I spent all of this miserable time,
With an eye ever watching what’s mine,
Oh, how these strong emotional walls,
Break to bits when they finally fall,
Watch as my own wrecking ball,
Bitterly destroys it all in due time.

Wildly employing harsh strategies,
Idly killjoying my fantasies,
See how the peace is so far gone?
The why and how, the right and wrong,
Unsevered ties to my tragedies,

No bottom to the darkened depths,
no solidity beneath my many missteps,
Hear how my world is death rattling?
See my walls of glass as they’re shattering,
Around the feet that the mirror reflects?

Like a fluttering paper in a wayward breeze,
Screaming answers to queries whispered silenty,
A blessing disguised as an atomic bomb,
To explode and expose what our oaths have become,
The violent detachment of a butterfly’s wings.

A Butterfly’s Wings.

Arterial.

And, somehow,
it’s obvious,
raw right now,
I’m dubious,
raised eyebrow,
how scandalous,
I’m over-thinking:
staunch and unblinking,
ever force-feeding,
til this nauseasness,
gets swallowed back down,
And, it repeats again,
its strenuous,
this routine I live within,
life’s tedious,
I ooze falsification,
that’s spontaneous,
I’m unbending:
by extending,
what’s pretend,
every inhalation,
a breathing fabrication,
I know how,
this saga ends,
And, someday,
eventually,
the stain fades,
from visibility,
words said,
defferentially,
in stones marking graves,
these pathways,
to eternity,
paved by anxiety,
are, potentially,
theoretically,
the way out,
of the self-doubt,
raging throughout,
every last artery.

*Apply Puking Sound Here*.

There’s so much that I’ve wanted to, say in earnestness to you, along the lines of all your lies, I’d like add some truth of mine; Throughout everything, I have been, a loyal and trustworthy friend, I didn’t fuck with your reputation, should’ve put you on blast way back then; Instead I held my tongue […]

*Apply Puking Sound Here*.

Puree.

Pour what’s left of me, into the puree machine,   press the button, liquefy my everything,   slosh me about carelessly, pour me out and take a drink,   how does it taste? your short-lived victory,   the look on your face, conveys quite bitterly,   the grit it leaves between your teeth, how you […]

Puree.

Shanghaied.

Blue skies,

high highs,

then it’s all gone…

Closed eyes,

finalized,

rendered solemn.

Shanghaied,

hogtied,

to the bottom…

Blindside,

decried,

bigger problems.

That’s right,

just might,

never solve them…

Surprised,

scandalized,

by the outcome.

Demoralized,

demonized,

a conundrum…

conceptualized,

verbalized,

begging pardon.

Wide-eyed,

falsified,

ever outdone…

Ill advised,

characterized,

by the pondscum.

Incentivized,

portentous lies,

drab skies darken…

Satisfied,

pacified,

black hearts harden.

Cosmic.

This is something that was totally inspired by an old friend and Master Poet, Kosmogonic.

As my thoughts go numb to the silence that transplants the old, fog-horned days of glory, fingers randomly closing on memories floating by in the air, I am a sitting duck, without you.

As the poisonous swirl of clearing smoke winds its way into my lungs, a snake wrapped tightly ’round the limb of a lone tree, my bite is venomless without you.

As the sun slips behind the warmth I once buried beside you; your essence courses through my veins, but quickly dilutes into my own, I am pondscum without you.

As the smirking distance tears and chews up the many miles between where I am and the salvation of your fingertips touching my deepest and most sensual parts, I starve; so hungry without you.

As dewy drops roll down the leaves of fuzzy memories and recollected tendrils of smoky laughter fade and reshape into the ends of the world, any strength has abandoned me, utterly, muscles turn gelatinous without you.

As my words and their lack of meaning shoot like darts from the mouth I have come to regret and disdain, that open sore that won’t heal no matter what I do in attempt at affecting a salve, a festering wound, without you.

Do Your Part.

Recently, as a white-looking woman with countless privileges that I have, admittedly, always taken for granted, I’ve obviously been deeply pondering where my place is in all of the chaos and suffering that my fellow human beings are (and always have been) enduring as a result of their’ heritage. I am not playing the “black friends card” when I say that several of my best and most deeply cherished friends on this Earth are Black; it’s a truth of mine that I have always had with me and never really had to think about too much, for whatever reason. I have cousins who are half Black; my Aunt is Black. They are my blood relatives; we have the same blood coursing through our veins, truth.
Now, as my family, close friends and I are miserably trying to compartmentalize and process the sad and hideous truths violently seeping through the fabric of our shared culture here in the United States of America, I see for the first time in my life that despite the innate acceptance and truly pure bond present in my mindset, personally, in terms of the many Black People that I know and love, there’s a dauntingly larger population of hateful, dis-informed, self-worshiping white people who harbor the most ill of will towards my loved ones over such a subjective factor as the pigment of their’ skin.
And while I, as an experienced lover of ALL people from ALL backgrounds, ethnicity and cultures, can sleep at night, knowing that beneath the skin of every human being, lies the uniform and universal genetic material that makes us each Human siblings, I’ve also realized with a sobering certainty that we are NOT all Human any longer.

There are those among us are no more advanced or refined than vicious, wild animals.

Pretentious white moms driving through Starbucks in minivans; nurturing brainlessness in white-priviledged broods of sadistic bigots who represent the unceasing entitlement complex that defines 5 out of 10 white people in this country, sadly.

White men who claim to be accepting of others in public, while snickering at the idea behind closed doors; making horribly unfunny jokes at the expense of those who look different from them and their’ beloved corn-fed roots.

I realize that who I am, have always been, could not be any more disparate from these lowly creatures, despite the shared physical appearance between us. I realize that I would no sooner stake any kindred claim to these beings then to cut off my own arms and send them down the river. The relationships with my Black loved ones have become strained; as I am very aware of the cold, hard fact that the actions and lifestyles of racist whites naturally reflect on me, in turn.

And that shit hurts.

As a longtime underdog, the Americanized version of the word “Liberty” truly disgusts me beyond description. And, that’s coming from a white woman’s mouth. Beneath my own experiences with the unfair judicial system, multi-faceted corruption and perversely incentivized social service programs, I can also hear the muffled whispers of generations worth of Black Lives in this country desperately trying to get a deeper, much more ever-present terror across the boundary of judgement.

That age-old haunt of:

 “I am just one person, what difference can I honestly make?

comes screaming to the surface of my mind everyday lately; and, unbelievably, it stills seems to hold at least some sway, even in these crazy times when, yes: one person’s staunch support, one person’s quiet voice, one refusal to look the other way when so much unjust destruction is consuming our fellow human beings, can indeed make all the difference in the situation…one person at a time.

This “I am just one person” sentiment has hushed and smoothed over collective urges good white people harbor to bust a grape on racial terrorism and injustice in our society for God knows how long now. All white people are more fearful, uncertain and out of their’ privileged element lately, be they good and sympathetic to the movement or evil racist oppressors.

And lately I see so clearly, that this sentiment is lie.

Racism is a lie. (By that, I mean that the foundations racism is built upon are all lies.)

Prejudice and racially based injustice are long-standing, widely accepted lies.

Generational white privilege is a self-taught lie that white people must stop re-telling white children.

Adorning myself in bad makeup and ranting about my friendships with Black people will not help this issue; this issue goes so much deeper and further back in time to be solved by self-righteous pawns in so-called well meant missions that boil down to those same peoples’ lasting ability to comfortably look themselves in the mirror every morning.

I realize that no matter the blood relation between cousins, the shared upbringing, any family roots between us, they have lived an entirely different existence from mine because they don’t share the privileges I have always taken in stride in my own admitted negligence.

And that is how I feel now, is: negligent…self-absorbed, even clueless in the face such widespread terrorism and suffering around me.

I support the uprising of all human beings who are striving toward a more balanced and culturally intertwined society.

I sympathize with my Black friends who have a hard time looking at me right now.

I support the rebellion against “the man” who forced a group of people to evolve in this country while being hated and mistreated all the while, under an oppressive, invisible thumb.

Lastly, and in conclusion to this scattered mess of personal introspection: I support fellow good human beings – black, white, brown, beige, red and yellow.

I have recognized and banished the lies surrounding racism from my existence, and encourage every person to do the same.

