Posted in life, Poems, thoughts

— Your lungs– 

Your lungs 

paper-mache worlds caged by lonesome bone.

Your lungs

 lined with the smoke of your impermanence.

Your lungs,

faded pink, breathe in the words of great minds

that taught your heart how to live.
I think:

This world can only hold so much pain,

That humanity cannot refrain

from evil,

from billowing clouds of thought pollution


the  allure of dancing on life’s deflated lungs.
Your lung’s edges

 melanized like my contaminated  heart.

Your lungs

like clay that has yet to be molded by the hands of time.

Your lungs 

vast oceans of air 

that are oceans from mine,

tiny capsules of loss.
 It is said,  “Death is the mirror in which the entire meaning of life is reflected.”

And when I look into it’s crystaline surface,

all I see is the vacancy of breath upon breath

and your lungs

writhing beneath a cloud of stubborness.

Your  pretty lungs, 

haunt me sometimes.

-Eva M.M.

Note that the quote on death being a mirror is from,  “The Tibetian book of living and dying “.

Thank you all for reading and sharing your feedback and thoughts with me.

Posted in life, thoughts


First and foremost I wanted to say thank you to everybody who helped bring me here. Honestly, when I started at Trinity school I never thought I would make it all the way. I wasn’t intimidated by what lay before me or  lacking in any confidence; I simply could not see that the uphill climb before me would feel as effortless as walking across a stage with a diploma in hand until I stood beaming on the side of the stage. I can name on the fingers of just one hand the number of times in my life I have felt this free and joyful. I already know there will not be any moment as abundant in happiness as this for the next four years at least. I graduated! I made it through some of the hardest and yet most important years of my life.To all who have aided me though this journey, taught me life lessons I will carry with me beyond, and most graciously to everybody who had faith in me , helped me pull through, and held me up when I could not hold myself up. I can’t wait for the adventures that lay ahead, the uncharted lands and things yet to be learned. I cherish the bittersweet memories and look forward to sharing and creating new ones with you as I move on. 

This chapter is done.

My pen awaits.

With a warm and glowing heart. Thank you and hats off to the future.

– Eva M.Monhaut

“Me and the pen, we are one. If it’s ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.” 

Posted in life, thoughts

Adulthood and sickness.

First of all, I wanted to apologize for my long and unannounced hiatus from you the pen. No I am not suffering from the world’s greatest case of writers block, in fact, I feel like I have more things than ever to share with you. The reason I have been so distant is because I have been very busy with preparing for my graduation party and finishing up the last things that needed to be done at school but also because I just could not muster up the strength to open my computer and let flow everything that was whirling around in my mind. Today, coming back from school after a practice graduation run through and picking up my cleaned laptop, I decided I should share with you some of the thoughts whirling around in my head.

The other day I was lucky enough to be chosen by some mysterious illness that sprang up on me in the middle of the night and nestled itself into my system. The next day I thought I felt a little strange but crediting it to the overly spicy food I had ate the previous night I decided to go babysit. Turns out my immune system was on vacation and I was sicker than I thought. After putting on a movie for the children and numerous awkward shifting on the sofa sessions, I hurried home as soon as possible that evening. It is odd how when you are sick timing often happens in both the best and worse ways possible all at once. I was spared vomiting in-front of the two exuberant children but the minute I got home I knew this wasn’t just going to be a lot of uncomfortable stomach cramps. I will spare you the visual but what occurred for the next seven hours was a lot of noises, shifting around on the cold bathroom floor ,dehydration, and the motivation for this entire post, calling for my mother.

After I had calmed myself from the initial attack I realized I had lost a lot of water and needed to get something to drink. I stood up. Nope. Guess not. It was like that moment when you drive through a tunnel where everything goes dark and you are wondering why they don’t install better lighting in the tunnel because you are pretty sure there is some wacko invisible driver about to ram into your car. My vision blurred and darkened and everything went fuzzy. I figured attempting to make it downstairs to get a glass of water might not be the best option but my sister was working on the yard outside and didn’t have her phone on her and I doubted my cat would be helpful. I did what any sick person usually thinks to do; I called my mommy, crying, asking her when she would be home to take care of me.

Keep in mind, I’m at that stage in my life when everybody around me is covered in tears thinking about how much they are going to miss their families. Don’t get me wrong I love my family and I will miss them in my own Eva way but I have never been the type to get sad about something so freeing and joyful. I am more than ready to go out on my own and be broke and make terrible decisions like I do now and have to take full responsibility for them and then have to call my mom to ask her silly things like how to write a check or which brands of meat to avoid buying at all costs. Yet, people who know me also know that I am probably one of the most nostalgic people out there. So while I was wondering if my stomach would stay where it was supposed to or end up on our bathroom floor I realized, nobody ever seems to take care of you like your mother when you are sick.

