Murder House

Enticed by a price

Cheaper then any other

For a house of grandeur

Whose outside was beautiful

The inside hid great and dreadful horrors

Horrors that make your insides twist

Make what you’ve eaten want to come out

Yet, you didn’t know so you bought

You bought and for a while All was fine

Till you heard scratches in the walls

Screams you’d thought were nightmares

Crumbs appear where you’d thought you’d cleaned up

Things disappearing and reappearing where you didn’t have them placed

You convince yourself

I’m paranoid

Everything is fine

Yet the subtle insanity creeps into you

Until things escalate in slow calculation

The smallest drop of blood on the carpet

A scratch on the wall your sure wasn’t there before

Loud breathing above you as you sleep alone

Yet you still think it was a dream

Then suddenly it grows bolder

You have scratches on your body

Bruises you don’t remember receiving

You step on a piece of shattered glass

Yet you hadn’t dropped anything since you arrived

You start your bath and leave to get something to eat and you come back to scalding water

You run through your mind every small event

They twist into each other and your mind starts to crack

Broken lights that shouldn’t be broken

That one drop of blood to that stench of urine

The stench you’d smell sitting in the living room

Your hand holding the remote searching for just the right thing to watch

the crack becomes a fracture and you put your head in your hands

You scream and scream and you hear laughter and you scream and scream and tears fall as you scream

When it comes for you from behind you had finally gone quiet, but it whispers in your ear

And then it leaves you alone

Because it is not done playing

You’ve had enough you try to leave

You make it outside

Spend a week away with a friend

Then you come back

Because it sounds like a nightmare and you’ve never before been afraid of the dark

That was the last time you’d ever leave that house

And the monster laughs and laughs and laughs

Thanks for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little poem. It was fun to write. Let me know your thoughts down in the comments below.

-Till next time!


Taking the slow steps of a doe out of a cage and into the forest legs shaking, mind wondering, fear showing in the quiver of matted fur, the mind questions if it is all a trick?

In the grand expanse of a world beyond pain a nose picks up the scent of fresh grass for the first time.

Slow steps forward follow slow steps back until finally the doe is out of the cage and the doors shut behind her.

Every sound is awash with twin thoughts of skittish fear and awe.

The world seems almost too bright for her; the music of the wind, so soft causes her panic.

Yet every moment brings new peace and slowly she walks until she comes upon a stream.

Her nostrils flare and she bends her head drinking fresh clean water for the first time in her life.

Finally she allows herself to bathe in the shallow stream and as the water cleans her fur she starts to prance her heart beating fast with hope.

Her tail wags and her hooves clack against the stone bottom in a happy dance.

Into the night she finds herself shelter and food to eat.

She sleeps a peaceful sleep and her nightmares are chased away by imagined days of prancing.

At last.. At last.. at last the doe is free.

The hunter far away.

The doe dancing in a world where she’d never be seen again.

Thanks for reading! This is a poem that has been one of my absolute favorites to write. When I found the first words everything just started to flow. I miss feeling like that while writing poetry.

Let me know your thoughts down in the comments!

-Till next time!


Let me take all of your inhibitions and shake them around till they chip into fine dust and blend with your fears, your happiness, your memories, and get lost till you can’t find them anymore. Let me absolve you of the pain, the guilt, the tension, the worry. The stuff I want to reach inside and and tear away. The stuff that makes you think your undeserving of love. Let me shake you up and when you don’t know what’s up or down I’d stop and I’d turn you and you’d see the man that I’d see because finally the puzzle would fit and you’d be whole.. not because of me, but because of you. The chains you’d tied into every bit of proof that you were worth nothing.. chained into rocks on the floor.. chained to the walls of your house, chained to the center of the earth.. I will cut away.. cut and cut and heat and pry away until you were free. I wouldn’t let you sleep afraid.. I wouldn’t let you sleep angry, upset, or lonely. Should your eyes close and the guilt eat up and try to hold you in your nightmares I’d wake you gently. A gentle shake for you to remember where you were. Let me jump and dance my feet over the things that fill you with fear till there is nothing left because the gravity and the vibration and the weight of me destroying the weight of your searching thoughts. Let me shake you. Let me shake you.

Thanks for reading! It’s been a long time since I’ve shared a piece of poetry with all of you. All this time I’ve been writing it everyday and yet it took me till now to share one. I used to try and share one once a week. I missed it. I hope you all enjoyed this and I would love to hear your thoughts!

-Till next time!