Dismantle the KKK and shame them for being the scar on our society that they truly are.

Stop painting your faces black in attempt to be supportive – it’s offensive and immature.

Do your privileged part to wipe out the cycle of suffering in so many Black Lives. Whether you know any Black people or not.

The destruction and suffering of Black Lives might not ever be able to heal, but it can be shut down as it should’ve been long ago. And every single person needs to be doing whatever they can to usher in a future that looks drastically different from today’s U.S. Snapshot.

A Dreadfully Fake Fatmouth.

You know that point in a good story when the bad guy finally shows up? There’s always suspenseful music and poorly done close ups of anxious faces…the terror is tangible, even to the viewer. Well what if there is no music at all? What if the bad guy’s entrance is subtle and incognito? What if the villain blindsided the heroin with a haymaker out of nowhere, knocking her down before stomping her unconscious and stealing her grandmother’s jewelry from her bloodied fingers and clenched fists?

That’s pretty much how this most recent bullshit waste of my time, money and energy has come to represent in my mind.

And even more disturbingly, this sorry fuck actually has himself convinced that, despite the fact that he STOLE FROM ME while he was a guest in my home, he has been victimized. It’s truly pathetic how he comes to my blog and steals my posts then paraphrases them and acts all proud of himself for being the plagiarizing thief he is, in reality. He has proven to be one of the very worst guys I’ve ever tangled with romantically…he’s just such a miserable worm.

And now that I’m looking for it in him, it’s so blatant and obvious that I additionally feel like a complete dolt for not seeing it. I spent over and year with this idiot being totally and completely lied to by a narcissistic fuck.

I’m so over everyone in my life at present besides my friend who’s thankfully living nearby…he has been sanity for me lately, though his trial period with me has been extended, which is usually not a good sign.

Whatever.

I have to be able to take it or leave it.

Because that’s what I have to be able to do.

A Dreadfully Fake Fatmouth.

You know that point in a good story when the bad guy finally shows up? There’s always suspenseful music and poorly done close ups of anxious faces…the terror is tangible, even to the viewer. Well what if there is no music at all? What if the bad guy’s entrance is subtle and incognito? What if the villain blindsided the heroin with a haymaker out of nowhere, knocking her down before stomping her unconscious and stealing her grandmother’s jewelry from her bloodied fingers and clenched fists?

That’s pretty much how this most recent bullshit waste of my time, money and energy has come to represent in my mind.

And even more disturbingly, this sorry fuck actually has himself convinced that, despite the fact that he STOLE FROM ME while he was a guest in my home, he has been victimized. It’s truly pathetic how he comes to my blog and steals my posts then paraphrases them and acts all proud of himself for being the plagiarizing thief he is, in reality. He has proven to be one of the very worst guys I’ve ever tangled with romantically…he’s just such a miserable worm.

And now that I’m looking for it in him, it’s so blatant and obvious that I additionally feel like a complete dolt for not seeing it. I spent over and year with this idiot being totally and completely lied to by a narcissistic fuck.

I’m so over everyone in my life at present besides my friend who’s thankfully living nearby…he has been sanity for me lately, though his trial period with me has been extended, which is usually not a good sign.

Whatever.

I have to be able to take it or leave it.

Because that’s what I have to be able to do.

Realities.

Wanna see my many painful realities?

my empty, metallic uncertainies,

the way I’ve cooled by fooled degrees,

how I can’t scrub away my memories,

You deserve not one of these,

wishes I’ve whispered silently,

Me, and all my blackened dreams,

my hopelessly unraveled heart strings,

my deeply embedded insecurities,

my faulty hardheaded instabilities,

the saltiness I spit into the breeze,

has all my shit quite ill at ease,

the truth will keep me on my knees,

foretelling handmade calamities,

these recollections that are killing me,

the days I’ve blazed away halfheartedly,

you’re finally dead and gone to me,

carried long beyond my reach,

I’m just waiting for the thing,

the next eclipsed sunrise will bring,

all my sleepless nights foreseen,

all my words with no meaning,

all my deep depressions and misery,

my outbursts and lack of identity,

what superficial, superpowered inhumanity,

constant sense of impermanence and impropriety,

a silence inside the core that screams,

a violence that wounds me perpetually.

Eating Dust.

Americana Injustica

I watch from the dust,

as another tour bus,

leaves trails of red lights,

a cruel form of “goodbye”,

full to its capacity,

with those left to humanity,

jam-packed inside,

while I’m left behind;

see me waving,

truly straining,

both bloody eyes open wide…

I step over fading hope,

toe to heel on the tightrope,

that unravels so fast,

with the weight of my mass,

disintegrating easily,

to remind me constantly,

there will be,

no turning back,

it doesn’t work like that;

see me stammer,

see me stumble down,

once again, against the sound,

of betrayal,

of the final nail,

neatly hammered,

once again, unbroken ground;

mouth full of road dust,

in the wake of,

for the sake of,

the retreating tour bus,

I gave up my place,

for this wasteland I love,

so much that I’ll never escape.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Identify.

Americana Injustica

I told you
didn’t I?
you know
I had to try…
to hold onto
my own
hell-bent
detriment…
so indeed
and, earnestly
I let the
arrows fly…
loosed carelessly
to describe
my over-tired
and broken mind
there it was…
no doubt
all laid out
to scale
and personalized
to the very
best ability
of me –
personified…
yet, it’s trifling,
a novel compound
likeyour loyalty
unwieldy…
weighing down
wrought-iron-bound
an anchor  
drowning me…
I tried
early on,
to say why
spelled out
in bold lettering…
to emphasize
with clarity
such shortcomings
like to mine…

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More Unsecret Dialogues of S and J – SURPRISES.

The creaking doors swished open and a silence permeated the waiting area as two figures seemed to eerily materialize from nowhere behind the frosted glass doors.
S’ eyes met with those of her partner in crime for the first time in days; this was the first time they’d met since the “incident” took place. As S’ newly deemed co-defendant, J knew she should not be there for the release of her friend from custody, but could not help herself. And, upon the swishing sound, J walked directly toward the figures of a cranky, uptight police officer and her best friend.

“Are you good?”

J whispered as she fumbled with the tangle of keys she nervously clung to. A jingling sound resounded in the vault-like building.

“I’m fucking lovely.”

The monotoned statement was followed by a tight shutting of S’ jaw. Then, S hastily added,

“I’m hungry.”

The officer irritatedly shuffled through a closely guarded stack of documents and handed S some paperwork before saying rather pompously:

“Here’s your court date and miscellaneous information regarding your bail bond, etcetera… don’t screw it up.”
S snatched the pages from the policeman with a sniff of disgust and rolled her eyes exaggeratedly.


And with that, the noisily chatting women exited the building into the dusky evening outside.

“Maybe we should have thought that through a lil’ better, huh?”

J shuffled through the paperwork as S sped the beat up old truck through the city towards the comfort of the outskirts.

“Give me a light.”

S muttered through the cigarette hanging between her lips. J sparked her lighter and S puffed and inhaled deeply, rolling down the crank window with her free hand.

“It was very well thought out.”

The shorter woman calmly lowered her voice as she inhaled and exhaled the cigarette smoke in her slow, calculated way.

“It’s just that someone went and ran his mouth about it.”

J whipped her head to the left in an attempt to glimpse a look at her friend’s face in the darkened cab. She saw immediately that S wasn’t in a joking mood, and, that she meant what she had just said with deadly seriousness.

“Someone?”

The taller woman’s voice held a tone of disbelief in it’s query. She held her gaze steadily across the front seat at the driver’s frowning profile.

“Yes, someone who wasn’t arrested, but who also, knew enough to sing on us like a canary.”

S tossed her cigarette butt out the window as the truck eased onto the freeway. The cab was silent for long moments as they headed for the reservoir.

“Where are we going?”

J had true curiosity in her voice as she lit her own cigarette and toyed with the lighter, sparking it unnecessarily in the darkness.

“Don’t you want to know who that someone is?”

Now, it was S’ voice that carried tones of leery disbelief in her question. The last two words of her sentence, the: “someone” and the “is”, seemed to echo in the truck cab for a long time after she re-focused on the road after speaking.

