My mother
is dying.
so I
bite off
my lips
for not
speaking,
my fingers
bloody
for not
reaching out
more;
drink
the organs
she gave me
stripped
and fatty.
maybe
this time
they will
heal new
and
those skins
Will know
what to do(?)
Unlucky Charms
they cut
you open
pressed
little metal
charms inside
between
delicate folds
of your vitals.
“i mean these,
these mean well.”
—
tried as
a witch
—
who knew,
once
persecuted,
those charms
smelt
kindness
into regret?
menticanic
a racing mind
can’t excelerate
without a course
to ride on.
the oil spots
leak down
through
your veins
pollute and
inflame
the muscles
with stress.
the cars
must be
put away
sometime.
clear the roads,
wash the
state of them.
sit in
the absence,
and breathe.
I’m In Love W/ Whiskey
Whiskey
is always
there for you
when you
need it.
sometimes
i could use
a little
warmth
in my life.
it slides
into me
gracefully
no hidden
expectations
or motives;
its only
wants me
to feel
Come Play
A sprinkler
full of acid
Looks
just like
a sprinkler.
running
through;
the contents
eat down
to my bones
and
then some.
Tweet
Finding a
tiny
feather
on the
sidewalk
does not
mean you
can grab it.
do not
try to
nail it down
beneath claws;
the wind will
pick it up
and fly it
away
[do not try
to make
nest of it]
it may look
like a part
of you,
but it is
not you,
or yours.
it belonged
to another
bird-
-now
nothing
at all.
[attached
never
really
means
ownership]
probably
did not
all along.
—
I’d Say
I felt bad
for you,
if I was
to say
anything
at all.
and that
would be
a lie.
—
bite your
inner cheeks
some more,
babydoll.
it’s ripe
to be
a long,
lonely summer.
Freight’d It’s Over
I saw you
and felt
nothing.
—
if I was
a tunnel,
you used
to be the
train.
whenever
I’d hear
you coming
I’d brace
myself for
impending
arrival.
you’d roll
through me;
unstoppable
force.
i’d feel
every inch
of me
shake and
shudder
as you
ran through
my bones.
—
but you
left
long ago,
now.
and though
you used
to take
My route
regularly
[for quite
some time]
now all
that’s left
is the
distant
whistle
of your
brisk
presence.
ten: daily prompt
“There is a saying that imbalanced Pitta individuals don’t go to hell; they simply create it wherever they go!”
—
The
Ayurveda
Website
Says a
10 P.M.
Bedtime
Is healthiest
For my
pitta-ridden
insides.
Thank
Eastern
Medicine
Livers&Guts
Don’t
Tell time.
—
daily prompts, inspiration, postaday, writing, Post Ideas
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/2017/01/25/ten/
#DiscoverWP
I am unwell.Feast your eyes, herein lies a downward descent into the workings of a manic mind.
mania,sanity,postaday,reflections,paranoia,alcoholism,anxiety,DiscoverWP,depression,processing,rape,discover,drinking,firstpost,newhere,disclosure,coping,writing,self-care,thoughts,trauma
https://thighhighsocksgoldylocks.wordpress.com/2017/01/25/first-blog-post/
settling in white america
All across
White
Middle america
There are
the fathers
There they are
tucked away
In their garages
Hiding in their
Spaces
Lined with plywood
Hiding in their
Spaces
Armed with power tools
What can I build?
to keep occupied
Keep from thinking?
Keep from
Reflecting?
on the
Current boredom
my life
They sulk in their garages
Escaping their wives
The women they
Choose to die with
She makes his meals
She excuses him
She has her space
Perhaps,
A sewing room,
A knitting corner,
The kitchen
She makes for him
For the family
If only
she could fill
Or cover up
All this empty
Then
they
would be happy?
Together?
Decades of sitting parallel
in separate chairs
Fill the space
with
tiny versions
of themselves
Follow all the rules
Wheel of fortune
During dinner time
Dream of fortunes
“Life would be
so much better
if we only
won the lottery”
We’d have enough money
To have more spaces
Big big spaces
We’d fill them
With things
To ignore each other
To fill
In between
the span
Of a settled life
—
#discoverWP
