Love comes in many
Forms, it doesn’t
Have to be sexual.
The concept of love
Is different for each and
Everyone of us.
Some love to touch,
While others love to talk,
Hear the reassuring sound
From the words that come out.
Love is expensive and expressive.
It’s addictive but don’t get it twisted,
The words “I LOVE YOU” don’t mean shit.
Love is a feeling that is revealing through
The ears, the eyes, can be touched from
Vibrations of the frequency of the voice.
Once you hear that certain noise,
Ears perk up like a dog, now you’re filled
With joy. Even the scent can bring some
Love as your brain ignites and triggers
A wonderful feeling from inside.
Love struck like lightning from deep
Inside my mind, I had to express Myself.
I’ve felt love from plenty.
I’ve showed love, also experienced
& expressed it gradually.
Without loving myself,how
Could I show it,
Love is diverse
& driven from Emotions.

Dear Fear,

I immediately regret using a cordial word like ‘dear’ in my greeting. I have zero friendly feelings toward you. You freeze us in our tracks. Fear, you are a giant speed bump on the roads we take to self-actualization. You keep us from getting close enough to the people who need us, as well as those who can help us overcome you.

Choosing one fear to write about in an uncertain world full of trepidation is difficult. I reject some of the bigger and darker fears that people have. Death doesn’t scare me. I can’t summon up fear for a one-time event that is inevitable for us all. It will happen. It’s all of humanity’s destiny. And once it happens, it’s possible we’re not even going to know or care. It’ll be over, and our book of life, at least in this realm, will be closed.

Fear of failure is a popular choice of many, but I’ve never feared failure. Perhaps I’ve fallen short so many times that I’ve become inured to failing. I’ve always believed that if you’re not failing, you’re not trying enough. So, come at me, failure, and I will give you a great big hug.

Way back in 1974, Jim Stafford had a Billboard-charting song titled “Spiders and Snakes” in which Stafford sings of his dislike of the title creatures. They perfectly describe you, my fear. I don’t literally mean creepy, crawly spiders and slithering snakes, although I will admit that coming across a hairy spider in the basement or a snake ready to nip at my ankles in the garden are not my favorite experiences. Maybe if I lived in Australia, where most living creatures are ready, willing, and able to kill humans without any provocation, actual spiders and snakes may scare me. But I live in the USA’s Midwest. Most spiders and snakes I encounter are benign and harmless, except for the figurative ones.

I’m referring to “spiders” like:
“It’s going to take too long.”
“I’m not creative enough to come up with ideas.”
“I don’t have the skills to do that.”

And to “snakes” like:
“I just don’t have the time.”
“I’ve never tried that before.”
“I don’t know how.”

I fear falling prey to those “spiders and snakes” far more than a hairy spider crawling toward me while I’m sitting in the bathroom or turning over a garden rock to find a snake. I much prefer a small bite that will surely heal (again, I’m in the US Midwest and not Australia where almost every living creature is poisonous) to the crippling power of the metaphorical “spiders and snakes” that can stop our lives dead in our tracks with fear. I always try to be kind to animals, but I have no qualms about squishing my symbolic spiders in a tissue of determination or whacking my figurative snakes with a club of resolve. I hope PETA will cut me some slack and look the other way as I dispatch the imaginary creatures representing my actual fears.

And so, I have eschewed fears of death, failure, shark attacks, tornadoes, IRS audits, time share contracts, and buying life insurance, and I have settled on the ever-present metaphorical spiders and snakes in my life as my greatest fear. I can’t carry a tune to save my life, but you can always count on me to sing along unabashedly with Jim Stafford, proclaiming to the world that we both don’t like spiders and snakes.

With great disregard,

88% Style Score

My biggest fear is all in my mind.
Thinking of all the things that should’ve been left behind.
The things that I just can’t seem to let go of.

The things that have set up shop in my mind.
Keeping me from absolute freedom,
and making me feel as though I’m stuck in time.

The would haves.
The should haves.
The could haves.

The times I didn’t speak my mind,
to address things that crossed the line.
The boundaries that were not developed,
and the ones I was afraid to use for my protection.

Silently taught to keep quiet and let things be.
Shhh…. don’t rock the boat or create waves in the sea.
The sea being life.
Just do what’s right and sweep those feelings aside.
Everything is going to be alright.

Not being taught to acknowledge, embrace, and accept my emotions.
Keeping those things tucked away,
as I put on a brave face and faced the day.
Just focus on the things that give you an important place in this world.
Not understanding that my feelings are the most important things in my world.