J quietly bit her lip and thought about the query for several moments before turning her face sharply toward S in the dark truck cab and saying finally,

“I really don’t know S…”

The truck speedily swerved up the misty, foggy mountain road, whipping its hefty bed around hairpin turns and bouncing over deep cracks and dips that littered the length of it. They eventually turned off onto a road known as Cannibal Creek that run adjacent to one of the many creeks running down into the reservoir.

“Why the hell are we turning here?” J’s voice was flat as she asked.

“We’re here because we need to be here.” S’ voice was flatter.

As they wound up even higher into the cloudy sky toward the summit of Razor Back Mountain, it began to drizzle lightly; suddenly, water drops were audible all over the forested areas surrounding them outside the truck. It became very quiet and cold as they reached the rickety shanty at the top of the road.

J shivered.
“Who’s in there, S?”

There was no answer. The truck rolled on slowly, pitching and rolling over the bumpy drive until coming to a barreling halt in front of the rain-slick shanty. S threw the truck into PARK and hurried out of the driver’s seat to go inside.

J was screaming after her when the door slammed closed with a loud ‘thwack’.

“Dude, you’ve been in jail for almost a week…how’d you pull this one off from behind bars?!”

She hesitantly pulled the handle that popped the passenger door open, exposing her arms to the cold raindrops that were now coming in a steady stream. Leading to the makeshift doorway of the dilapidated shack were rapidly spinning eddies of growing swirls of muddy foam; each mud puddle was full of pine needles and various sized pine cones awash within its pool. A large owl sat solemnly on a beam that ran across the ruins of what once had been a sun porch connected to the entrance of the tiny place. The bird of prey stared at the women hard; it watched S and J with grey/yellow speckled, quite dilated eyes that followed their’ positions as they approached without a sound.

J was obviously in the first stages of her quite notorious “frustration meltdowns”.

As S’ tiny tinkerbell hand wrapped around the rusty knob, she turned to J and said, almost in a whisper:
“Shhhhhhhh…it’s a surprise…”

J’s eyes rolled upwards with exasperation and her tongue clicked loudly in disgust. She practically growled at S in a low tone now,


“I fucking hate surprises, S…”

The door swung wide.

Pencil Shavings.

From the highest
of heights,
wide-eyed
and smitten flight,
everything is feeling right,
Then another round,
of profound hindsight,
a different view,
of your new taillights,
Good for an itty bitty,
pretty shitty pile,
the rusty revolution,
of a rickety turnstile,
a lusty evolution,
hardly worth my while,


Cheshire-esque,
wicked smile,
unsubtle grin,
Up and down again,
Push and pull me in,
Noone ever wins,
In this situation,
Light switch lottery,
slip-shift personality,
Which one of these,
faces will you be?
Wide awake and angry,
Sweet and sour and tangy,
Emotional and lazy,
Contextual and crazy,


I pick my cards,
and ride them hard,
in that regard,
the pride is hazy,
a heart carved of stone
droll, cautionary tone,
my heart travels on,
beyond the home I know,
of one face that you show,
to quench the craving,
replacing the stars,
that shine above you,
erasing the hearts,
and lines of “I love you”,

A pencil’s shavings,
greyscale shading,
contrast prevailing,
after-images fading,
slight ideas invading,
this void which binds,
such a vessel of mine,
aware of strict confines,
a bold and hand drawn line,
put there in the sand,
to force a play and
Sway, win the hand,
a hollowed, empty man,

An ancient summit shrine,
dedicated to,
the evening skies,
relecting colors of my eyes,
enveloping,
my state of mind,
embellishing,
with relished time,
At first inquiry,
things seem to be,
well and upswinging,
bright and cheery scenes,
then fire that’s fizzling,

Jokes and giggling,
pokes and tickling,
My mind’s,
alert vigilante,
disparate feelings,
high and fluttering,
soon I’m sputtering,
and the very next night,
someone’s mean and uptight
chasing moonlight,
nothing feels right,

Paranoid whispers,
deluded tongue twisters,
explosive transistor,
in my chest set to blow,
how didn’t you know?
Venomous or jealous,
Dissident and zealous,
Non confident and dim,
Which one will be Him.

Dick Move.

Buckteeth!

I realize it’s a straight up “Dick Move”, as my brother so eloquently puts it, to wake someone up and snap photos of them next to you immediately, but I couldn’t help myself. My dog TOTALLY wears his sleepiness on his face and it cracks me up. Thought I’d eternalize the moment in the datasphere.

Americana and Oso 2020

Punchline.

Americana Injustica

Sick of writing through misery

sick of crying until I fall asleep

I’m pretty damn tired of everything

nothing seems to offer me clarity

 

Spent like the cash from a weathered billfold

content to at last let my veins run ice cold

strung up and paraded for all to behold

banked on the river down which I’ve been sold

 

Talking unfailingly frustrates me

blocking my own thoughts relentlessly

walking into the warmth of a blanket party

balking at the shocking way that others look at me

 

Steady as the tempo of shimmying rainfall

I remain plain and mundane through it all

a statue of concrete built standing up tall

unable to bend at the knees or to crawl

 

Rain or shine this destiny is mine

to stand tall and keep my place in line

never underestimate the enemies of mine

a newly told joke with the…

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I’m Noticing.

I’m noticing the way that doors suddenly open when one gets closed on something you’ve let go from your Life.

People always said this to me when I had recently slammed a door shut in one context or another, but it never seemed to apply to my personal “hallways”before. This time, it’s actually proven true to my own experience.

I’ve been wearing ‘Man Blinders’ for over a year, as (I thought) I was in a relationship with a (previously unrecognized) lowly worm; and haven’t been open to meeting new men at all. I had stupidly uncultivated the interest in meeting anyone else because I was too busy believing a constant stream of pure, undiluted bullshit for way too long.
However, almost immediately after discovering the true nature of said weasel/worm, anything I ever allowed myself to feel for him literally evaporated from my heart and mind; making it exceptionally easy to close the door that seals him and his nonsense out of my Life permanently.
And, the other doors began to swing open almost at once. I’m not bragging by any means; and it’s not like I have shit-tons of men hammering at my door or anything. But there have been a few who, upon learning the fact that I’ve been set free from what more than one of them recognized as having always been a hoax, resurfaced to offer their varying types of comfort to me.(Not like I need any of it.)
One man in particular, who I’ve only recently met while walking my dog about 3 months ago, has been surprisingly into me since finding out my renewed status of “single”.

Before he finally spoke to me for the first time, I had walked passed his house every day for about 3 months and he only smiled and waved at me on the sidewalk from his garage, never saying a word to me at all. He assumed I was married and I naturally did the same about him.

One day, Oso and I were walking by and he came charging out of the garage down the driveway waving a bag of dog treats and asking my dog’s name. Now that in itself caught my attention because most if not all people are too intimidated by my big boy to walk up with a hand out without knowing him. He later told me that he figured the only way to “get in” with me was through my ever faithful protector, my dog. But even after he told me this, he never said a word about anything romantic between he and I until this week.

This guy rides a badass Harley Davidson Dina, likes my dog (but more importantly, Oso likes him), is a pothead, he’s highly self aware, good looking, not planning to stay in the area for much longer, no ex wives or children, and, he plays guitar very well.
(Something about a guy who plays guitar that gets me everytime).

I’m not quite dating him, we mostly ride around in the mountains on his bike, just hang out, get stoned, and we talk about everything and anything for hours. He even almost had to give me the Hymlick Maneuver once, when I swallowed a wedge of a tangerine whole and literally couldn’t breathe. That was only the second time we ever hung out, it was so embarrassing! Plus, he’s only known me since I began the undertaking of massive dental procedures; and he doesn’t bat an eye when I drop in with a swollen, numbed face and I’m drooling on myself without knowing. He just laughs approvingly and says,

“No worries, I kinda like it when you look like maybe you just had a stroke…”

It’s a good thing right now, to have someone to pass time with in the evenings. After being in a long-distance shit show, it’s very refreshing to get picked up in my own driveway by a man on a loud motorcycle who just happens to live nearby. It’s nice for a change to be able to send or recieve a text or a call and be able to follow up by actually hanging out with that person in real time, like, any time. He is very open and intense and full of a certain charisma. Also, it was his house I drove to and shook and screamed when I learned of my former boyfriend being a conniving thief. So he’s hip to my currently jaded state of mind in regard to trusting and closeness etc. He knows what I literally just walked out of and he doesn’t push anything. I’ve been feeling pretty happy the past week believe, it or not.


