Saturday, December 31, 2016

You Better Cry

You better cry
cry the crocodile tears of remorse
because all eyes will be watching you
& Lord knows, you never gave 2 shits
about her as you flew
tell your stories how you helped her
oh, such the good soul
fake
opaque
wither in your regret
nightmares never forget

white funeral Lilies dripping crimson
blood-stained from the abuse
hide it all away
pretend it does not exist
grab your faithful cross
exorcist
confess all
in complete
complacent silence
letting it all continue
in hell-bent defiance

just don't ask my opinion of you
2 sisters so willingly turned away
so many years
until she lay in a coma
slow was her fading day

oh, but you gave her a ham on Christmas
so I suppose that fixes everything
her eyelids never fluttered open to see it
steps creeping for the exit
bit
by
bit

Tuesday Mourning

Tuesday is mourning
for the little sister
now gone
never given any credit
Truth be told
I admired all her kooky ways
how she laughed
while traveling through
her dysfunctional family's maze

her body now ash
crematorium furnace
burning all the pages of her story

I'll sit back and watch the nodding
the prodding
for deeper sympathy
a sarcastic smirk
before the ruthless turn their back

Long, Strange Sleep

I awoke with a flash
& then fell asleep again
all the mess crashing in
closing my eyes to unsee
torn edges I burned so easily
in a cloud of wrath
I wrecked everything around me

6 year sleep
high price
steep

now that I am awake
I look around me in dismay
& a gritting teeth determination
to clean my own mess
no hesitation

6 year sleep
high price
steep

Saturday, July 23, 2016

Frayed Edges

Frayed, torn edges
of butterfly wings
rising so gracefully
fluttering
arcing
randomly riding a
chaotic wind
poetic suspend
vulnerable trust
in the frantic up-thrust
full trust
in the land
ampersand

Tuesday, July 19, 2016

He Can't Be a Normal Man

Whomever I love
he can't be a
normal man

I want him to mix
the poisonous toxin
without my outright suggestion

I want him to
walk in my
dark promenade

I want his strong arms
& darkest thoughts
to settle in
around me
& my own

I want us to dance
in the
darkest trance

I want to drink his nectar
& he
to drink
from me

Let us mix
fashionable poison

Let us praise each other
in our dark thought
writhing
wrought
with the moon
blushing
as our naked bodies sigh

Layers of Hell

I now know there are layers to hell. She was a vibrant
part of my life
now forever silent

So sudden

It still rattles me

She was one of the first to notice my writing
always encouraging
her purple emblem became my anchor
& then
one day
everything stopped

A chill
unlike any other
settled around me
Hell
and all its beastly hellhounds
showed their teeth
with her disappearance

Valhalla

I bury it
it gets resurrected
I murder it
it gets reborn

Insomnia

White nightgown trailing
another tragic tale flailing
a victim
with her screaming echoes
my hand reaching
silent footfalls

Sobering Conversation

I told her I have been single for 6 years. Her eyes widened and she proceeded to trample on every thought of grace I had planted.  This girl that was single, herself. I shook my head and offered some lame excuse and just let the subject fall to the greasy floor where we stood.

6 years. Good Lord. I walked away feeling like some kind of wondrous, nerdy loser. I started saying a string of cuss words (mostly 'fuck').  I thought of  the opportunities that I gave up, walked away from, or hid from. I thought of all the damning things that would always make me feel less than, up to this point.

My life has been a fucked-up roller coaster ride, since the day I was born. I'm learning to feel. I'm learning to live. And learning love myself has been the longest journey.

6 years. It sounded longer than forever. Dear God. Something's terribly wrong with me. My fist grips my own heart, until it bleeds uncontrollably.

Poison Ring

My poison ring flashes
pending court date
my back remember the
painful lashes
naked skin
remembering the sin
gaping flesh
no healing mesh

Quietly I slip away
fill the silver ring
poison I plan to bring
push the naïve souls to safety
as I go on trial
the beast
with his toothless grin waits

Cold & calculated
watching as the
toxin drips
a smile
escapes
my ruby lips


Rip it from Me

Everyone wants a piece
pieces that I show
like shards of ripped paper
knowing only half my story
& none of the glory

I'm a chameleon
showing the showy show
blending
bending
mending

Dear God
rip it from me
pain & the sweet
  tantalizing dream
rip it
tear it up
burn it in a heap
gather the ashes
mold them in your better hands

Gothic Nights / Steely Dreams

Thunder clap
Bullwhip wrap
Lightning crashing
Push
Pull
Give
Take
Speak
Listen
Words slashing
Verbal lashing

Steely eyelids slamming shut
Silence wraps around me
  settles like lead in my gut

Crumbling walls and my
MadHatter hat sitting atop my
messy head
askew
I look with a wayward glance
for a better view

Hangman's Tale

Creaking of the branch
my skin
gone blanch
opaque thoughts slipping
dark
night tripping
this rope is top-notch
thread gripping.

