I was the set photographer, so I was there for the whole of it—and there’s a lot of waiting. It takes a lot of patience. A LOT OF PATIENCE. What came most unexpected to me is how much I’ve actually liked what I’ve done. I didn’t think I would. I mean, granted, there’s some parts that I really don’t like. For instance—the diva-bitch actresses who think they’re–as my friend Alan would say, “The Meryl Streep(s) of Nashville”— and as such, are in desperate need of a hearty dose of “reality check”. There’s a lot of conniving and underhandedness, too…but I think you’ll find that with anything. For the most part, though, I’ve enjoyed the experience. Word on my freelancing is spreading and I’m getting offers for sessions and websites left and right—it’s all kind of crazy. A good crazy.


Of course, there’s the not so great misfortune that’s come with this year as well. The little hiccup in June with the accident and the damn concussion that has really done a number on me, in more ways than one. It’s unreal how your whole life can change in a split-second…and it did exactly that. It’s like someone pressed the pause button on my life that day and it’s only just recently begun playing again. I don’t have my life back, not completely. I’m trying to get back to it, slowly. It’s hard when you’re still trying to wade through the pain of a pounding headache day in and day out. I have all these damn meds—seriously, there are 6 different pills—that I’m supposed to be taking every day. They’re supposed to help with the headaches. They barely even touch the surface most of the time. And I hate taking them because they make me really loopy—you know, that whole out-of-body, noodles for limbs—kind of feeling. That’s no fun on its own, let alone when you’ve got a splitting headache to boot. So I’m trying to work through the pain. It’s a process. And it sucks. But really, what else can I do…


All in all, I’ve come so far this year…further than I thought I’d be. And a great year it’s been. Headache and stressors aside, I couldn’t be happier. I can’t wait to see what 2016 brings…


And on that note…a little Happy Holidays from the two–and my absolute favorite–(little) leading men in my life… (**You’ll have to excuse the Jake cranky-face–the little guy was in no mood for pictures or presents…but even sporting a pout, he’s still a little cutie pie!**)



(**Oh, and did I mention, these little cuties just celebrated a birthday a couple of weeks ago…TWO already! How is that even possible? It feels like it was just yesterday when it was just the three of us all day, everyday…when my nerves were shot from weeks of sleep training and episodes of Dinosaur Train and Daniel Tiger on repeat (*I still know the theme songs to both by heart btw*)…and every smile or smallest feat was cause for an impromptu photo-shoot. Now my Twinnies are turning into little men and I just want to scoop them up and never let them go and just make them stop growing. 😦 **)



Humanity By Way of A Tweet

In the wake of the tragic shooting that occurred yesterday in San Bernardino, I got into a Facebook exchange with a friend last night that resulted in a flurry of well…absolute ridiculousness, to say the least…and ultimately, my deletion of this individual this morning. While I realize everyone is entitled to their own opinion and certainly, to broadcast that opinion on his/her own social media page–I have a very short tolerance for individuals who like to propagate their own agenda of bullshit negativity and cynicism–especially when they try to use a tragedy as a platform or backdrop to do so. Call it a pet peeve of mine.

Anyhow, so this individual essentially posted some b.s. status about the ineffectiveness of society’s use of “thoughts and prayers” in light of tragedies, such as the one that just occurred in California. Of course, he wasn’t the only one to do so. In fact, this little post has been making the rounds on my social media newsfeeds all day that more or less mimics what he had posted, albeit with a slightly more direct agenda targeted at–you guessed it–gun control and politics.


Now, don’t mistake me for some sudden religious freak that feels “God” can save us all–because let’s face it, even if there is a “God”, I’m pretty sure he’s washed his hands clean of the human race long before now–or we wouldn’t be in the predicament we’re in. So, taking “God” and religious out of the equation…I’d like to focus on the whole “meaningless platitudes” sentiment.

“Meaningless platitudes” … of course is in reference to anyone who uses the phrase “thoughts or prayers” in response to something horrible like what happened in that building in San Bernardino yesterday, or in Paris just a few short weeks ago…you get my point. While I’m not the religious type and “praying” isn’t really my cup-of-tea, I honestly don’t see the point in faulting a person or person(s) for wanting to express their sympathies online to the victims and those affected. Will the victims themselves see these individual sentiments–probably not. But to just discount the fact that there are people all around the world that–although they’ve never met those victims and probably will never know them beyond their photos and names on some media or news outlet–they still sympathize…is just wrong. These “meaningless platitudes”…as they’re being called are–for worse or for better–proof that there are good people out there. People who care. People who feel for and sympathize with other people not because they have to, but because they choose to. There’s this quote–though I’m not sure the speaker of it–that goes “Being human is given. But keeping our humanity is a choice.” And it’s so true.

What happened in California…what happened in Paris…what’s happening in Syria, Iraq…the list goes on and on… it’s not something that can just be fixed with stricter gun control laws or more hard-hitting politicians, as the above-mentioned post seems to rally for. Sure, do I think we need stricter laws in terms of gun ownership–hell yeah. People can say what they want about the 2nd Amendment and how it’s “our right” as citizens to arm ourselves…but that’s not what the 2nd Amendment was created and intended for. We have a right to protect and arm ourselves, yes. But there needs to be limits and people do need to be held accountable. The 2nd Amendment wasn’t created for people to go out and buy an arsenal of weapons and stockpile ammunition–LEGALLY–to then use against other innocent civilians. I mean, most of it is common sense. I mean, what did you really think that individual with the long history of mental illness and the shady dealings and possible fundamentalist/terrorist-ties was going to do with all those guns and all that ammunition–save it for a rainy day? Come on, people. But even with stricter gun laws–it’s not going to solve the problem entirely. People are still going to find a way to get the weapons. You’ve heard the saying, where there’s a will, there’s a way. There are evil people in this world who want to spread their evil and hate and sadly, they’re winning. They’re winning because they’re getting the good people to turn on one another, to discount even the smallest acts of humanity.

Now, I can’t speak for everyone else, but I can speak for myself when I say that by posting a sympathetic tribute to honor the victims of a tragedy…it’s with the purest of intentions. The Facebook exchange with my “friend” was in reply to his untimely negativity and uncalled for cynicism, first and foremost, and secondly–to counter his assertion that “such sentiments are made to made the individual posting said posts “feel better”. I don’t know about the rest of you, but conveying how I sympathize with and grieve for the loss of life and the injured in yesterday’s massacre didn’t make me feel better about the situation, not in the slightest. And that’s because I know that the bloodshed hasn’t ended. It might be a day or a week or a month from now, but they’ll be another story, another senseless tragedy that fills up our television screens. More photos and names of innocent people will flash across our screens, their lives cut short because someone(s) somewhere CHOSE evil over doing the right thing, over humanity.

We’ve got an epidemic of violence on our hands and it’s up to all of us to do something. Whether it’s showing your humanity in a tweet or a status update or just doing something good for someone else … all those so-called “meaningless platitudes”, when you break them down in their barest of form  … they’re a glimmer of hope for humanity. And right now, I really do think we can use it…and not just here in the U.S., but the whole world…

At least that’s how I choose to see it.




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