He says I can get a new backup harddrive and start over; I guess his outlook applies to more than the harddrive…I think he’s pretty amazing.

Unhealthy.

I don’t want to describe any hurt feelings,
Or rake the coals over for any lost meanings,
I have no desire to dissect everything,
Or get to the bottom of your horrid mood swings,
There’s no use in spending a shred more on you,
This wide open freedom was long overdue,
Your venomous essence and landscape of doom,
Your sour-puss presence that swallows a room,
I feel many stones lighter since going my way,
That shadowy darkness is drifting away,
After over a year’s worth of character play,
Now I can focus on myself everyday,
I’m tired and weary of vampires like you,
Who do what you like and like what you do,
Getting over on anyone you can spit your lies to,
And you’ve got a chip on both shoulders, to boot,
The effect of seeing true colors at last,
Has been to make me question our collective past,
That pedestal crumbled and dumped you on your ass,
The truth has set me free to get far away, and fast;
And I know damned well that you’ll lie to yourself,
About the unfairness of the hand you’ve been dealt,
To transfer all blame is a game you can’t seem to help,
I finally comprehend how bad you’ve been for my health.

Doors – A Haiku.

They speak truth when they tell you:

“Closing will open.”…

…in regard to Life’s hallway.

Last Impressions.

When I first observed your shifty ways,
I glimpsed a foggy, underlying haze;
What is essential remained forever vague,
What was potential went black as plague;
Always heard it within your loud tendencies,
Your repeatedly blatant discrepancies,
Big stories, loud T-shirts and MP3s,
Oozing broken deficiencies,
Your endless supply of one-liner quips,
The total lack of any intact etiquette,
Your falsified versions of all kinds of shit,
How I wish that I never heard any of it;
Because now it’s a puzzle that boggles my brain,
How I bought such a lie sold by the insane,
I cringe at the close shave of taking that name,
From a dirty player playing in a filthy game;
With your perpetual spouting of little known facts,
The effectual role-play of good and kind acts,
A contextual manipulation that deviates from fact,
A perpetual accumulation of memories you’ve hacked
There was a gnawing feeling that I ignored,
Put to the side of who I thought I adored,
I forfeit a wager that I couldn’t afford,
I stupidly missed the big, bold underscore;
Despite your perceptions and points of view,
Your recollections are historically skewed,
With so many imperfections ever seeping through,
I should have spotted early on: the ugliness in you;
It doesn’t matter what you tell yourself to justify,
The bigger picture painted is a tainted, ugly lie,
The glory fizzled out then shriveled up and died,
Left it on the curb with your sulfuric sense of pride.
But you made it so simpler to strap up my boots,
To finally stamp out embers and sweep out the soot,
I won’t remember much of some thieving crook,
Or the irreplaceable piece of equipment he took.

Stolen Smiles.

I bet you think,
that you got me,
you think,
some rinky-dink,
cheap hoodwink,
can shock me?
You need to,
see a shrink,
exclusively,
immediately,
can you say,
“shock therapy”?
You like to think,
your shit don’t stink,
stupidly,
not shocking,
You think you’re,
the only geek,
with a nod and wink,
who’s rocking?
You think like,
a cracked-out tweak,
on a shopping spree,
heart stopping,
shit talking,
You think a,
decryption key,
means shit to me?
unlocking,
You think it,
doesn’t wreak,
of thievery,
such mockery,
call blocking,
You think you’re,
the only freak,
the only skumbag thief,
who’s stalked me?
You think,
the doublespeak,
the hyperlinks,
the subtleties,
cock-blocking,
You think me,
mild and meek,
words I speak,
empty miscellany,
just squawking,
You think you,
can hinder me,
in my stepping,
or render me,
unsuspecting,
of your indecency,
insolently,
emptily,
keep thinking,
keep trying,
quit weaseling,
quit lying,
You’re unforgiven,
how unforeseen,
was the dying,
of a beloved king,
the defying of,
defaming of,
decomposing of,
love’s creamy dreams,
reinforcing of,
sharpened,
hardened,
darkened things,
broken wings,
Screams curdling,
frozen hearted,
cement-shoed,
bound to settle in,
down you go again,
unthinkably,
unspeakably,
Reactively,
you’re scaly,
snakeskinny,
filthy to your DNA,
How ya like me now?
Please sink and drown,
Or swim away,
into yesterday,
on your back belly up,
Contentedly,
Complacently,
Away from me,
I’ll steal
what’s left of,
your smile,
while you cry,
like a child in your sleep.





Stay Up On Your Feet.

People say things easily.
Mostly, being insincere.
They strive to weasel into your life and prove something to themselves.
Something rotten and reminiscent of toxic spores. They aim to break the strength they see in you, to make the beautiful into the hideous.
They want to see you cry and beg.
They aim to show you new lows.
They aim to make you alone.
They aim to silently poison your table of knights one by one.
They feign love.
They indignify truth through their very existences.
These people want to be a victim, always; unable to endure what doesn’t fit into a pre-self-determined reality that’s far from being real.
People like this can’t (won’t/don’t) help themselves from being the epitome of protervity and narcissism.
It’s often quite easy to glimpse the actual pig’s (from the state of perpetual pig-headedness of such people) features at times, if you concentrate long enough on their’ faces.
These people are truly hopeless, and entangling yourself with one of them will inarguably take years off of your life.
People need to sleep at night (well, most people, at least) and throughout their’ lives, have honed the art of achieving said sleep by any and all means necessary.
It doesn’t matter who they have to steal from, lie to or cheat on.
Most people are either like puppets or puppeteers.
They can be dragged around by a string and made to do another’s bidding – to be the butt of another’s constant stream of jokes and gags and be kept in a box out of sight, some asshole’s means of venting his subliminal machinations; or they can be the one dragging the strings and throwing their’ voices, the people harboring silently forlorn grudges against all of humanity.
People who feel it necessary to repeatedly outline the purity and righteousness of the lives they lead might as well wear a t-shirt that reads:
“Hey. I’m a fucking Fatmouth. Don’t believe a word I tell you about myself. I’m worth more dead.”
These are the same people who know – deep down – that not a decent individual in the world holds any sentiment in his/her direction, not even mom or dad, usually. Grandma even disowned these people, even, in her own heart.
These are the people who vampire your cha-cha and exhaust you in totality.
Don’t let this brand of evil wash out your colors and make you feel like a faded version of yourself.
These are the people you exchange faked smiles with anytime you meet eachother.
Try to keep those meetings at a minimum.

Charlatanical.

Shitty tattoos,
Absent front tooth,
Alcohol infused,
Jaw flapping,
Knuckles rapping,
Air leaking through,
Big brown eyes,
Telling nonstop lies,
You’re fucking high,
Unclean,
Unforeseen,
Not enough miles between,
That stinky lifestyle,
The steaming shitpile,
Rusted turnstiles,
Nothing worthwhile,
I lost too,
Much to you,
It’s all bled through,
The truth,
Fire country,
Attention hungry,
Back full of monkeys,
There’s no saving you,
You’re too far beyond,
Slithering, And talking long,
There’s no fixing you,
You built a filthy empire,
Of stolen shit like copper wire,
Look around you everywhere,
Noone is standing there,
Nobody wants to associate,
With your town’s smartest primate,
Give me what’s mine,
Cross back over that line,
Just one last time,
And hand it back at last,
You’ve showed your ass,
To a piece of your past,
That you let slip from your hand,
I hope you do understand,
I’m a lamb,
You’re no man,
Just sit down and realize,
Conceptualize,
Perpetulize,
The demolition of facades,
Crumbling,
Numbing,
Stumbling along,
You’ve predicted all wrong,
It’s all gone,
Non-materialized
Bad breath,
Rotting death,
Inside decayed,
Like words you’ve said,
Like lives you’ve led,
Into the flames of Hell,
I recall well,
And time will tell,
Your tongue will burn,
With lessons learned,
Too late,
Too low,
And now you know,
Your blade never sliced into me,
The games that you play,
Didn’t defeat me,
I’m standing tall,
And fine, overall,
It’s the likes of you, afterall, Who will inevitability crawl.

