“Self Help to Self Harm: The Dubious Guide to Life, Love, and Relationships”- a review

Gentleman Writer

My friend, Tosha Michelle, is a woman of many talents. She is a gifted singer, writer, and artist. I am in awe of the skill she displays at all three. I would be happy if I could do one as well as she. In addition to her artistic talent, she is one of the kindest souls I have had the good fortune to meet. And her quirky sense of humor is the perfect finishing touch to her well-rounded personality.

She put her poetic talents on display in her book Confessions of a Reformed Southern Belle: A Poet’s Collection of Love, Loss, and Renewal.  She also showed the beginnings of a penchant for long book titles, but I digress… She opened up herself to her readers with the beauty of her words and creativity.

Now Tosha Michelle is back with her own unique take on the self help book: Self

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Self Help to Self Harm: The Dubious Guide to Life, Love, and Relationships.

I really hate self promotion. My friend Andy is a pro at it. I’m borrowing a page from him. Please check out my latest book

Self Help to Self Harm: The Dubious Guide to Life, Love, and Relationships.

Hey, I didn’t say the page I borrowed wasn’t obnoxious. The Bold and Annoying.

But I digress ( don’t I always?)

Self Help to Self Harm: The Dubious Guide to Life, Love, and Relationships. (can’t stop, won’t stop)

is a humorous, tongue-in-cheek look at life, love, and relationships, tempered by moments of serious introspection. This book won’t get you laid, help you lose ten pounds, cure your addictions, or draw you closer to God or Starbucks (whatever you worship).

Way to sell it, right? Hopefully, it will make you chuckle and cause you to rethink your One Direction hate.

You can purchase the book here:


If you like it,  I’d really appreciate if you would consider leaving a review on Amazon, GoodReads, and Barnes&Noble. If you don’t like it..well…keep that sh** to yourself. Kidding.

I loved a boy once.


I loved a boy once with soulful blue eyes,
and sandy locks that always looked delightfully disheveled.
I loved him for his quiet grace and honeysuckle tongue.
The way he kissed me with all of him.
The way I kissed him with all of me.
I loved a boy once when yesterday’s regrets didn’t exist
and tomorrow had yet to meet fear and doubt.
I loved a boy once..in the moment..on borrowed time
with stolen whispers and heart stirring sighs.
I loved a boy once with an exuberance
only young spirits can understand
One breathe
One heartbeat.
I loved a boy once.



The catch in your throat
The shutter of your breath
Eyes flutter closed.
Fingertips trailing
Supple skin exposed.
Stirring in me something,
base and primal.
The passion
Fuse lite.
I want.
I need.
Never enough.

I long to consume you in excess
until our limbs are exhausted,
and you have penetrated my body and soul
with a revered language only you and I know.



We’re a calamity,
a certifiable disaster.
There’s no serenity in the way we are going.
I try to be unbreakable and you unshakable,
but we’re splintered by the weight of words.
Shattered, jagged,
shards of glass,
pain and the bittersweet sting.
I see my soul in your eyes.
You’re just as fu**ed as I am.
Maybe we did that to each other
but somehow it feels right.
I’d rather walk in the fractured shadows with you
Bleeding, but alive,
than loll in the sun with anyone else.
catatonic and numb.

I think. I think too much.


I think. I think too much.

I’m chained to my brain’s chaos

My heart guarded but afraid.

Pain marred scars.

Tell stories of a sensitive soul

Lost in a high tide zone.

Battered by the currents of regret.

Burned by a scornful sun.

Thoughts swirl in endless motion.

Disturbing my equilibrium

Demons born on the waves of insecurities.

Hellions of a mind.

They reign, feeding on my weaknesses.

One day I hope to stage a rebellion.

Until then..

I remain a paragon of hypercritical introspection.