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My Body Is Home

I am feeling my soul re-entering my body

my body is not only an offering

but an altar.

I have spent this last year 

not surrounded by bodies 

no longer having anyone else 

to compare myself to.

After a year of isolation 

I now am picking pieces of broken mirrors 

gluing them to a wall 

I now want to see myself.

I am no longer hiding,

I am the sun 

my body no longer a prison.

As it’s getting warmer

I am displaying my body 

as a deity of self-love 

my soul lifting as the heat rises,

in this summer season 

my body now feels like home.

Body: Text


I am a husk of what I used to be

a field after the harvest

a memory of bounty.

I went on a journey of self-exploration

to only get hopelessly lost

when I look back at my past self the woman I so desperately wanted to change

she was a superhero

she was fearless,

she was art from the murals she painted

to the curves that blessed her body

she was fat and beautiful.

I wish I had been taught that those things are not antonyms but can be wedded so beautifully

now I get lost in counting calories

resentful of hunger

I am entwined in stitches

clawing at a body I don’t feel like I own.

No one ever dared but to call the old me anything

other than beautiful,

now I am just a dress size

questioning my beauty, my value

this new body isn’t home

it’s a prison sentence.

I used to be a superhero

I used to a bird, accidentally clipped my own wings

lost that spark, put out the fire unknowingly

Can I ask you a question?

How do you relight a fire,

after you accidentally extinguish it?

Body: Text

Store Bought is Fine

They say you can not buy happiness

What a privilege that statement weights

Those who do not think money has not one once to do with happiness

Have never been without food or a home for a night. 

Or co pays for doctors fee

They say you can not buy happiness

The clique that homemade is better then store bought. 

If you can not buy happiness

Can you be prescribed it? 

Does my little bottle invalidate me 

I do have to buy it after all

It’s been a few generations

No one in my family has seem to get the recipe quite right for happiness 

Buried in vices and words unspoken 

That creak as loud as floor boards in my grandmother’s house 

Maybe my family just never knew the recipe

If my happiness needs assistant 

Is it not as good as home made happy?


I am here to make a proclamation 

I am here to tell you that the store I bought is fine. 

Can not make your own serotonin?

Store bought is fine

It does not matter if it comes wrapped up in blue pills or in yoga Matts

Your self love your happy has no boundaries 

If homemade is the only authenticity that will be accepted

Then I am an imposter of good times 

Maintaining my happiness 

Is filled with doctors and pill bottles 

and knowing my limits 

I am okay with my prescribed assisted happiness

Because if this isn’t authenticity happy

The joy I can now feel that fills in my gut 

And swells until it almost burst then my chest

 If that is all an illusion 

It stills feels better 

Then my authentic despondency .

Body: Text

Flowers in My Rib Cage

Used to feel weightless around you 
Gravity settled back into my bones 
Planted seeds of delusional love 
Was to wide eyed and distracted 
To notice the soil filling my lungs 
Flowers like bloodroot in my veins 
and bleeding hearts sprouted 
through my rib cage 
Poisoning my mental state 
Gasping for air Choking on petals 
Respiring with the taste of 
Gravel caught in between 
My teeth 
Caught like words
That I shouldn’t have allowed 
To leave the tip of my tongue
Gravity settled into my bones again 
Has me sinking beneath the earth 
At first I couldn’t breath 
Now I’m hoping that what was planted 
Beneath my rib cage
Blooms and beats again