Like The Day Is Long.

If I could bottle my own motivations,
And drop that bottle into the open void,
If I could paint a scene of my own salvation,
And have it hand delivered by the one decoyed;

If I could wrap my severed hands in an icebox,
Mail them across the seas to my partner in crime,
If I could say blessings over freckles and dreadlocks,
If I could throw you a party with silent mimes;

If I could will myself to feel your presence now,
If my strength held up even halfway to your own,
If I I could let you lick my wounds somehow,
If I could warm my soul at your hearthstone;

If I could articulate the growing hole in my heart,
If I could lift the fog from the inky moors of my mind,
If I could capitulate to the the cold and dark,
If I could sift the bog for my lost days’ worth of time;

If I could bake you an edible birthday cake,
If I could share your laughter on the windswept shore,
If I could be enlightened by the time it’d take,
If I could swear not to care anymore;

If I could write down all the ways I adore you,
If I could stay on pitch and sing you a song,
If I could bite down on any hand that’s hurt you,
If I could, I would; like the day is long.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY SAM
(The Bear Trainer)

https://amalijaamalie.wordpress.com/


❤ From your ever-faithful sidekick.

A Term Used Too Loosely .

Trust is a concept not wholly foreign to me,

though I can’t say I’ve known its full capacity,

I have no logical reason to trust anybody,

the truth shows how folks aren’t so trustworthy;

I was good ‘n fucked up before turning age twenty-three,

I was still desperately hungry for compatibility,

I was open to the notion of such vulnerability,

but, I was lucky to survive such young naivety;

“Relationships” are only hazy mirrors with smoke screens,

Kindnesses and considerations attached to puppet strings,

A song and dance deliverance that molds every human being,

A long, enhanced belligerence that ruins everything;

Dragges away from yesterday,

kicking and screaming,

Have to portray that I’m fine this way,

like my mind’s not smoldering,

And pass the wait in the sullen state,

of accepting ugly things,

cast the fate beneath the sinking weight,

that’s perpetually burdening.

Aftertaste.

Here it is:

 

The truth is never kind, remember?

What’s kind is rarely true.

You taught me that.

It was a lesson that actually sunk in, too.

Now it’s part of me.

So I guess you are too.

But, just not in a good way.

I was very upset for like a half hour this morning; after tasting the semi-familiar flavor of your words and how you use them.

I used to be so impressed by your wordsmithing; you know it’s true.

Today’s flavor, however, left a wretched, bitter aftertaste in my mouth.

After actually looking at your face again for the first time in over a year, it’s strange to me.

The vague and foreign-feeling man I see is a stranger.

There’s no stirring in my guts of those long gone butterflies.

There’s no emotional spark up my spine.

A smile no longer reflexively cracks across my face upon seeing yours.

Today, I realized I’ve really made a big mistake.

I was always in my own right to hate you – who you are.

Lately, the way I have been feeling so confusedly heartbroken over you again like it’s a fresh slight.

It’s like I stepped out of a time machine and am lagging in past circumstances while the rest of the world has gone on without me.

So I went back over things associated with the period of time from which I dissociated and checked out – specifically, things attached to you and me.

I learned that my alter ego dealt with you swiftly and coolly, as was only appropriate at the time.

Given how I had somehow managed to completely block out all the low-blows and cold-hearted actions on your part during that time-frame (not to mention all the venomous things you spewed at me non-stop while my Mom was newly diagnosed and dying), it’s a miracle I ever began to tolerate your presence in the Universe again at all, in any context.

I look in my settings on different websites to find your username and old IP Address on the blacklists everywhere.

Upon re-familiarizing myself with the sticky cobwebs, ghostly threats and promises of it all (and I do mean ALL of it), my mind became better able to recall the better portion of everything:

√ My desperation to shake you off my leg,

√ My feelings of suffocation and my anxious state of mind,

√ My fear of the overwhelming weight of it all,

√ Your incessant neediness and misdirected anger,

It was not “love”…it was not “love” at all…

It was just another missing chunk of time from my life that some buzzing sound in the back of my head tries to embed as having been “love”, historically.

Because, my brain needs to feel as if it has been “loved”, known “love”…actually felt “love” somewhere in those missing chunks of time, by someone.

It didn’t have to be you.

If it wasn’t you, it’d been the next guy down the line.

So it’s true: You are nothing special and neither am I.

WE are nothing and never were and I see that now and agree with you.

Kidding ourselves…

Not cut out to take a stroll through a park together.

Doomed from the gate.

Aye.

 

Fool The World.

Who do you think you are?
…to tell me anything of my success (or lack thereof) in climbing out of my own very personal Hell to face the world on my own two feet, without the shelter of duplicity; when that girl you used to think you knew has been dead and buried for 27 cold months, without your having the slightest clue of that fact…like you’ve been here…ever…like you can even begin to count my sorrows on your ten arthritic fingers…like you can even begin to fathom the hem of my garment…like you can ever say that you “know” me or anything that I am or am not. Who do think you are to pass your own pompously final judgment on what kind of thing I can or cannot be? Who the fuck are you to render me unworthy of walking in your park? Who do you think you are to attempt to make me feel “loved” and “appreciated” by sending me boxes full of my sledgehammered heart’s dusty remains…with a grenade pin at the very bottom. Who do you think you are to poke my unhealed wounds? Do you think you are something special now, after all is finally said, and, I unquestionably know how little I ever meant to both air holes on either side of your neck, despite the sweet nothings blowing out of each one? Who do you think you are to tell me that I’ve won…won at a game that I never wanted to play…that I’ve won, when it feels like sheer nothingness…
Your meager attempts at life have always earned you too much of a harvest with little effort put forth…so self-absorbed and incompetent at being the things you try so hard to portray…
But that’s all you are…is a portrayal on screen.
You’re image is grainy and you’re faded beyond recognition, you always were.


Really, who do you think you are?…to burrow yourself into my soils and explode like nuclear fission beneath the roots of my stunted trees? You hold no sway over me, you can’t hold the tethers that string to my blackened, squelching heart…you can’t hold the tethers that string to that cavernous pit in your own chest where a heart should be…who do you think you are, anyway…to surprise me with such a heinous and poisonous truth behind your essence…to release the toxic particulate of your explosive insecurities into my atmosphere…raining down your ice cold rivulets of self-loathing from the skies above my fugue. Who you are to the rest of world, the world you try so tirelessly to fool, the one all around you – you are what you are…but just who do you think that broken thing is? You ooze brokenness…despite your self exonerating conceit…
I know who you think you are…and let me tell you that it actually coincides with who I once thought you were, the similarities are uncanny…but the lights go out over the memory of all that. The lights go out behind the curtains of your fucking languish…and evermore, phantoms of your gains and losses will trickle through your simple brain and leave a stain across your nose. You clean up nicely though, and need not worry about the soul you’ve sold to fool the world.

Came and Gone.

Her back knows the door all too well.

“I needed you to be real.” She says
<absently>

“I’ll have to write down all the ways you’ve betrayed me;
my memory doesn’t work so well, especially when I am caught up.. ”

She’s thinking…
(a decisive stare)

“How can you look yourself in the mirror?…lying like you do;
I don’t need this shit right now
I shouldn’t be here!”

He asks…
<matter-of-factly>

“Does the rain bleed sideways always?  Or does it come in sporadic torrents spurting out
covering everything like a permanent stain?”

His self-absorption is tangible; he continues…
(A hollow stare)

“I knew where you were the whole time, but to be honest, I couldn’t wait, I had things to do – with or without you…”

He stops speaking
<ponderously>
Then he adds
“I’m a hollow man, what can I say?”

She ignores that and says
(solemnly)

“I don’t sleep so well
insomnia from hell, really.
She gets her claws into me
so that I trance the rage.
Over and over and over and
over again it’s almost comical”

Bemused he says:

“But it’s more than just caffeine
you need on most days right?
I see you in paintings everyday
you are always so resigned in your poses. You can either look like something isvcoming around the corner at youvor you can look like you have beheld the Gods…although none of that matters, you’re dust in the wind to me.”

