Twisted Rhymes From A Twisted Mind


Morning comes, and everyone is eager

quickly they rise out of bed

but I never want to

abused and refused by the words of those

who said they knew me best

face straddled by hips of a lonely, lovely silence

beautiful to the point of pain

writing down the words inspired by raucous love

has me going insane

I see her alone in the shower

on a quiet weekend morn

and I want do her all over again

with strength gained from heartache reborn

travel up her spine with fingers moving all the time

we both get so turned on by the games we play

on each other’s minds

tongues twisting in each other’s mouth

drowning ourselves in a sea of organized panic

swimming in depression derived so long ago

that the stench has genitals turning rancid

releasing anger pent up by years

beating, pounding

until she’s a bleeding ball of reckless waste

reduced to puddles of sweat and inches of blood

from my younger days

Oh, who am I kidding

it’s just me, no girl

she’s just made up in my mind

to pass the time

and inspire another one

of my twisted rhymes





Darkness Abounds In The Pretense of Light


Darkness abounds

in the pretense of light

the sun shining

casting down rays fanning out

to scour the land

snipers pointing motionless rifles

into the scorching desert sand

shadows to rise because of light

behind exalted altars of misinterpreted power

and shortsighted ingenuity

they take the sons from behind

strangle them with the same ropes

the light had tied to them

while they wasted away as slaves

an uprising not surprising

the dark takes back the light

every night

but this time, there will be no sunrise

except for heaping pile of stones

made from the pyramids they were forced to build

and upon it the shadow slaves

exalted not an idol of gold

but upon the peak

the highest sun rose

forcing the tip of the triangle

through his back

black blood poured over the lands

his heart was lifted up

as a whirling cacaphony of praise

turned the blood into a tsunami

that drowned everything in its path

the shadows pulled hoods

over ghastly, metallic faces

and ascended towards Orion

God’s will complete


Two Blogger Awards In One: Mystery and Versatile


Thanks to Just Me ( and  1WiseWoman ( for nominating for the Mystery Blogger Award and Versatile Blogger Awards two weeks ago, respectively.  Just Me is already one of my favorite bloggers, thanks to her beautiful (and sometimes amazingly sexy) poetry and wonderful sense of humor, while 1WiseWoman has been a blog devoted to strength, awareness, and support of those with mental illness. As Just Me is also an aspie, I can really relate to each and am grateful for the kind words they leave on my blog. YOU LADIES ROCK.

In addition to Cocoons’ nomination for the Blogger Recognition Award, it’s been an AMAZING week for the blog, and I am too eager to use this time to once again say THANK YOU to ALL my readers. Whether you’ve known me since August, or followed me today, you’ve made this all possible.

Rules For The Mystery Bloggers Award is:


  1. Post the award logo/image on your blog
  2. Thank whoever nominated you and give a link to their blog.
  3. Mention the creator of the award and give a link as well.
  4. Nominate 10–20 deserving bloggers and notify your nominees by commenting on their blog.
  5. Ask your nominees any 5 questions of your choice; including one weird or funny question.

The rules for the Versatile Blogger Award state that you thank the blogger that nominated you, nominate 10 other bloggers (and a link to their blog) and list 7 interesting facts about yourself.

Firstly, lets answer the questions from Just Me

1.  Name one thing that you do that always feels right, no matter what.

In the words of Edgar Allen Poe, “With me poetry has not been a purpose, but a passion”

Where do you draw the most inspiration for your blog?

Life on the spectrum, depression, Fall Out Boy, and girls
Who is your favorite anti-hero and why?

Batman without a question. As an aspie, I really relate to his ability to do work from the shadows and be extremely focused and to the point.
4.  What is the inspiration behind the name of your blog?

It’s the summation of what you might call my writing. Nothing fancy here.
5.  And, finally, what is your favorite genre of music?