A Taste of My Current WIP

Right now I am working actively on two different stories. My fantasy novel and a poetry collection that is like a fragment book of memories, thoughts, and emotions that deals with growing up, my family life, dealing with anger and depression, and the struggle of wanting to be someone other then myself.

I want to give you all a taste of that project with the poem I wrote for it today. Something that I would love to hear feedback on!


It is the night that inspires me and under its darkness I have said the things that were both my greatest thoughts and harshest twists at my families expense.

Everything is heightened when the world goes down into silence including my anger including my desire including my pain.

How could I allow myself to say the things I have said when my mom’s face grows sour, my tears inconsolable, the pieces of myself being cut away.

I don’t know this midnight monster I see in the mirror with it’s tears on display and it’s teeth sharp ready to speak with a voice tinged in the blood from which it stabbed its own gums.

It is the night where it comes out and I choose to dance or I choose to let it breath and when it breathes it kills and while it hurts those I love it kills me slowly slowly I lose my breath my mind my need to exist.

Yet my savior comes in a small still voice of the little girl who knew the same pain yet tried and tried and tried and so for her I continue on I swallow the breaking pieces of teeth and I let the tears become small specs of salt shining down my face.

I scream I’m sorry forgive me I’m sorry

I’m trying I’m trying I’m trying

I try to accept my deserved untrue “it’s ok, it’s not a big.” deal like a large and burning pill.

Even when I want to fight it the answer my thoughts my actions the reactions… I was the the monster and monsters always get what they deserve.

Thanks for reading! Let me know your thoughts down in the comments.

-Till next time!

Joint Review: Milk and Honey + The Sun and Her Flowers

Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur

My Rating: 4 Stars!

Cover Rating: 8 out of 10! I love the minimalist design of this cover. It matches perfectly the sort of illustrations found inside the book. It’s beautifully made

Publisher: Create Space

Publish Date: November 4th, 2014

Number of Pages: 204

Received: ebook purchase

Purchase: Amazon


Rupi Kaur’s milk and honey, is a New York Times bestselling collection of poetry and prose about survival, the experience of violence, abuse, love, loss, and femininity.

The book is divided into four chapters, and each chapter serves a different purpose. Deals with a different pain. Heals a different heartache. milk and honey takes listeners through a journey of the most bitter moments in life and finds sweetness in them—because there is sweetness everywhere if you are just willing to look.

Favorite Poem:

I love this poem so much not truly because of what it says, but for the image it’s paired with. Something about it makes me feel at peace. It makes me feel like I just need to keep going and one day all will be ok.


Milk and Honey was about losing someone and being hurt by the world and what it means to be a woman. The expectations we place for women’s bodies and how we are meant to use them. It makes me to think that a book like this exists. The reason that this was a 4 Star and not a 5 Star was because there were various parts that I couldn’t quite connect to and felt a bit general instead of something that was more unique as a sentiment.

The Sun and Her Flowers by Rupi Kaur

My Rating: 5 Stars!

Cover Rating: 8 out of 10! The cover is very fitting for the title. I like the artistic expression this cover shows. I really like it!

Publisher: Andrews McMeel Publishing

Publish Date: October 3rd, 2017

Number of Pages: 256

Received: ebook purchase

Purchase: Amazon


From Rupi Kaur, the #1 New York Times bestselling author of milk and honey, comes her long-awaited second collection of poetry. A vibrant and transcendent journey about growth and healing. Ancestry and honoring one’s roots. Expatriation and rising up to find a home within yourself. Divided into five chapters and illustrated by Kaur, the sun and her flowers is a journey of wilting, falling, rooting, rising, and blooming. A celebration of love in all its forms. this is the recipe of life said my mother as she held me in her arms as i wept think of those flowers you plant in the garden each year they will teach you that people too must wilt fall root rise in order to bloom

Favorite Poems:

This poem brought tears to my eyes. It is beautiful because it gives ode to all who have come before. It is beautiful to imagine that your life is to live with all your might carrying the pride of the women that have lived and endured carrying you through everything. To make them happy so that they live through you.

This is another poem that saddened me. The best and worst of our lives seem to be terribly mirrored. In life and in death we gather together and in grief how are we able to always tell the difference?


The Sun and Her Flowers is a much more mature collection then Milk and Honey. The Sun and Her Flowers is healing and thoughtful and written with culture and hope in mind. This collection is a celebration of living where milk and Honey lived with despair.

Both collections are written with the power, beauty, and strength of women in mind. They are the building up of women and the rejection of old thoughts that still cross societies mind to this day. It is the new generations version of progress without bringing anyone down, but solely picking people up.