I was thinking about all of the vomit my mother had to wipe off the floor, our faces, and out of our hair hair. I don’t even want to think about the other things involved with being sick. I cringe when  a kid hands me a slobbery toy, I can’t even imagine all the things my mom had to handle because of me. Sorry mom. I remember how she used to have us lie down in the bathroom near the tub and would bring us these tiny glasses of Gatorade every hour.

My mom finally got home and she made me some chai tea to soothe my stomach and brought me some more water to drink and I was thinking to myself this whole time: How do grown ups be sick.  How do people throw up without their mothers there to smooth down their hair and bring them something to settle their stomachs.  I am completely on  board the adulthood train and more than ready to go. I’m overjoyed! I just hope I don’t get sick because nobody takes care of you when you are sick like your mother.

-Eva M. M

Thank you all for reading, commenting and letting me know any questions you have about me and my writing. It is wonderful to be back sharing with all of you ink angels.

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”


Posted in life, Poems, thoughts

I let you (3.20.17 ) ( with audio)!

 I let you

I fear you,

repetition of repetition,

dazed and glazed.


darkness upon darkness,

destroyed me with your lust

for love

is an acidic cloud of doubt.

I fell into you,

thorned briars upon briars,


that whispered in the desert dim.

I embrace rank romance,

forbidden love, festering

words rotting upon the decay of flesh

upon flesh

knows not the radiance of forever.

I let you destroy

everything I stood for

I needed to feel adored,


There is no value in vulgar validation.

I wanted the moonlight

and the warmth of the sun

but drunk on the moon shine

and scorched by the sun rays,

I fell through time,

a slow unwinding

of sinew and bone.

I let you in

but you were never there

so I let myself out

and I, still waiting,

waiting to go home.

-Eva M.M.

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”

Posted in life, Poems, thoughts

Reflections on poetry and a friend from a foreign land on a rainy day.

Some things I can not know

like the scent of rain upon feather

or the sound of heartbeat enthroned;


or shall I say,



merely atoms and mutiny,

traitor to all–


in dingy corners


dissonant words,

all pungent,

saturated with the lacy odour of decay,

the fragrance of death and earth,

mushrooms and smouldering roses.


Thought paid to assassinate thought,

anilihate idea,

eliminate invention.


I am,

or should I say,

you are

the echo of glorfied heartbeat

comme le parfum des plumes qui glissent sur la pluie,

                                                                  know somethings,

not I…

Not I.

-Eva M.M

Thank you for reading and staying with me though I have been very distant lately. I have been both very busy and suffering from a severe depletion of energy even open my laptop even when I do have the time. So thank you for still reading and waiting patiently.

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”

Posted in life, Poems, thoughts


Creased hands

and beads of sweat

brave upon the cliff of your brow,

haunt me.

I feel the memory of being shattered,

set free against a hazy sunset.

I am bound even now

by the razor bladed trailing of your lips


scorched in the radiation of your sorcery

sensation beyond words, born in me,


like a cancer,

its tendrils sweeping across my canvas,

nerves wrapped around nerves,

we were breath upon breath.




No longer the flushed minx,

The nephimp who dreamt a thousand worlds



nude against the desert of lonesome bone,

severed sinew from weary lungs ;

I cower,

cradle tremble in tremble,

stare some nights on moonlit vacancy,

the mirrored reflection of my abandoned land,

undulating flesh that once,

streaked with the grip of youth,

now lies fallow,

Void of knowing.




no longer the symphony of movement,

the voice that spoke out in a moment of submission



timid against the tundra of crisp melancholy,

blurred noises upon subtle vibrations;

I close,

fingertips that shelter faded roses.

I fall some nights in revelatory ravines

in which I see only fragments of mirages,

veiled realities with the odour of smoke and deception,

smudged with the trailing of innocent betrayal.

I lie fallow.

Void of knowing.

– Eva M.M.

Thank you for reading and sharing your thoughts  with me. I love each and every one of you, my little ink angels.

Posted in life, philiosophy, Poems, thoughts

the carnivore

Two years ago

I embraced its fangs,

the shred and torment of its teeth,

the passionate pollution of it.

The carnivore ekes out it’s living

from the silver tears of youthful hearts

but it bows to one greater,

palmed paradise,


the cunning of laced skepticism,

blind rage,

and carnivorous letters read eagerly in dim light.