“Easy for you to say,”

She sobs
(endearingly)

“I think I’ll die now. I can’t
remember all these details.
My memory can play tricks on me sometimes I feel like I’m an actress in my very own horror flick. I watch the scenes go by indifferently perhaps if I got the cobwebs out I’d be able to see things more clearly;
find the pause button, you know?
I never did dye my hair…”

she says wistfully
(her repose that of an abandoned orphan)

He laughs inside.
He says
(insincerely)

“I love your hair just the way it is”

then he says
(Wickedly)

“Although, I must say, blue would really bring out your intense sadness;
he wonders…
“will she believe my horseshit? If she’s gullible enough, shall I tell her I will be betwixt and between? Within and
without always just a touch away until she works through her shit? Should I take the leap and claim that I will be around ‘permanently’?”

She smirks
(jadedly)

“The world is ending as you speak. You know, usually
I play those same tapes,
over and over and over….
well, you get the idea.”

then she says
(rather adroitly)
“…you know I simply spend a fuckload of time just trying to
get back to square one whatever
square one is is.”

He replies
<dramatically>

“Well square-fucking-one certainly
doesn’t fit your puzzle, does it?”

He leans in
(purposefully)

“I mean, all the truths have
transformed, they are so harsh, that they’re hard not to recognize.”

He leans away
<permanently>

“Are they not?”
He sniffs
<pompously>

I must say you adapt quite well.”

She laughs
<bitterly>

“Shit, dude, I have to give you credit for your perseverance in haunting my life, miserable as it is…you get the gold star award ⭐ for shallowness and cruelty. You think you’re so high and mighty but you’re closer and closer to being nothing at all in my heart or mind…”
She shakes her head
<wearily>

Christ is it time already?

“I gotta get outta here. This is not the best place on most days.
It clouds my judgment.
It needs replacing,
This place, it’s cracked and warping.”

He rises
(instinctively)

“Thanks for stopping in.  I’ll
make sure I have you so pumped full of hatred next time you come and go.
I found the machismo inside of myself to assure that you will quite vividly recall, by my insolently reminding you through my soulless actions, the poking of your bear by a legend such as myself. God you’re lucky to have known me in your life, you have no clue how awesome I am. Will you do me a huge favor?”

He asks
(Childishly)

“Sure”
she says, rising
(Hatred imperceptible)

He puts his dog’s hands on her small frame;
looking at her
<dolefully>

He whispers
<emptily>

“Just remember I meant none of it when I said ‘come and go’
as you please” when I said that you can use my place whenever you need it…
I know you’ll be sure to keep holding on to this promise all your days in utter vain. You happen to be quite masterful at that.  And don’t worry,
I will continue to keep an eye out you know, for you.”

She smiles tightly
(so anxious)

Glances a chop to his croaky throat turns and says
almost as an afterthought

“Aye, I know. I’m always taking stock, sorting
inventory, cleaning the messes up. I got your “come and go”right here!”

She makes a hip pumping motion that translates into sex.
<Angrily. Passionately>

“But you know where it is.”
She shakes her again as she permanently exits this place, his life.
<sadly>

As the door closes behind her

He thinks,
(Comfortably)

“Not really. But I am lying,
I am lying.”

Her back knows the door all too well.

“I needed you to be real.” She says
<absently>

“I’ll have to write down all the ways you’ve betrayed me;
my memory doesn’t work so well, especially when I am caught up.. ”

She’s thinking…
(a decisive stare)

“How can you look yourself in the mirror?…lying like you did;
I don’t need this shit right now
I shouldn’t be here!”

He asks…
<matter-of-factly>

“Does the rain bleed sideways always?  Or does it come in sporadic torrents spurting out
covering everything like a permanent stain?”

His self-absorption is tangible; he continues…
(A hollow stare)

“I knew where you were the whole time, but to be honest, I couldn’t wait, I had things to do – with or without you…”

He stops speaking
<ponderously>
Then he adds
“I’m a hollow man, what can I say?”

She ignores that and says
(solemnly)

“I don’t sleep so well
insomnia from hell, really.
She gets her claws into me
so that I trance the rage.
Over and over and over and
over again it’s almost comical.  I can’t wait until the coffee is so strong that it sends her into a tailspin for once.  Just once…”

Bemused he says:

“But it’s more than just caffeine
you need on most days right?
I see you in paintings everyday
you are always so resigned in your poses. You can either look like something isvcoming around the corner at youvor you can look like you have beheld the Gods…although none of that matters, you’re dust in the wind to me.”

“Easy for you to say,”

She sobs
(endearingly)

“I think I’ll die now. I can’t
remember all these details.
My memory can play tricks on me sometimes I feel like I’m an actress in my very own horror flick. I watch the scenes go by indifferently perhaps if I got the cobwebs out I’d be able to see things more clearly;
find the pause button, you know?
I never did dye my hair…”

she says wistfully
(her repose that of an abandoned orphan)

He laughs inside.
He says
(insincerely)

“I love your hair just the way it is”

then he says
(Wickedly)

“Although, I must say, blue would really bring out your intense sadness;
he wonders…
“will she believe my horseshit? If she’s gullible enough, will you tell her I will be betwixt and between? Within and
without always just a touch away until she works through her shit? I will be around permanently.”

She smirks
(jadedly)

“The world is ending as you speak. You know, usually
she plays those same tapes,
over and over and over….
well, you get the idea.”

then she says
(rather adroitly)
“…you know I simply spend a fuckload of time just trying to
get back to square one whatever
square one is is.”

He replies
<dramatically>

“Well square-fucking-one certainly
doesn’t fit your puzzle, does it?”

He leans in
(purposefully)

“I mean, all the truths have
transformed, they are so harsh, that they’re hard not to recognize.”

He leans away
<permanently>

“Are they not?”
He sniffs
<pompously>

I must say you adapt quite well.”

She laughs
<bitterly>

“Shit, dude, I have to give you credit for your perseverance in haunting my life, miserable as it is…you get the gold star award ⭐ for shallowness and cruelty. You think you’re so high and mighty but you’re closer and closer to being nothing at all in my heart or mind…”
She shakes her head
<wearily>

Christ is it time already?

“I gotta get outta here. This is not the best place on most days.
It clouds my judgment.
It needs replacing,
This place, it’s cracked and warping.”

He rises
(instinctively)

“Thanks for stopping in.  I’ll
make sure I have you so pumped full of hatred next time you come and go.
I found the machismo inside of myself to assure that you will quite vividly recall, by my insolently reminding you through my soulless actions, the poking of your bear by a legend such as myself. God you’re lucky to have known me in your life, you have no clue how awesome I am. Will you do me a huge favor?”

He asks
(Childishly)

“Sure”
she says, rising
(Hatred imperceptible)

He puts his dog’s hands on her small frame;
looking at her
<dolefully>

He whispers
<emptily>

“Just remember I meant none of it when I said ‘come and go’
as you please” when I said that you can use my place whenever you need it…
I know you’ll be sure to keep holding on to this promise all your days in utter vain. You happen to be quite masterful at that.  And don’t worry,
I will continue to keep an eye out you know, for you.”

She smiles tightly
(so anxious)

Glances a chop to his croaky throat turns and says
almost as an afterthought

“Aye, I know. I’m always taking stock, sorting
inventory, cleaning the messes up. I got your “come and go”right here!”

She makes a hip pumping motion that translates into sex.
<Angrily. Passionately>

“But you know where it is.”
She shakes her again as she permanently exits this place, his life.
<sadly>

As the door closes behind her

He thinks,
(Comfortably)

“Not really. But I am lying,
I am lying.”

Her back knows the door all too well.

“I needed you to be real.” She says
<absently>

“I’ll have to write down all the ways you’ve betrayed me;
my memory doesn’t work so well, especially when I am caught up.. ”

She’s thinking…
(a decisive stare)

“How can you look yourself in the mirror?…lying like you did;
I don’t need this shit right now
I shouldn’t be here!”

He asks…
<matter-of-factly>

“Does the rain bleed sideways always?  Or does it come in sporadic torrents spurting out
covering everything like a permanent stain?”

His self-absorption is tangible; he continues…
(A hollow stare)

“I knew where you were the whole time, but to be honest, I couldn’t wait, I had things to do – with or without you…”

He stops speaking
<ponderously>
Then he adds
“I’m a hollow man, what can I say?”