These are feminist and righteous and beautiful. I greatly enjoyed these poetry collections.

Thanks for reading! If you haven’t already I would definitely recommend you read these two poetry collections. They are very insightful and wonderful. Let me know your thoughts down in the comments below!

-Till next time!

WWW Wednesday

Hello everyone! It’s midweek once more and it’s time to catch up on. What I’ve finished reading, what I’m currently reading, and what I will be reading next. Let me know your answer to these questions in the comments!

What I finished reading last:

The Sun and Her Flowers by Rupi Kaur

From Rupi Kaur, the #1 New York Times bestselling author of milk and honey, comes her long-awaited second collection of poetry. A vibrant and transcendent journey about growth and healing. Ancestry and honoring one’s roots. Expatriation and rising up to find a home within yourself.

Divided into five chapters and illustrated by Kaur, the sun and her flowers is a journey of wilting, falling, rooting, rising, and blooming. A celebration of love in all its forms.

this is the recipe of life

said my mother

as she held me in her arms as i wept

think of those flowers you plant

in the garden each year

they will teach you

that people too

must wilt




in order to bloom

I loved this gem of a poetry book. My favorite poems were the ones dealing with immigration. There were poems that brought tears to my eyes.

Currently reading:

S.T.A.G.S by M.A. Bennet

Nine students. Three bloodsports. One deadly weekend.

It is the autumn term and Greer MacDonald is struggling to settle into the sixth form at the exclusive St. Aidan the Great boarding school, known to its privileged pupils as S.T.A.G.S. Just when she despairs of making friends Greer receives a mysterious invitation with three words embossed upon on it: huntin’ shootin’ fishin’. When Greer learns that the invitation is to spend the half term weekend at the country manor of Henry de Warlencourt, the most popular and wealthy boy at S.T.A.G.S., she is as surprised as she is flattered.

But when Greer joins the other chosen few at the ancient and sprawling Longcross Hall, she realises that Henry’s parents are not at home; the only adults present are a cohort of eerily compliant servants. The students are at the mercy of their capricious host, and, over the next three days, as the three bloodsports – hunting, shooting and fishing – become increasingly dark and twisted, Greer comes to the horrifying realisation that those being hunted are not wild game, but the very misfits Henry has brought with him from school…

So far this book has put my stomach through a lot of trama. I have no idea what’s about to happen in this book, but boy does it have sick and twisted down pat.

Free to Fall by Lauren Miller

What if there was an app that told you what song to listen to, what coffee to order, who to date, even what to do with your life—an app that could ensure your complete and utter happiness?

What if you never had to fail or make a wrong choice?

What if you never had to fall?

Fast-forward to a time when Apple and Google have been replaced by Gnosis, a monolith corporation that has developed the most life-changing technology to ever hit the market: Lux, an app that flawlessly optimizes decision making for the best personal results.

Just like everyone else, sixteen-year-old Rory Vaughn knows the key to a happy, healthy life is following what Lux recommends. When she’s accepted to the elite boarding school Theden Academy, her future happiness seems all the more assured. But once on campus, something feels wrong beneath the polished surface of her prestigious dream school.

Then she meets North, a handsome townie who doesn’t use Lux, and begins to fall for him and his outsider way of life. Soon, Rory is going against Lux’s recommendations, listening instead to the inner voice that everyone has been taught to ignore — a choice that leads her to uncover a truth neither she nor the world ever saw coming.

I just started reading this book, but even though I don’t think it is meant to be unsettling how much it mirrors life now is insane. I could see something like this happening in the near future. We are all stuck to technology like it is the air we breath already. If technology began to dictate every single aspect of our lives I wouldn’t be surprised.

What I will be reading next:


Flynn: At first we were almost strangers. But ever since I moved to New York, Amos was the one person I could count on. And together we were there for Poppy. (I mean, what kind of parents leave their kid to be raised by a nanny?) I just didn’t expect to fall for him—and I never expected him to leave us.

Amos: I thought I was the only one who felt it. I told myself it was because we were spending so much time together—taking care of Poppy and all. But that night, I could tell she felt it, too. And I freaked out—you’re not supposed to fall for your stepsister. So I ran away to boarding school. I should have told her why I was leaving, but every time I tried, it felt like a lie.

One missed flight was about to change their lives forever….

This book is miles from every other book on this list. I have no idea what to expect from it, but hopefully I enjoy it!