Unresolved issues cause emotional trauma.
Spreading like wildfire,
affecting all facades of your life and causing unnecessary drama.

My biggest fear is being trapped in this state.
Realizing that unresolved issues might be part of my fate.
But, like any other challenge in my life,
I’ll look this fear in the face and give myself grace.
Conquering my fear will mean letting go of the things I can’t control
as I honor the things that free my mind and feed my soul.

(100% Style Score)

Prowriting Grade: Goals 68% Improvements 67%
It doesn’t like poems apparently,
and that is likely a good poem in itself, once written….

WHO WINS

Taking a photograph
of an empty picture frame
arranging the ponderosa pine boards
a wooded surround meant to be exactly right
around the nothing inside of it
fretting over the far off, distant speck
that could be a house or ranch
might be too much
subject matter in the photo,
everything had to be
Just Sooo…
or the addict would seek refuge
in the addiction
and the fight between the not-addicted
vs the addicted personalities
now stand eye to eye
nose to nose
the fighting almost starting
with the addicted’s steely little eyes
in a slanted head staring
into the focused non-addicted eyes
looking straight back
that is fraught
with an orange, determined compassion.

There, a cute woman
looking at me
short upturned nose
she was a part of something bigger
than herself.
She filled me, breached my stone redoubt
wanting a respite
even tho she pulled me towards her
with a silken rope
bit away from
but towards-to
hailing from me and returning
to me. We were both naked
making the intense attractions o much stronger
and dancing some primeval waltz
that energy exchange
alluring in close contact moist
nakedness bouncing, wiggling
wild hair not covering much
this intense attraction between us
to bond us,
“I am An Addiction” she says in a soft sexy, alto voice
finger slowly motioning to come hither
“I call to you to follow,
participate.”

Sometimes the addict wins
always the non-addicted is aware
of the hungry yearnings, the orgasmic attractions
each incidence is an empty frame tho
surrounding distance composed
wether, or not,
into a fretful awareness
of a grey, cloudy decision
on that perpetual blackboard,
was that another derision?
Or, just another carefully chalked mark
one two three four crossed slash-mark makes five
on the Self’s scoreboard information.
None of it a literal depiction
and nor is it a literary description
this being, the Self’s realization.

Dear Fear,

You’ve been lurking in the shadows, creeping into my thoughts like a cold, unseen presence. I thought I could outsmart you distract myself with distractions, tell myself I’d get to it tomorrow. But tomorrow never comes, does it?

You show up like an uninvited guest at every moment I shine. You whisper that I don’t deserve to be here, that I’m not doing this, that it’s only a matter of time before I get exposed. You’ve made me question my worth more than once, turning my achievements into shadows of doubt. You convinced me my success is nothing but a fluke, and I am nothing but a fraud waiting to be unmasked.

You’re the one who stands in the doorway, tempting me to stay in my comfort zone. You distract me with “just one more scroll” or “ one more episode.” You are always patient, like a slow poison, convincing me that there’s no need to rush. But deep down I feel your grip tightening, the hours slipping away, leaving me with nothing but guilt and missed opportunities.

But today- today, I’m taking my power back, you may be a shadow, but I’ve learned that shadows only exist because of light. I’m the light. And I’m done hiding from you.

I’ve stared you both down long enough. I know you’re not as powerful as you seem. You can whisper all you want, but I won’t be silenced. I’ll push past you, step by step, and I’ll make my way to the future I’ve been too afraid to claim. You might still show up, but I’m no longer letting you dictate my story.

Watch me. I’m doing this.

Sincerely, a future that’s no longer waiting.

Prowriting Style Score: 79
My Fears: Imposter Syndrome and Procrastination

What’s “Love at first sight” for me, you wonder?
It’s the sight of seeing “the lineup” to my favorite musician.
It’s the squeal of “they’re coming to our town” heard across the room.
It’s the desire of “oh my gosh. I need to buy tickets.”
It’s the sensation of “tickets purchased” throughout the nervous system.
It’s the “can’t sleep” process the night before.
It’s the “day of” adrenaline rush that’s used as motivation to make the day go “faster.”
It’s the “beep” of ticket being scanned to enter the arena.
It’s the “look around of approval” that the night is going to be a good night.
It’s the “stop mid performance” to take every ounce of appreciation into vein.
It’s the “this is my song” moment that captures the mood of the night.
It’s the “adoration” of everyone singing just as loud as the person next to them.
It’s the “angelic sight” when everyone is just as relaxed as you are.
It’s the “heartache of knowing” the last song of the night was just sung.
It’s the “gratitude of the night” knowing it was a success.
It’s the “concert hangover” the next morning when reality sets back in.
It’s the “can not wait till next show” blues that settle in until the next show!

