Bars

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!

April (…continued)

The giant day gecko, exuding a firey aura of colors, stood perched on a rock beside April, who lifted herself out from the pond of passion back onto the solid ground, when he began gesticulating with a shuffle dance, singing, “Yes…yes…the time has come. Yes! The time is now. Climb! CLIMB! Climb to the other side, you have a key to find, you’ll see, you’ll see, follow me!”

Curiosity of a cat,  April looked up, eyes glowing in the thicket shadows, “Oh, an adventure! I’m ready for anything!” Listless, unsatisfied and so very bored just wasting time, why not search for something sublime?

“Yes, yes, up, up we must go, up and over to the other side of the wall. Help me, please, help me find the golden key!” Bowing with cane and top-hat excitedly flailing circles, infusing April with a giddy energy.

“Why of course, I will, certainly!” And at that, April laced her fingers high into the vines that protruded in layers out from the brick wall, with no fear of some snake bite, no! Instead, she began pushing the soles of her feet to propell her rise from ground to sky.

Darkness loomed from above, punctuated by a far off thunderous BOOM as April’s eyes creeped with a pop up over the top, whether naught or some sinister plot, she knew not…Regardless, she climbed over straddling its width, then tossing herself to fall off for a loooong drooooppp.

There was no wonder to April. She closed her eyes and chuckled as if tickled by a cat nuzzling her neck, arms in an ‘X’ on her chest, hugging herself the whole way down, laughing loud, enjoying the journey of creative momentum in the dark falling in wait of a lantern to illuminate her fate.

trouble

— trouble-shots of disgust —

when things are missing or moved, if something is not done right, an ask for a bit of help, a word of advice, honestly, a word of any kind seems to earn a look

— trouble-shots of disgust —

I used to get an apology when he acted like a dick, now I just have a dick I never want to play with, and for fuck’s sake, I’m pretty desperate.

You tell me…after spending the day in bed from a hang over, then slamming a bowl of chicken down and spitefully spitting, “I haven’t eaten in two days and this is dinner?”

He didn’t remember finishing off the pasta dish I took to the party before he went to bed at 7:00. I told him that softly and took care of the kid.

He went back to bed.

I’m here wondering if he’s actually irritated I’m not backing down, not crying, not caring anymore. I’m doing everything the same, except I’m not home all the time to be his maid, I haven’t been treating him enough like a king.

I loathe that expectation.

My dad taught me a man wants to be treated like a king. After 20 years, I created a monster of expectations and disappointments.

I spent the last two hours cooking and cleaning, thinking about how I can escape tonight, where can I fly when it’s my time to feel something magical…but he killed it, reminding me right now I’m stuck in this reality.

I’m a Woman

Last week’s music league entry.

(FYI: Publishing this for 24 hours helps my brain deal with the fact that I’m not this, I’m not someone who shares marriage baggage until I can’t get past a new scar that opens an old wound…wish I could find some other way to deal, but as Popeye always says, “I am what I am and that’s all that I am.”;)

mourning shadows

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

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

To do Done

I miss reading. In books, I had adventures, I had friends, I had love. Finding the Canon changed my life first. The Awakening proved that a mundane life can hold captive a passionate soul. “Kubla Kahn” brought to life the floating pleasure-dome of Xanadu. So many lines, so much time enjoying the stories unfolding in my mind. Now, I feel dumb or blind to what’s good in life.

I don’t know how to do done? I can’t believe that this is my ‘it’ because I really don’t know how to go back from this emptiness that nothing I say or do can fix. I keep saying something is wrong, we’re not right, but nothing changes night after night.

Another day of me alone, dogs in the garage watching his wall, him talking to AI more than imaginable, for in my family it has already taken control, killing the creative soul.

Sound silent

Voice violent

Combat zone

Heart roams

Away alone

storms quiet

What would I say if I had my way?

it’s in me

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

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…)

Oddest Flowers

Even the oddest

flowers can flourish.

No sowing.

At first, just a seed

blowing when it falls

into a driveway crack,

and dormant instinct

roots foundation through

the black tar and gravel

until the magic of a spring

environment rains

light-food and nutrient-water

to seep deep then

an unlikely flower pushes

with burgeoning strength

through paved black-top.

Resiliency from infancy.

That’s me.