I wonder what dreams you gave up so that we could follow ours? I wonder how much pain we caused, and yet you never complained. And what about before us, when you had your own first family? You provided shelter, comfort food, and stability when you lost your own mother so young. That must have been hard, and yet you carried yourself with grace and grit. You have been carrying
I’m done with the trolls and their hollow, spewing hateful opinions. I am over the ambivalence. I’m done with people who say they don’t care about politics, only the value of their stocks, guns and the art of the deal. I’m done with friends and family who live under the crowded veil of ignorance. I’m done with the bullies, the posturing, the greased palms, the narcissists. We won’t recover from
I had the craziest dream. Sweet Gardenia blossoms grew immense enveloping firestorms and chaos, masquerading all traces of ash and burn. The intoxicating scent of sweet perfume permeated the clean air, creating nursery rows of safety bubble greenhouses. A young girl’s innocence remained pure and virtuous. Flowering freedom rained dewdrops of kindness. There were no guns, no mass graves, no starvation, no rape, no death. No dead children. No hate.
Believe that you are better than Money Power Greed Hate Terrorists Trump NRA Bullies Shady Politicians Believe that if you haven’t lost someone you love To Mass Shootings You are blessed, the lucky one Pretend it won’t ever happen Pretend it’s impossible Pretend doesn’t work much these days It can’t happen? Not today, not in your town, not in your house The one safe space And then indulge me Close
Precious heart you don’t fool me Not everyone is good, not everyone is kind Precious heart do not worry your sad little boombox beats Or tragic flatlines It’s a half hearted day like all others For better or worse I’m tired and my head hurts I’m not a good person some of the time I’m blood sour and thick Precious heart, you’re just a pump You feel me The most
I look back on the road with no regret, humbled and in awe of where I have been, and the horrible days lived. I look cautiously towards the future, with trepidation, anticipation and hope. I would want no other me, no other life. I walk the path alone, without the ghosts and fantasy. Just a girl, a simpleton, beat up and worn down by a mind she can’t control, dancing
I am told the brain feels no pain, no pressure. That is only half-truth. I have experienced a different reality; never exposed to screaming silence quite like this. I’m scared out of my mind imploding from the inside. I make ballsy, hasty decisions to beat down the bullshit, chemical imbalance. Humiliated, I lie alone on a gurney, port in my arm, the tacky acrid green plastic band too tight around my
Carny Days What difference do the mad genes make when everyone is running? The speed of my thoughts makes up for the snail pace of the body. I pray one will balance out the other. The monotony of the same old, boring tedious routine gives structure to the wandering head. The walkabout has come to a screeching halt; words escape me, unsure of the new pace. Diamonds dance and stars