Thanks so much for reading! Let me know what book your thinking of reading next down in the comments below!

-Till next time!

The Ones Without Emotion

We are the generation of the digital proletariat

working hard for every Like, comment, and LOL.

We aim for angles, Little slivers of things, anything to make us seem more or less than who we actually are.

We are the democratic the snowflakes the ones who hold hands and raise our phones to commemorate the wrongs we will no longer let pass.

We are the soldiers at war fighting, penning our 80 character’s, threading on our most social bird.

We are the ones who stare at seemingly white screens laughing internally and giving away nothing.

We are the web the trolls the memes and the vloggers our time is for the views for better or for worse.

We are the mindless and the valiente the hipsters the woke educators the tired jets.

We remember for as long as the world seems to care and once the next thing is up we take arms for our new affairs.

We are the hope filled, the loved, the gay, we are more than 1 and 0 colored in RGB.

We are the gamers the nerds and the thieves the ones who battle on our VR TV’s.

We are the new and we are the Grave. We will always be fighting and we will always be brave. We will always be connected and we will always know what’s up. We will never back down. We will never give up. We are the ones who will pen forever from our screens. We are the digital age. We will always fight for what’s ours. We will always be free.

Thanks so much for reading! This is the first poem I’ve posted on here for a good long while. I hope you all like it! Let me know your thoughts down in the comments below!

-Till next time!

Growth: A Poetry Review

Growth by Karin Cox

My Rating: 2.5 Stars

Received: Free ebook off amazon

Purchase: Amazon


This collection of Cox’s finest poems—some previously published in anthologies around the world, others new; some rhyming, some free form—delivers beautiful sentiments, melancholy moments and some delightfully lyrical figurative language, all while charting the poet’s personal growth over several years.

While introspective, Cox’s work avoids self-obsession by interspersing political and broader global themes with the personal. What results is a whimsical anthology that brings to mind the challenges of just being human and fitting into a world that sometimes feels like a tight squeeze.


I didn’t particularly enjoy this poetry collection. The poems didn’t speak to me and I just couldn’t seem to feel anything while I was reading. However there was one poem that did get my attention and that I enjoyed and I want to talk about that poem and why out of all of them this one was the one I liked the most.

Picture of my Niece

She sits—a grain of sand, a shadow on the beach,

life’s haul of shiny, flapping things before her feet,

with eyes that tumble like the sea to childish thoughts and innocence beyond the adult reach.

Her pointed finger, parted smile,

a jaunty hat cocked on her fair-curled head,

I gaze at her awhile,

and my thoughts linger, on the fish she pokes, so still and dead.

Yet she is so alive, with so much joy, it radiates to me from far away,

and then I want to be near her, to tell them: “Perhaps I shall be back now any day.”

I enjoy this poem because of its dark imagery so drastically different from the other poems in this collection. The imagery something you don’t often think about or see and it makes it remarkably unique. However, I do not understand the point of that very last line that feels unnatural in the story of the rest of the poem.

I think that my only other problem with this poem and many of the others is that the poet writes her poetry like she is telling us exactly what it means instead of letting us come to our own conclusions. Her poetry is often too on the nose for its own good and while it has potential as it is now it brings the reader out from the story.

Thanks for reading! I do not often get the chance to review the poetry I read on my blog, but reading poetry is something I love almost as much as writing it. Let me know in the comments if your interested in more poetry discussions and poetry related content on my blog.

-Till next time!

Books of Christmas Future 2017

You never know what the world will bring. You can only hope that it will be something wonderful. The future is unforeseeable, but here are my hopes on how it will be.

Filled with books of sweet romance

With fantasy so my heart can dance

Also some books to make me cry

And others to bring me back to life

Maybe a dip into something magically real

Or something spooky to make my heart still

Maybe a long awaited series would be the biggest surprise

Or a copy of a book that I loved with every bit of my being

Maybe a classic to get to the roots of English

Or something thrilling to keep the mystery awake

Hopefully there will be some diversity

In race



& Identity

Hopefully I can continue some series

But in the end I will be happy with whatever adventures await me:

Thanks for reading! What books are looking forward to in the new year?

-Till next time!

Peluda: A Review

Peluda by Melissa Lozada-Oliva

My Rating: 5 Stars!