Style Score: 100%

Dear you;

My love. My kryptonite. My coldest enemy and my warmest embrace. I never thought I would be yours. People say that you fall in love in certain ways, and I may have acknowledged it, but I never actually believed it to be true. Yet here I am, palms sweating at the thought of lacking your presence. At first you were a subtle love. I played it cool. We didn’t get together that much, and I never called you during our time apart. It didn’t take long for me to fall head over heels in love with you. The way you took the breath out of my chest. The way I could feel alive in your presence, and the nights that we would spend together, learning everything about one another. I will never be the same after meeting you. This will now be my life as I know it, and YOU gave that to me. You opened up parts of my mind and my soul that I hadn’t known existed before. You enveloped me in courage, confidence, and motivation to be better. You uplifted me.

At first. You helped me through my long work days, and you pushed me to get through my roles as a mother until I was finally allowed rest. At first. You taught me how to have fun again, and how it felt to be amongst friends. At first. You taught me to be responsible, and how to build and maintain the best possible life for myself. At first.

But shortly afterward, you started changing. You started changing me. My night shifts were easier, but my roles as a mother became more and more scarce. Soon enough, after CPS involvement and harsh words exchanged between the fathers of my children, I got the girls less. Even more so after my children were traumatized by the person you made me become. I lost them. My babies. Eventually, my job followed suit. Soon enough, it wasn’t fun anymore, and I saw more evil amongst the snakes disguised as friends than I had ever witnessed prior to you. My life started to crumble before me like shattering teeth as I lost every bit of my self esteem. Eventually, I crashed. Into the pits of what most may call rock bottom. You watched me smash into it’s dark, cold, lonely, fucked up pit, and instead of grabbing my hand and helping me, you laughed at me. You mocked me. With the most sinister smile, you reminded me that they had all warned me about you, and I hadn’t listened.

I knew you would break my heart. I knew you would leave me weak when you took my strength, lonely when I ruined every relationship around me just to keep yours, broken from when you influenced me to make these stupid decisions. You weren’t there for me when I fell down the way that you promised you would be. As I look around, I am on my own. The only people present are the ones asking me if I am hungry, because my homelessness is now suddenly so obvious. The families feeling sorry for me because they know what I am lacking, or judging me, because my absolute need for you is becoming physically apparent.

I put my trust in you. Gave my life to you, methamphetamine. You did what every single person told me you would. You grabbed ahold of me and you dug your claws deep inside of me. You held on for dear life and you watched me ambush mine. You sat back while I self-destructed and turned myself into an empty shell of the person that I used to be. You stole my sunshine. You stole my kids. My home. My job. My family. My friends. You made me depend on you, and you taunt me every fucking day of my life. Those that don’t know you should feel fortunate. Because you are a monster. A beautiful, vicious, exciting, terrifying existence, and I wouldn’t wish you on my worst enemy. Yet here I stand, with you in my daily routine. Learning more and more new ways to experience the absolute fucking euphoria that accompanies you for those few moments after we connect. Shaking, nauseated, in physical agony, and desperate for you when you are gone. I love you, and you fucking hate me. You prove that to me every day as you assist me in letting go of one more piece of myself.
I will never forget you, but I need to say goodbye.

(Style Score 77%)

You made yourself known
To a very young girl
Who wanted to dress up
Play with high heels and pearls
She asked many to join her
But was shut down, forgotten
So slowly but surely
She shut her heart down and locked it
She was desperate, pathetic
In need of attention
So she did things to get it
That I would rather not mention
That young girl grew up
And she made a mistake
She let down her guard
And she let her heart break
She didn’t ask him to stay
She was taught at a young age
Never beg one to be there
Humans aren’t meant to be caged
The bump on her belly
Made no difference at all
And when the blood started coming
He never even called
Just the same as that girl had
She felt worthless and weak
She was embarrassed and shut down
Puny and meek
From that day going forward
She did what she had to
To ensure you weren’t present
She had to avoid you
She became a chameleon
And transformed as was necessary
To feed the needs of her suitors
Her friends, or her family
Here’s the thing with rejection, though
It has no worthy contender
Because you are inevitable
Even to the very best pretender
The best she can do now
Is dress in high heels and pearls
And to break that whole cycle
For her own little girls
To show them they’re worthy
Loved, and accepted
Because one really suffers
When all they feel is rejected.

(Style Score 100%)