midlife crisis

Falls

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Back here, realty in my eyes clear, I shove furniture out of the way, constantly sweeping all animal hair and dust, leaving none stray. There’s this cloud that follows me around, so I zip…then zag…swiping dirty surfaces with a rag, until…

BAM!

The Cloud

F

A

L

L

S

Overwhelmed, breath caught in my throat:

This is it!

It’s DONE.

My eyes close as I drop my broom, rushing one hand over my heart, the other to cover my mouth, salty drips off my nose drop between my breasts.

Caught in time, going nowhere as my crime.

No! I say NO.

Deliberate action.

No more passive reaction.

I’d rather be alone

than in this kind of marriage limbo.

I don’t know how or when, but a change is coming. Damn it, I’m sick to death of running.

I want the attention of a kind caress!

I need a furtive dive into a deep kiss, where roving hands finger passionate bliss!

I wonder sometimes why I can’t just believe that someday something will click and someone will notice I deserve more…dick

CONTROL

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Control. I will own my control.

No more weak, no more speaking fucking meek, I know what I need.

I need ME to stop being a pussy and find my cheetah: direct, confident, and fast as lightning when chasing what it wants to eat for sustenance, for brain candy.

I’m taking back my control to reestablish connection with my soul…Even drowning, I want to be able to dance a groove on the ocean floor!

Control. I will own my control. A wheeled wonder woman ready to pave my own road, that’s what I want to be.

Bars

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A heart walled in by bars staked down to my gut and piercing me when I talk…that’s what my pain has done with time. A full-time job to upkeep, but only sleep solicits a sense of lovely peace from a brain that hates, a load of loathe that I can’t escape.

I want to be different. I want to embrace glowing! I swallow hard that feeling.

I’m always trying to find a way out…out of my brain, out of my house, out of my marriage, out…out…out DAMN spot! Out past demons that retain too much control! I rule my life!

Humble

And I dream LOVE!

So Much Love

Hoping you don’t feel as lost as I do.

Wishing you all love in your world!

re-animate

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lost at sea, drowning…can’t breathe, sinking, the weight of life tethering my feet, my fate bleak

your anchor drops, deep dive, wrapping me in a blanket of light, elevating me, lifeless, from the bottom of the sea

blue and purple, on the deck of your rescue ship, in an instant, you know what to do, leaning, mouth prying

opening my airways, up-tilting my head, your lips cover mine, and you breathe…into me a new life

each lung-ful, a gust of wind, propelling momentum towards the true goal: learn to re-animate my SELF again

“HELP ME!” I cough out, and with love, I’m enveloped, warm safety caressing my skin, waiting for trusting to begin

mourning shadows

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I don’t reside here. I’m just preparing. Where is my voice? Why can’t I speak? Why can’t I just be ok living this way? Empty. Despite how I try to fill my space with a positive state of mind, I feel like I’m here just to watch until I die.

I refuse that fucking life. I sware I’ll keep practicing and getting stronger and one day I’ll do it. I’ll stand up for myself and find the voice of my authentic self.

Until then…I’ll just keep incessantly cleaning, my only form of control in my upside-down world.

Eyes Don’t Lie

This struck my chord as I sniff sweet coffee steam, the storm beating down on me and the roof over my head, lightning behind my eyes, shocking my brain to the truth of why I can’t help but feel insane.

But, I’m a woman, and I will survive.

I’m a Woman (Koko Taylor)

Unexpected

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As I drove to help at my daughter’s work again, I realized I was singing, not staring absent or crying over a complex situation, no I felt like singing!

In an instant, fully cognizant of the difference in my temperament, I asked myself, Why? What’s different this morning from yesterday’s?

And I remembered how I fell asleep last night, relishing every frame of him singing until my eyes fell into my brain’s serenity (held within my phone’s screen).

Every day is the same for me.

I cherish his face, the way he moves his mouth…funniest thing ever is since I can remember, I had dreams of teeth, so not kidding, and the most hilarious part of yearning for this particular man is that I have literally had dreams about his mouth since childhood, lol!

How silly right!?! No one knows, it’s just a secret hidden deep in my heart without any point or purpose except to me. I swear, I couldn’t make this shit up.

I’m starting to have nightly panic attacks unfortunately. No one knows that either. I wonder why I cry, like letting out the pain of my hub killing hope will help me cope. What a joke.