Publisher: Button Poetry

Publish Date: September 26th, 2017

Received: Netgalley provided an e-arc in exchange for an honest review

Purchase: Amazon


One of the most original performance poets of her generation, Melissa Lozada-Oliva has captivated crowds across the country and online with her vivid narratives. Humorous and biting, personal and communal, self-deprecating and unapologetically self-loving, peluda (meaning “hairy” or “hairy beast”) is the poet at her best. The book explores the relationship between femininity and body hair as well as the intersections of family, class, the immigrant experience, Latina identity, and much more, all through Lozada-Oliva’s unique lens and striking voice. peluda is a powerful testimony on body image and the triumph over taboo.


This poetry book is SO GOOD! The whole thing was this unapologetic look at what it means to be a first generation American and living in a world where cultures combine and touch your life to where your parts become nothing else, but human. However, Peluda is so much more then that. It is about being comfortable in your own skin and not being ashamed of who you are, even letting out your inner werewolf and being unafraid of being feral every once in a while.

There was one single poem that made this poetry book so much more to me and that poem was “You Know how to say Arroz Con Pollo but Not What You Are”. I finished this poem and I cried. I cried because even though her situation is the complete opposite of my own it felt like she got it.. got me. It was everything I had ever wanted to say, but in different words.

As it was World Poetry Day today I will share this poem with you all in full.

You Know how to say Arroz Con Pollo but Not What You Are

If you ask me if I am fluent in Spanish I will tell you

My Spanish is an itchy phantom limb: reaching for a word and only finding air

My Spanish is my third birthday party: half of it is memory, and the other half is a photograph on the fridge is what my family has told me

If you ask me if I am fluent I I will tell you that

My Spanish is a puzzle left in the rain

Too soggy to make its parts fit so that it can look just like the picture on the box.

I will tell you that

My Spanish is possessive adjectives.

It is proper nouns dressed in pearls and bracelets.

It is are you up yet. It is there is a lot to do today

My Spanish is on my resume as a skill.

My Spanish is on his favorite shirt in red mouth marks

If you ask me I will tell you

My Spanish is hungrier than it was before.

My Spanish reaches for words at the top of a shelf without a stepping stool

is hit in the head with all of the old words that have been hiding up there

My Spanish wonders how bad is it to eat something that’s expired

My Spanish wonders if it has an expiration date

If you ask me if I am fluent in Spanish I will tell you that

My Spanish is the smell of Windex, the tearing of paper towels, the flushing of toilets, the splash of a mop

My Spanish bites on a pencil in the corner of a classroom and does not raise its hand

My Spanish cancelled plans with you so that it could watch movies

My Spanish is my older sister’s sore smile at her only beauty pageant

My Spanish is a made up story about a parent who never came home

My Spanish is a made up story about a parent who never came home and traveled to beautiful places and sent me post cards from all of them

My Spanish is me, tracing my fingers along every letter they were able to fit in

My Spanish is the real story of my parent’s divorce

Chaotic, broken and something I have to choose to remember correctly

My Spanish is wondering when my parents will be American

asking me if I’m white yet

If you ask me if I am fluent in Spanish I will try to tell you the story

of how my parents met in an ESL class

How it was when they trained their mouths to say

I love you in a different language, I hate you with their mouths shut

I will tell you how my father’s accent makes him sound like Zoro

how my mother tried to tie her tongue to a post with an English language leash

I will tell you that the tongue always ran stubbornly back to the language it had always been in love with

Even when she tried to tame it

it always turned loose

If you ask me if I am in fluent

I will tell you

My Spanish is understanding that there are stories that will always be out of my reach

there are people who will never fit together the way that I want them to

there are some letters that will always stay silent

there are some words that will always escape me.

This poem is gorgeous, emotional, and full of so much raw truth. I know it is not one that would make most people cry, but for me after I first read it I was an emotional mess. I am someone who was born only being seen as a typical white girl to outsiders. However, I was adopted and raised into a Spanish family. I grew up in a way not connecting to any specific culture and so I don’t really feel like anything but a human being (I don’t really believe I can claim any specific culture or that I should claim one). However, I grew up hearing Spanish around the house and listening to mariachi music at fairs and eating tamales, pupusas, and huevos con chorizo. More then anything else I learned how to speak Spanish in the way of food, but I never became fluent and can understand far more then I could ever say. But for me it was the end of this poem that really got to me. There will always be words I don’t understand and so many stories that I will never hear and it felt like a great loss to me and the tears came. This poem was beautiful and in so many ways it broke my heart.

All of the poems in Peluda are filled with power. This is one of my favorite poetry books I have ever read and I hope that so many others find the beauty in it that I did.

Thanks for reading! Let me know your thoughts down in the comments!

-Till next time!