DislexicPoet Notebook
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🖤 From Water to Wing (The Dragonfly)
Some transformations are quiet. Not seen. Not celebrated. They happen beneath the surface — In places no one looks, In versions of ourselves no one meets. This poem came from that place. The part of life where you are still becoming, But it doesn’t feel like growth. It feels like waiting. Watching. Surviving. The dragonfly…
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The Mask We Wear — The Lie
There is a mask on the cover of The Lie. Not just for design. Not just to look good. It means something. We all wear one. The mask is the version of us The world is allowed to see. The calm face. The strong one. The one that says, “I’m fine.” Even when we’re not.…
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The Lie — Why I Wrote It
The Lie came from a deep wound of domestic violence that took a long time to heal. For years, I didn’t tell anyone. I was too ashamed. I didn’t want people to see me as weak. So I kept it all inside — Because that’s what I was taught: “Big girls don’t cry.” “Build a…
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When Numbness Becomes Survival
I Had to Shut It All Off There’s a version of survival people don’t talk about enough. Not the loud kind. Not the kind that looks strong or inspiring from the outside. The quiet kind. The kind where you don’t fight back — You shut down. This poem came from a place where feeling everything…
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The Same Fight, Different Battle
I’m 17 years clean and sober. People hear that and think the fight is over. Like there’s a finish line. Like one day it all just… stops. It doesn’t. The fight didn’t end — It changed shape. For years, the drugs and drink took everything from me. I was drowning in self-surrender, self-loathing, self-sabotage… all…
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I Don’t Write Soft — And That’s Okay
There’s this quiet expectation in poetry That softness equals beauty. That if you write gently, You write well. I don’t agree. Because the world I’ve lived in Has never been soft. It’s been sharp. Unpredictable. Unforgiving. And my writing reflects that. I don’t sit down Trying to sound pretty. I write what it feels like.…
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🪶 Why I Used a Word That Doesn’t Exist
I used a word that isn’t in the dictionary — “ortisized” — on purpose. Because sometimes, real experiences don’t have real words. Language is built to describe the world in neat, defined ways. But trauma isn’t neat. It doesn’t follow rules. It doesn’t sit inside clean definitions. So why should my words? “Ortisized” is not…
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Loss
Blog -Loss My spoken-word piece about loss, alongside Farewell Brother, comes from a place I can’t dress up or soften. This isn’t imagined pain. This is lived. The loss is deep — Built from years of a bond that was unbreakable, Full of sibling connection, The kind that doesn’t need explaining Because it was simply…
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The Little Bird Collection
Some poems come from stormy places. Others arrive quietly. The Little Bird Collection grew from a different space in my writing — a quieter, more fragile emotional landscape. These poems explore trust, closeness, and the delicate moments where connection becomes possible again. If Fractured Mind speaks about the internal battles we carry, Little Bird explores…
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We Don’t Heal — We Manage
I wrote this poem because I’m tired of hearing people say, “I’m healed.” Healed from what? Some things cannot be undone. What happened, happened. The body remembers. The nervous system remembers. The mind remembers — even when we wish it wouldn’t. Every wound leaves a scar. Yes, scars fade. But they are never completely erased.…