She ignores that and says
(solemnly)

“I don’t sleep so well
insomnia from hell, really.
She gets her claws into me
so that I trance the rage.
Over and over and over and
over again it’s almost comical.  I can’t wait until the coffee is so strong that it sends her into a tailspin for once.  Just once…”

Bemused he says:

“But it’s more than just caffeine
you need on most days right?
I see you in paintings everyday
you are always so resigned in your poses. You can either look like something isvcoming around the corner at youvor you can look like you have beheld the Gods…although none of that matters, you’re dust in the wind to me.”

“Easy for you to say,”

She sobs
(endearingly)

“I think I’ll die now. I can’t
remember all these details.
My memory can play tricks on me sometimes I feel like I’m an actress in my very own horror flick. I watch the scenes go by indifferently perhaps if I got the cobwebs out I’d be able to see things more clearly;
find the pause button, you know?
I never did dye my hair…”

she says wistfully
(her repose that of an abandoned orphan)

He laughs inside.
He says
(insincerely)

“I love your hair just the way it is”

then he says
(Wickedly)

“Although, I must say, blue would really bring out your intense sadness;
he wonders…
“will she believe my horseshit? If she’s gullible enough, will you tell her I will be betwixt and between? Within and
without always just a touch away until she works through her shit? I will be around permanently.”

She smirks
(jadedly)

“The world is ending as you speak. You know, usually
she plays those same tapes,
over and over and over….
well, you get the idea.”

then she says
(rather adroitly)
“…you know I simply spend a fuckload of time just trying to
get back to square one whatever
square one is is.”

He replies
<dramatically>

“Well square-fucking-one certainly
doesn’t fit your puzzle, does it?”

He leans in
(purposefully)

“I mean, all the truths have
transformed, they are so harsh, that they’re hard not to recognize.”

He leans away
<permanently>

“Are they not?”
He sniffs
<pompously>

I must say you adapt quite well.”

She laughs
<bitterly>

“Shit, dude, I have to give you credit for your perseverance in haunting my life, miserable as it is…you get the gold star award ⭐ for shallowness and cruelty. You think you’re so high and mighty but you’re closer and closer to being nothing at all in my heart or mind…”
She shakes her head
<wearily>

Christ is it time already?

“I gotta get outta here. This is not the best place on most days.
It clouds my judgment.
It needs replacing,
This place, it’s cracked and warping.”

He rises
(instinctively)

“Thanks for stopping in.  I’ll
make sure I have you so pumped full of hatred next time you come and go.
I found the machismo inside of myself to assure that you will quite vividly recall, by my insolently reminding you through my soulless actions, the poking of your bear by a legend such as myself. God you’re lucky to have known me in your life, you have no clue how awesome I am. Will you do me a huge favor?”

He asks
(Childishly)

“Sure”
she says, rising
(Hatred imperceptible)

He puts his dog’s hands on her small frame;
looking at her
<dolefully>

He whispers
<emptily>

“Just remember I meant none of it when I said ‘come and go’
as you please” when I said that you can use my place whenever you need it…
I know you’ll be sure to keep holding on to this promise all your days in utter vain. You happen to be quite masterful at that.  And don’t worry,
I will continue to keep an eye out you know, for you.”

She smiles tightly
(so anxious)

Glances a chop to his croaky throat turns and says
almost as an afterthought

“Aye, I know. I’m always taking stock, sorting
inventory, cleaning the messes up. I got your “come and go”right here!”

She makes a hip pumping motion that translates into sex.
<Angrily. Passionately>

“But you know where it is.”
She shakes her again as she permanently exits this place, his life.
<sadly>

As the door closes behind her

He thinks,
(Comfortably)

“Not really. But I am lying,
I am lying.”

Decryption.

So my Bit Locker backup harddrive went missing between 1 and 3 months ago; an event that has caused many wasted hours in vain, searching for something that I couldn’t understand was actually physically gone from my possession. This drive has EVERYTHING of any importance to me and, has the datum equivalent of my existence on it. This drive has been my perpetual data dump since I left the tax firm in 2013. After so many days of panic and stress over the unknown location of this piece of equipment went by without even the slightest insight of where in the Hell it could have gone, I was exhausted by the search and had given up hope for the time being, figuring that like so many things in my life go, it would eventually turn up most unexpectedly.

Yesterday, after days and days of viscous cycling of the tensions between myself and the absolute WORM who I’ve been stupidly calling my “fiancé” and/or boyfriend for quite some time (over a fucking joke of a year and a half), I broke it off for good by wishing him well in future days and explaining that he’s been perpetually out of line as well as out of touch with reality in regard to his constant accusations and explosive and toxic mood swings etc.

His response was to say,

“For the record, Bit Locker encryption is simple to crack.”

My end of the line went deeply silent and then a dial tone on his end.

My mind was reeling from his subtle admission. I know he’s not lying about having my Bit Locker because I never mentioned it’s disappearance to him in the time since he left my residence after staying with me for Thanksgiving. Everything fell mentally into place though, and I am now swallowing the unexpected reality of the person I’ve retarded placed my EVERYTHING in has, in actuality, been using and playing me for a very long time.

When I eventually said something along the lines of:

“So you’re not only a liar but you’re also a thief?”

Because this fucking weasel has always talked long shit about how he’ll “have nothing to do with cheaters, liars and/or thieves”, the slight wasn’t felt slightly but quite substantially by me. So now it all makes sense, how he went home after Thanksgiving with a stolen piece of my property and weaseled his way into my privacy like a WORM.
I don’t know what all is on that harddrive, there’s so much stuff on there from many people’s computers over the years; including my Mom and my Daughter’s. This time very personal time capsule of information and historical data also includes all of my photos of ex boyfriends (meaningful or otherwise), childhood, family (dead, missing or alive), as well as any other document attached to my existence over the past decade or more. It was a thing that never saw the light of day and was permanently at my residence.
My piece of shit former fiancé rifled through my shit and stole it from my house while visiting me for Thanksgiving! The implication behind his performing such an action while we were supposedly on the happiest of terms has staggered my ability to be sensible. I am feeling so incredibly violated by someone (some… thing) who I’ve worked hard to let into my hyper-vigilant and sheltered stronghold.

These things jade me beyond words.

My heart has hardened once again over night, and the world is a much blacker and ugly fucking place today, like it always used to be…like it’s apparently going to be forever.

I am very full of regret and self-loathing at present; I hate myself for making such a stupid and lasting mistake in the character of someone who got closest to me of all. I hate myself for being myself. I’m likely not going to write for a while here. This website is like a haunting ghost in its own right.

Newly twisted and caught up.

Not giving a fuck.

…just another in a long line of men who misrepresented themselves and turned out to be a sham.

Kidding.

Americana Injustica

Beautiful, gorgeous, happy glow…
Your Sweetest Nothing’s
put into syllables, for show.
Fiery, wanting…
glued to your face
your mouth’s curves
a daunting place…
I’ve been before
But tell me how – I bow down
into the splinters and cinders
that litter the floors
like your long line of whores
I see them all,
I chooseto ignore…
You never answer questions
your many Life Lessons
have taught you little of
the snap inside my rubber glove
We are meant to Own our possessions.
Are we not?
You have seen quite a lot
Of my flesh,
Camera flash;
digitalized dash
in red LED text;
what now?
Onto the next…
Right?
Or am I wrong?
Am I dumb
To play along?
See here’s the thing:
I see the strings
Attached to each one
Of your crispy clean
cummerbunds…
I see the line of
Space and time,
wrapped inside
Of that tattoo…

View original post 219 more words

History.

I dont know which thing hurts more
The extended hand or the drum sealed door
Wounds burn and sting and bring pain ever more
Tidings that ring singing dark metaphors.
I’m on my own and alone this New Year
The flesh and bone of a crone lives here
Long gone is the thrown of the insincere
I sit alone chilled to bone feeling insecure.
A forgotten vow now drowns out the past
An unbidden sound pounds in wicked contrast
A downtrodden clown bound to eventually laugh
A filth sodden town crumbling down when I pass.
I don’t see how things perceived
Can cast the runes of possibility
At last I do grasp the doom you conceived
The fact that you belong to my history.

Yeah yeah yeah.