I really don’t have a favorite genre. I have favorite artists, but my tastes vary too much to like one specific genre. If I had to choose, it would be rock because of FOB. But I also admire Lecrae (rap), Lady Gaga (dance-pop), and Demi Lovato (pop rock).


Now, seven interesting facts about me..

  1. The longest I’ve had a friend is four months.
  2. I’ve drowned two smartphones
  3. Live in Baltimore. Never had a crabcake.
  4. Took voice lessons when I was eleven
  5. Mandy Kay is my favorite model
  6. I pulled out two teeth once because it was fun
  7. Blonde girls are my type

My five questions for my nominees

  1. Favorite country?
  2. Stranded on an island and you can only have one thing, what is it?
  3. Beyoncé or Rihanna?
  4. How do you eat French fries: ketchup on top, or on the side?
  5. Name one guilty pleasure

And, for the nominations…(to save time, the nominees are for each award)






One More Night


One more night

one more time

I don’t know what to tell you

so let me put it in a rhyme

even as a poet

there are days when I don’t know what to say

the well runs dry, clouds hasten in forgetting to rain

and my mouth hardens and cracks like clay

some nights she won’t even look my way

so I take my pillow sulking

and on the couch I lay

there are some days I write little

but never not at all

writing is my breath, my air

and without it I will surely fall

I don’t know I lived

before I began writing

maybe that’s why I wasn’t

fighting everyone I came across

because I didn’t know what to do

with the anger pent up in my head

now I love my life

and can finally talk to you

well, let’s save that for another time

I’m still a terrible conversationalist

so one more night, one more time

I hope you enjoyed my rhyme




Dawn leads

to a shiver

and a fright

here comes the morning light

the demons are bold and brave

sexless and reckless

and they come out in the light

everyone expects them

to torment souls at night

but isn’t it more fun

to come out during the day

and seem like the angel

you dreamed would save your life?

Demons don’t want to kill

they have no interest in murder

then how could they ever

torture you further?

Longevity is the key

to getting their desire

they are the cool rain in your fire

and the summer sun in your cold

they become one with you

nearly love you

and you fall in love with them

die with them when you’re old

I don’t resent demons

I resent angels

the ones that make everything good

the ones that are always telling you

everything will be okay

demons keep life real

keep the world honest

telling you no matter how much you know

you never, ever got it

demons are bred from honesty

because if they told you life was bad

wouldn’t that defeat their purpose

demons need angels

to make everything seem good

so you lose sight of reality

and that’s where demons come in

and usurp through practicality

when you realize life isn’t what it should be

How do I know so much?