Body: Text

Cosmetic Idolatries

Carved myself 

Out of the clay of my old body 

Statue state of self Loathing

Couldn’t stomach myself 

Bariatric solutions 

Lifted weight from my chest 

Carved out parts of my ears 

I hadn’t been listening to 

My Inter deity  

Scars like constellations 

Tell stories 

Of my self love journey 

No longer breaking mirrors 

Cut off locks of hair 

To know my femininity 

Isn’t entwined in pony tails 

Talk to me like a goddess 

Before you walk into my temple 

Dietty vanity 

entwines into a confident reality 

Don’t touch my crown 

I break necks not hearts 

Self admiration 

Looked down upon in this society 

Dreamed as a seven deadly sin 

Lusting for who I want to be 

Pride in who I am becoming 

Cosmetic Surgeon savors 

Friendly reminder 

Cosmetic procedures

 if done for your self love 

Is an act of triumph

Noting shameful 

In becoming 

Your own godess

Body: Text

Cosmetic Savior

You have been judge 

By the Eurocentric gods 

Of fashion 

The social court is now in session 

Vogue emotion

Your sins were being fat 

Speaking out, not being a cookie cutter 

Copy of your peers 


Self Crucifixion  

Under the surgeons knife 

Resurrection in a new vainglory 

Filter feed 

Off of praises  

Diet of diet pills 

Hide the scars from surgeries 

 Cover your sins of being less than perfect 

Kiss me with your pouty 

Silicone injected lips 

Appropriate big thighs 

Break men’s necks 

While they break your hearts 

Did you realize 

Stiletto struck through your heart 

This was the price you were willing to pay 

For glory 

Body: Text

Portion Sized Words

Wish my mother taught me portion sizes 
I took to much in conversation 
Have a hard time not talking 
Wish I had been taught 
A dose of silence is okay 
Wish I had known 
What portion sizes were acceptable
For serving your trauma at the dinner table 
Pour too much to quickly
You’ll turn people away 
Portion sizes 
Would have helped me know
Someone who speaks over you 
At any capacity 
Is not worth ingesting 
Ingest me 
In my entirely 
I am a one servicing size is the entire package 
Do not need to cut myself into peices
Bite sized 
For you to sink your teeth into 
Lowered my voice because 
It was to loud to be swallowed 
Wish this had been a lesson passed down 
from grandmother to mother 
But if it has to start with 
Let me teach my daughter 
The biggest rule In portion size is 
If your soul is still hungry 
In the presence of a lover
They are not the one 
And if someone tried to cookie cuter you 
Into bite sizes pieces for their pleasure 
Let them choke on your entirety 
You are not to be  
Made smaller

Body: Text

Self Love Hunger

Extracted pieces of my body
In efforts to find myself 
Removed my stomach 
Felt let it through my chest 
Ate myself into abosety 
Unable to decipher 
My spiritual hunger from physical
Unsatisfied Voracity
Food like poison 
Calories like nooses 
Health depleting 
Food unlike lovers
Never told me it stopped loving me 
Emptiness sat beneath my rib cage 
Laying in my gut 
Bitter bites of learning 
I can’t tell you the day I woke up 
No longer craving poison 
Sit myself in pews 
Buy myself flowers
I've been nutrishing myself  
With self love 
Because I got tired of feasting on 
The emptiness of self hate

Body: Text

Mirrors and Bleeding Tongues

I am,

carving out my own tongue

with broken glass. 

From mirrors I broke 

in anger at my appearance.

I am, 

stitching together 

new words 

accompanied with my name 

like beautiful, and enough, 

worthy of love.

I am, 

forgiving my past self. 

Using kind words 

past self only

spoke the language she was taught.

Ones deeply rooted 

in misogyny, and fatphobia

sugar coated 

and wrapped tightly in phrases like,

“You’d be pretty if you lost a little more weight.” 

I am, 

learning a new language 

kinder words and whispering it 

to the reflection I see.

Body: Text

Baseball Bats and Shattered Glass

I am breaking up with mirrors with a bat.

Shattered glass covers the floor

homage to self-love.

I am cutting ties with counting calories

I am cutting the throats of those who ask

“Should you be eating that?”

My bones are sturdy

I am my own home

you should be grateful you can perceive me.

I am breaking up

with the mirage I see

when I look at the mirror

and do not love what is looking back at me.

I am a temple,

 tribute to the goddess inside me

she lies between my ribcage

I am picking up the shattered glass

and looking at myself

without the influence of others.

I am breaking up

with the self-image of me

that was never meant to be.

Body: Text
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