The Journalrey

So I decided to enter all of the old stuff into this log, many of them are handwritten in pencil and fading away. Entered some of them once before into an old word processor courtesy of an old friend, in whose honor this website is titled “This will be the writings of one fine lady” Thanks B. Swanson and R.I.P

In the entries to come I will enter the past and hope to come out the other side, see you there.


so what do we say when they naysay, when they say what they say, when they say that we should have said something sooner…


but if they don’t die soon enough, then something might happen that causes us to speak up.

when you say that someone just brought out the memories to hurt someone well that is not true, do you really think someone wants to share something so humiliating



Poets don’t know where to start maybe we have broken hearts no one knows the pain of art. Poets don’t know who to please we don’t have heart that come with ease we hope to share so we can breathe but you will never know the breeze. Yes this is the least I might proclaim yet better than the latest find.

Tha Nu Reality

There is a man who gets me. He’s lookin for me and he’s not dead. He will be grateful for the awesomeness that is me. To those who never appreciated me fuck off and die. To those hardcore bitches you are my heart. For all those I gave up you never stood up. Loss to the victor who wins by leaving.

The Secret

Wonder why the writing never gets done, wonder why we can’t fully disclose. Still tryin to save Cosby, waiting for them to all die, IDK, but when I do decide to write the story, probably they will all be dead and gone so they can’t hurt me anymore (she).