Maybe you’re talking to one

The War Of Poetic Conviction



waging endless war

against my unwavering condition

arrows of all kinds

and sizes

fly through the air in mass

darkening the sun as it rises

tipped with oil, tipped with fire

they rarely kill

but injure greatly

designed to cause will to waver

and crumble when the infantry

comes later

day and night the siege rains on

they cannot hold this city

but for so long

no food to re-wire my mind

no fountain to make me young again

cutting off my life support

the empty space I need to breathe

sanity drains from my mind

through an eternal sieve

even my blood turns a cold shoulder

like I’m afraid of living

the days of old

just when the night seems to end

the moon folds it’s hand

sneaking a cunning glance

at the sun and stars

as he pulls his winnings in a pile

the dawn turns towards the deceivers

eyes reddened with intense flame

with searing pain destroys the enemy

from this son comes poetic conviction

that topples the medical profession’s

worthless predictions

tone and diction, I’ve got it in my hand

to rally my soul brothers and sisters

it’s all part of my plan

The Good Doctor and Christian Wolf be damned

I’m tired of seeing us misinterpreted

given superhuman traits

just to make a cute story

our story isn’t for your entertainment

rather our struggles

cause lifelong derailment

tell them I’m coming

I’m going ham


Would You Rather Be The Disease Or The Cure


Quiet room

never empty, never full

always wishing someone

or something

could find in it a use

sitting in the heat of summer

and the cool of winter

initials carved in the bed frame

remind the emptiness how much he misses her

dust collects on unattended shelves

as the shadows take off their masks

and rest in this somber place of dwelling

windows rust, and sight into the world

becomes anyone’s guess

not even the Titanic herself

compares to this tragic mess

how one can fall

from the height of life

to lows

even zombies couldn’t comprehend

caught up in a whirlwind of love, lust, life

and feigned shots at immortality

does anyone even know what’s a sin

would you rather be the cure

or the disease

doing wonders behind closed doors

or all-powerful at the expense of every living thing

don’t pretend

don’t pretend


Midnight Loving


GREAT NEWS: My poem, Pleadings Against The Preposterous, has been nominated for the Spillwords Publication of the Month. It would be amazing if my piece was selected, so go here to vote


Midnight kissing

blinds us from seeing the door

pushing you backwards in the shadows

of blinds left half open

onto a desk

pictures of graduation ceremonies shattered

now shut up and breathe


now harder, faster

I shatter every once of fantasy

graduating from hand holding

I’ve stolen third base

lip locked loving

has your heart at any speed

but idle

first the camisole,

then whatever is underneath

I don’t care about clothing

let me stoop down and bite you

then lower

with two fingers

on the inside of a tiny muff

you lower your head, hands on mine

I’ve just thrown you the hottest curve ball

but instead of walking off in disgust

you beg for more


you dirty whore

crying for inches to arouse a watery paradise

I hate to hold my head under water

but I’ll drown for you

in you

turning over to reveal

a bottom so wide

it would make Bear Bryant blush

susceptible to the draw

let me draw myself inside

and burst a gaping hole

into an open field

I can only feel my way through

blindly punishing

I hammer for minutes on end

then I release

energy concealed in consent

white light of my body

in your mouth

do I clense




The Monster Inside A Child


I’m the one
they put on poles
with reward written in red
lipstick from the sex slave
they mark the hunted
adulterated youth and broken sense of trust
defiled by the brutality of humanity
crawling through the night, I only drink
from the puddles underneath dirty tents
or what collects on windshields
fists buried deep in pockets
head hidden under a black hood
nobody sees the eyes
burned from reading degrading comments
those who share a last name
the tears sometimes carry me home
when my feet can’t take the streets anymore
the people won’t let me walk with them
children turn away
teens kick rocks my way
I’m a freakshow, an outcast
and their barbs sometimes can’t be outlast
but someone was different
they took the key
opened my jail cell
no price, no fee, no tax
just an open door
another shot at life
don’t shy away from the bullets
light a flare and wave it on a hill
that’s me
the heathen
washed up, dirty, and unwanted
to anyone but my fellow autistics
I’m all but forgotten
crazy and careless
mentally disabled
but self enabled
to make you aware of this
you don’t know the aspergian
sitting next to you
why anxiety and depression
is sitting next to you
don’t ask
what we might do to you
don’t look into my eyes
look into the barrel
hope I’m empty
emptier than the space that’s in my heart
wishing for parents who knew my name
or a friend that I could say
I’m glad to see you again
when you’re angry
and depressed
when you try to live
try to love
but life’s a mess
sometimes it’s easier
to just press reset

What You Could Be To Me

Sitting on the edge

of a busy road

humidity climbed out the back window

a girlfriend uninvited by parents

unfortunately temporary

rain makes the sky clear

and a calming breeze

wraps around the essence

of chocolate donuts and espresso

I picked up from work

thankful for my coworkers


and wonderful customers

they make my job ever more enjoyable

and while they don’t know who I am

(maybe they do)

(that’s okay too)

I’m grateful they care regardless

as dark as I’ve felt

as troubled my thoughts are

as alone I feel I am

and as behind I feel to be

some people make it worthwhile

there are people I’ll get up early for

pretend to be open and happy for

smile for

extend a hand for

and if I close enough to you

care for

there’s very few people

I feel this way for

but they’re one of them

and you might be