My Poetry, Uncategorized

Hand Over Fist- in The West-Ends-Bump

My guy stays high

up on that hill making

sand into water

the key to his stone heart

is where the damn of my mind

spins over his jaw line


there’s a holy girl I see

walking on the heat of summer

but he’s bigger than her

crunching ice like glass, cracking


back to the house,

we are cooled off

in the four a.m. sheets

i brace myself

on my familiar, his territory

for his next big push come punch


afterwards, i only nod ok


Hand Over Fist- in The West-Ends-Bump (a req prompt) by KS

Toksyczniby mjumi

Toksyczniby mjumi



My Poetry


I never knew you to be kind or what my name sounds like drenched in your pride.
I don’t know you to be gentle in your conversation and I’m starting to forget what your eyes look like in the morning.
You put me on a plane, handed me a one way ticket and my in flight refreshment was the hope that I can still taste, although now bitter and rotten. It’s amazing to me how one man can be so many things but never what you imagined.

-imagined by Kelley Stephens

My Poetry, Uncategorized

Talk To You Soon

There will come a time I will ask you if I smell like death.
My life might have started to resemble ripped stitches.
Sometimes the world slaps me so hard it feels like I’ve been cut.
This is the reason I wear makeup so thick.
I vomit while laying on my back, the flies lay eggs in my mouth.
Maybe I will choke or my questioning of death will come out as a gurgle.
Suppose that’s the only way I can get you to answer.


-Talk To You Soon

by Kelley Stephens


the_agony_of_the_fly_by_deathwish mixed with  flies_on_a_wire__by_lithp

mixed with