For I have a spliced heart,

divided infinitely

and through its trenches trails barbed wire,

the thorns of disregarded wisdom. 

It lurks in tangled shadows,

shifting shapes with eternal joy.

Still, we all buy a ticket

to drench ourselves in the honeyed sensulality of the carnivore.

-Eva M.M.

Thank you as always my little ink angels for reading and sharing your thoughts with me in the comments below.

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”

Posted in fragments, life, Poems, story, thoughts

oblivious ( i gave you…)

” I think I just might hate you for peeling away everything I thought I knew –but — but how would I know, after all, I live in deceit.”

He stands, stretching his legs. Oblivious.Goes on another day. Oblivious.There is always work to be done and dreams to be caught.

There is always the sweet kiss of oblivion

against your ruined skin.

I think I just might  love you

for stripping away everything I thought was there to protect me from going after the power of flesh.

And was this just another game for me

and another life lesson for you.

I am always wishing you all the best

and letting you hold your hand to my throat

while I cry and try to help you all the more.

Maybe I am better off admitting that I was never here to heal you

for how can I heal you when all I do is hurt?

Why am I always chasing after people who only spit in my face and tatter my skirt?

I gave you my words.

I gave you my mind.

I gave you my heart.

and after all of that

you left


that I had also given you

the only thing I cannot regret giving you.

-Eva M.M.

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”

Posted in life, thoughts

Fear: In children and in adults.

The other day I was babysitting again and had a lot of time to think about fear as I attempted to put the two kids to bed. The oldest refused to go to sleep because, he eventually confiding in me, he saw monsters in the closet. I can only speculate that those monsters were merely the shadowy forms of a coiled up sleeping bag and a box on the top shelf, which as I looked at them myself through his eyes seemed very monstrous to me as well. I, however, knew that they were just boxes and blankets and not, in fact, some monster that would jump out at devour me the moment my eyes slid shut. In that sense, anything that I could claim to be a fear of mine would seem more rational than the fears of children. The question that I mostly had in mind in that whole scenario was: Whose fears are more relevant or better put, whose fears are really to be feared. I don’t mean necessarily the exact situation of a monster in the closet versus my fears but rather things children fear in comparison to the things we tend to fear as adults.

We stopped checking for monsters under the bed when we realised they were inside of us.


What do I fear?

I fear: putting myself out there and getting hurt,


living a life I will despise and becoming the people I despise,


my thoughts,

my capabilities and my incapabilities,

never knowing what could have been,

that all I do is hurt, people…

to create a short and vague list. And I think most people, especially adults fear things along this line if not these very things.  certainly, there is no questions that these fears are valid as with other common fears. I have been told in relation to another fear of mine that it was childlike, that is my fear of spiders. I hear this a lot from people who do not have that fear which is technically more of a full blown phobia, that I need to grow up and pull myself together it is just a tiny creature. In one sense that fear is more rational because some spiders can, in fact, hurt you and the instinct for me to get away from danger kicks in and takes over. However, despite the more rational aspect of this fear and maybe how it is seen as more childlike could one not make the argument that the chances of me being harmed by a spider or to take the babysitting example, of some monster in the closet, are slimmer than the chances of me inadvertently hurting people that I care about. I think to stack those odds it is more likely that I will fail at things that the boogeyman will tear me to shreds in the dark of night, People get murdered all the time but the chances that one will get murdered despite that are rather slim. SO, does that not validate my fears, the so-called adult one’s and almost belittle those of children?

I think that answer to this entire question of whose fears are more real, is a question that cannot be answered here alone and I hope opens up a new platform of thought for you even if I don’t reach a conclusion at the end of this post. However, I do think that in some ways, though childhood fears are less likely to happen they are more valid. If we look at my fears, a lot of them are created by the illusionary fear, this idea that we let worm its way into our minds and set in its roots deep, taking over our entire mind. Yes, it is real and the pain and sorrow associated with my fears is real as well but if I learned to not fear those things bearing that pain when sometimes it will inevitably happen would not be so much of a burden. Though I am wording this very badly and not explaining what I mean to say in the best way, I hope that my point is at least being made. My point being: Adult fears are sometimes fears we create for ourselves because we misunderstand life but children though they do reflect and think deeply about things usually have fewer things to deal with, fewer worries and so fear more instinctual things and in that way, our fears being created and theirs more natural, I could say that theirs are more reasonable.

What are your thoughts/comments?? I hope maybe to explore this idea further with you later.

Thank you for reading and bearing with me through my muddled train of thought.

-Eva M.M

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease

to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”