Wednesday, June 8, 2016

In Harm's Way

Monday, I went to my county courthouse to file a motion for the state to further investigate my ex-husband's employment situation. It's getting harder and harder after having no child support for over a year. The process was fairly mindless and extremely easy. I worried about a court filing fee, but the attendant assured me there will be none. Five minutes later, and I was ready to leave. The process was that fast. The attendant handed me two copies and said I needed to give my ex the other copy. The statement didn't register. "Give my ex the other copy? As in, you're going to mail him a copy, right?"  "No ma'am. You have to personally deliver the copy."

My mind reeled. I walked out with both copies. My case is not unique. My ex is abusive. I filed a restraining order 6 years ago and now that order has lapsed in order for him to visit his son legally and without consequences, unless physical and emotional abuse can be proven. None has been noted, so the visits have gone on without any real difficulties.

This situation has ramifications that strike fear in my heart. Handing him a copy of my request for a child support investigation. A person that has worked extremely hard at covering his tracks in order to avoid paying out child support. A person that knows if he fills out an application, it stalls the state from making automatic child support payment withdraws from a checking, savings, or any other financial institution - because it's showing he's "trying." Never mind that this has gone on for over a year. The state is well aware of his history, both in the employment realm and as an abuser.

My request for the investigation will go on and I have come up with my own solution as a result of fearing for my safety. A solution that I will not highlight here. A judge will be assigned the case and every aspect of my ex-husband's employed whereabouts will  be delved into. Not that they haven't already - this is more extensive and with more finite detail. Out of the 500 cases the state deals with on a daily basis, the court order will take my case out and give it more time for special review. It will come directly from the judge, not myself. This is extremely important when considering I have an abusive ex-husband that would like every excuse in the world to blame me for his abuse.

It's hard to put into words how I feel right now. People reading this that are not abuse survivors won't understand the brevity of this situation. The state was willing to put me in harm's way by asking me hand deliver a court copy of my request.

I often wonder when I will truly be free. As of now, I am only 2 steps ahead of the monster. That isn't nearly enough.

Tuesday, March 8, 2016

Stony Back

Words fall and trickle down my stony back
like pebbles rolling down concrete
No longer the child heart
waiting for apologetic repeat
Letting the words spill from others
Strangers
Neighbors
Mother
Brothers
They're just words, I remind myself
Turning
Walking away
Spiritually
Mentally
Feeling the strength rise up
to move on
physically.

Reboot

It's been a while since I've posted here.  Time I did not plan on taking away, but apparently, I needed the time.  The rest to find the rest.  I could go on and on about why.  It's all done and I'm back to sing a new song. 

It wasn't exactly me falling so hard that I'm now starting all over, but I am starting over.  A couple of chapters I never expected and certainly could not have foreseen.  Sometimes I just cried thinking it was all a bit too obscene.  If I learned anything of this life, it's that nothing really goes as planned - not everything, anyway. 

In December, I thought my son and I would be homeless.  In January, I fell back into my darkest depression. I gave up the idea of my career; threw my hands up in the air and set out for something completely different.  I travelled to New Mexico and despised every fucked up second of that business trip that turned out to be one big trigger; a trigger of memories that I stomped down 3 or 4 years ago.  I threw my hands up again and gave in.  I'm telling ya, I caved completely in.

REBOOT

And so here I am.  Finally with a semblance of happiness.  I'm a licensed physical therapist assistant in the state of Missouri and now I'm waiting for my Illinois endorsement.  While I wait the 8 weeks or so, I will be working at McDonald's (why does that make me giggle?)  I cannot WAIT! A place I will be completely anonymous.  A new person.  A new start.  A new life.  I have my sweet, little nest egg saved up, so I could give 2 shits how much they pay me.  Give me my uniform.  Teach me the lingo I all ready know "Hi! Welcome to McDonald's.  Would you like a super-sized Big Mac meal today?" I'll wear my hair in a pony-tail and chit chat with the teeny-boppers about life and stupid nonsense on our downtime. 

NOSTALGIA

I was 19 when I worked there.  Before all the trauma and abuse and stupid shit I let into my life.  I was free.  It was before I became serious about anything but going out after work and having fun.  Staying up until 3am and going into work at 6am.  Getting off of work at 5pm and driving like a bat out of hell to the concert arena to see Stevie Nix.  I was so abundantly me, then.  I was 19.  Working at McDonald's as a store manager and thinking my shit did not stink and seeing my life spread out before me with the beauty of the setting and rising sun.  It was before I learned to hate myself and put myself away in the back of some discarded, dusty shelf. 

And so here I am.  Years later.  Preparing to start all over again.  In a place that does not remind me of my pain and torture.  It reminds me of my better self. 

I think this is life saying "Here.  Let's close the book and write a new one."