I sware that other of mine is going to ruin G Love’s show for me (tried the first time I saw him in the Rockies, tried to ruin Billy Strings, and was a dick before (and I slept alone in the hotel room after) ALO too).

He makes the great in life taste…less sweet. 

Tonight, right now, with love guiding my sail, I will eat another man’s sweet, and I do not feel guilty. I’ll protect my heart, keep doing it alone, talking to myself, touching myself with images of us that pop up hot…

A clandestine transgression of fulfillment, wishes washing my soul into an awakening, my wish every evening.

My days with him helping me through each end, then, begin like this…

Baroque and Blue

Present

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There’s a line that repeats in my head every time I get super frustrated at my life:

“the medicine of speaking and listening”

Remember back to when smoking pot was new and exciting. A person would puff ‘n’ give while talking, smoke pouring out of their mouth because they’re laughing…I can’t even speak while passing a peace pipe, NO ONE is listening, let alone hearing anything from my lips. A wife is said to become annoying, but NO ONE realizes I’m gone. It’s sad, but not for me.

I have that line.

“the medicine of speaking and listening”

I thought it was me. I’m just not worth listening to, I have no job, I have nothing important to say, so why should anyone listen to me? Fuck that. Sorry to be crass. I’m done being the blame for his wrongs. I’m done feeling like an ass.

I’m yearning for growth through connection, conversation like I used to feel when I got out of my head.

I wish I could give you a present for all the ways you help me in a day. Fun images when snide comments are thrown my way. Lovely lines that encourage my strength, advice in a way to not lose my shit when repeatedly I’m made to feel like a dick. It didn’t matter how often he tried to ruin my day, he couldn’t. Instead of crying and hiding, I climbed a hill and took a cool picture like I used to do when I was by myself. Progress I feel.

Nature giving you a hug 🫂

it’s in me

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It’s in me. I know it is because my subconscious keeps showing me. The sizzle of the chicken on the stove, open eyes wake-dream your eyes guiding your lips to land on the skin just below my ear, with a kiss grazing my neck, you whisper, “I’m here…” And while savoring that sizzle, oil pops out to smear my glasses, you know, fate reminding me of my reality with a fizzle.

I don’t write sex anymore because obviously I won’t ever get what I wish. Recently, he killed my artist endeavors on Instagram too (made fun of me for a few too many things).

Despite all that baggage bullshit, sexy images popping up in me tickled me pink all day long…

It’s the most wonderful thing! It’s in me! Passion, lust, desire, wild-fun love are in me still!

Seduced

I want to be seduced and seduce my muse!

I now know what I’ve spent my life looking for: someone who inspires me.

I also know what I cannot abide: being belittled and sexless for the rest of my short life.

(I started volunteering at a summer camp for kids with disabilities where my daughter is teaching art and STEM. Good distraction:)

unacceptable

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It’s unacceptable. I know. Silly, for sure. I have to purge before midnight, or sleepless I’ll be. So, here’s my unbelievable moment of honesty, with which I show the fool hidden deep.

I miss a video, well not exactly…how can I explain???

Funny how a song can not only bring back things unsettling, but also give a new beginning with a joyful memory.

His video, his voice, his smile, each creative choice did that for me.

No one knows that when I was about ten, I performed a dance routine during a basketball game half time show to “Dancing in the Streets.”

In dance and gymnastics from four to fourteen (when I had a car accident spinal cord injury), nostalgia when I hear certain songs can be unexpected. Well, every part of him singing was touching, and welling emotions made my skin prickly hot when he smiled, especially as he belted a beautiful “Chicago”.

A yearn began to dance about, urging my lungs to expell a belly laugh, honestly, like nothing I’ve ever felt, for tears too dripped onto my phone.

My brain wouldn’t let it go, so I had to figure out if I could find it again. Then, I searched…results:

Gone.

That was last night. All day, knowing it doesn’t matter that it matters to me, knowing it’s something I’ll never again see, breaks my heart repeatedly.

Lost, my confidence whipped raw, I think I’ll take a break from social media. I didn’t used to be so emotional!

I think it’s true…you stay the same age as your greatest traumatic event. For me that makes sense, I still act like a horny teenager, head up my ass.

My excuse is so simple: I want to feel good.

In my life, I’m only misunderstood.

(I put back up a bunch of old stuff, why not, right? If only I didn’t try to hide parts of my writing…)