So when I used to have this horribly monsterous and abusive husband, one of the things most strongly engrained in my memory about that period of my life is how I was accused of things constantly; things that never even crossed my mind, much less actually represented reality.
I vividly recall waking up one night from a dead sleep in my bed to his hands around my throat being choked nearly to death because he truly believed that I had been flashing signals and signs out the window to a car that kept driving back-and-forth up-and-down our street in the middle of the night. The reality behind this was that I had no clue who that person in that car was; and, definitely had not been flashing signals and/or signs to them from my window; I had been out cold with a sinus infection.
My recollections of that period in my life are full of such instances; times when I had absolutely no control or involvement in the things that I was paying the most brutal consequences for. The helplessness that defined my life during those years was immense; so immense, that it’s still with me to some extent, even today.
My most recent attempt at a meaningful and worthwhile relationship has failed at last.

This has been partially due to certain lingering effects of my own residual trauma i.e. the inability I continue to harbor reagarding trust and commitment, its true.
But the main cause behind the most recent going down in flames I’ve actually come to recognize and acknowledge for what it has turned out to be:
My natural response to the helplessness put forth as a result of repeatedly being accused of things I haven’t done.
I have come too far to fall back down into such a miserable situation in which my own true identity has been marred by the paranoid and insecure notions of the other person in the relationship.

That is not a relationship. And that is not healthy. I’m striving for healthy and have realized that the thing I’ve come to comfortably call “my relationship” was (from the beginning) the opposite of what I’ve been seeking out.

Inward and upward, though.

It’s a new year.

Staggering.

Goodbyes that are perpetual,
The lies that are eventual,
Replies ringing contextual,
Both my hands hang at my sides;


Strive to covtrive the beautiful,
Survive and defy the refutable,
Alive in what’s wise and meaningful,
There’s a flaw in my design;


The fling flung at the unbearable,
A thing that’s become something terrible,
A string strung from me to the pedestal,
Emptiness clouds my mind;


Regret will pervade the unmemorable,
Dissent describes the unfavorable,
Neglect persuades the inevitable,
I can’t claim to wonder why;


Moments unraveled into landmines,
Torment travels through real time,
Encroachments that sting all my blood line,
So staggeringly ill-defined;


This face, tattooed by suffering,
Disgrace has a presence that’s smothering,
Replace the sheer essence of everything,
Recovery’s not always kind.

Thank You.

It’s been a whirlwind knowing you…I don’t need to say this though because you know.

I know that you know.

I genuinely love you. I meant all I said, everything.

And it’s because of this that I wish you well in life; and I am warmed by the knowledge of your fulfillment and happiness.

I toast your future.

Have a nice life.

Skeleton.

Why dont you just finally,
Twist the knife you’ve stuck in me,
Watch the life drain out of me,
And wash your hands until they bleed?


All the pain you’ve given me,
Can finally drain away with ease,
But I can’t sustain this injury,
While you maintain the olive tree.


Cant you find the subtlety,
Of disinclined humanity,
To tow the line reluctantly,
As far as it can get from me?


A thing living opportunistically,
Too weakened by your own recovery,
A wisdom lost on all who see,
The lies of a wise sobriety.


If there’s a real bone in your skeleton,
Any semblance of what is a gentlman,
Any scrap of yourself that is genuine,
This appeal has been sent to him.

Drying Drops of Love.

Such articulated truths,
Much anticipated moves,
Beneath the sky,
I wonder why,
What’s the fucking use?


To know you pondered aloud,
The wonder of something you found,
In the wake of,
Drying drops of my love,
You cast your chance around.


How could it surprise you?
When none of it was really new,
No profound sensations,
To feed such ruminations,
As the shit that you cyber-spew.


Wow…but it’s nothing new,
Now your choices strike back at you?
Fool me twice,
Against all advice,
The venom in my veins courses blue.


You’ve cloned and cookie cut my dreams,
You’ve proven nothing is ever what it seems,
Fists up to you,
Untried and untrue,
The likes of you can’t fuck with me.

1/2 Hour Life-Span.

I love how you fancy yourself,
Sending gifts and wishes well,
Lending bits of your own Living Hell
But underneath you’re corrosive still
I love how you randomly pose as my friend
Obviously not wanting to tie this loose end
You act like your choices aren’t hard to defend
You’re onward and upward and I’m dust in your wind
I love the fact that you’ve traced around
The base I laid out on solid ground
While your betrayal has been quite profound
You remain unwilling to own it now
I love how you jumped from the frying pan
Into the flames of a garbage can
You cursed possibility before it began
With the harshest reality that you’re a conman




Uh Huh Uh.

I remember the burn from that spark
The contender that lit fire in the dark
An ember that fueled the flame in my heart
Your tender and rendered permanent mark

I remember you shouldered my load
When the rest only sputtered and slowed
How the words and the feelings just flowed
Your timbre like a salve to my soul

I recollect how I committed my time
To resurrect this heart of mine
To interject and redefine
The dialect between you and I

I still read your words of encouragement
That fill my bones with deep nourishment
And I will, as you know, be ever present
Stand until you forego and tell me to sit

Turbulent.

The shifty turbulence,
Cruel and purposeless,
A great big oozing lie,
Can’t look myself in the mirror,
At a lie so insincere,
A plight so insecure,
So unaware,
It’s clear.
Until I throw them up again,
The feathers of a friend,
I’ll be choking on what could’ve,
Would’ve, should’ve been,And my smile still represents,
A path of wild turbulence,
Nothing has a meaning,
The words make little sense,
The world oozes petulance,
A tilt that’s off by mere degrees,
Stirs up the fear, hate and cruelty,
It spins the tattered yarn of humanity,
It kills us when we’re feigning sleep,
And worsens the curse of the seed,
Lengthening the reach of power and greed,
It quickens the wound that perpetually bleeds,
It thickens our ties to the lies and deceit.

 

 

 

 

  

Oceans of Tears.

Americana Injustica

Oceans

of tears

in contortion

twisted

emotions

reappear

to wash

once more

momentum

in motion

ashore

sweeping sands

through

the funnel

of an hourglass

a cleansing

of the

memories

like driftwood

drifting

battering

as they be

tumbling

they roll

and swell

sharp as hell

slice skin

jagged sea-shells

fit to

beat my

bones until

I howl

and bleed.

View original post

Topsoil.

Americana Injustica

There is an ugly secret
In the form of topsoil
Piled upon the surface
At the site of your burial
Whenever I’m here I see it
As if I fall under a spell
I still can’t fully believe it
Despite what history must tell
It’s a very heavy mystery
So long later down the line
A burden shouldered perpetually
After a decade’s worth of time
I remember standing for hours
In that place right over there
Torrential rain and thunder showers
Soaked clothes and soggy hair
But I could never bring myself
To go from this place easily
And every time I’d finally go
The loss of you felt new to me
I carry your secrets
Kept as my own still
I harbour your worries
And I always will.

View original post

Ungodly Deep.

Trust and believe, the total and complete –
lack of any kind of silver lining,
in the fuck-of-a-mess that’s buried me,
is hardly lost on the cost of things;
it’s a game that runs perpetually –
it’s a death march to most certain defeat,
a defeat that will find me, inevitably;
a Speed Metal drummer keeps beat, accordingly,
that hammers my chest with anxiety,
welds to the ankle bones of both my tired feet:
anchors that will sink the likes of me quickly,
kicking and screaming until I’m sleeping peacefully,
a slow-motion fall to the trench of the sea –
like a feather pushed out of a high-speed Jet-stream,
like a bowed ballerina after tip-toed dancing,
a deep, dark blue silence that calls me from deep;
faces of creatures swim in, brimmed with curiosity,
to glimpse the resistance of my sinking body,
to the darkness of what’s unknown to me;
the end of my descent comes too finally –
the anchors have found me a permanent thing,
and so it goes that it may just very well be:
that all the hurt and guilt and all the years of misery,
brought me to a resting place so dark, it’s ungodly,
to counter in death the heights life has shown to me.

Face of Mendacity.

Yes it has, and admittedly;

Come to pass unpredictably,

The blades of grass are far from green,

No matter how fast I rearrange things.

In a palsied flash I see everything,

I cry and I laugh at what it all means,

Hope gets smashed to smithereens,

a high-speed crash into humanity.

A skinned carcass hung out and withering,

A trophy the hunter left disintegrating,

A nothing that no one can recall clearly,

Something hung in the sun to spin limply .

Yes it does, and quite totally;

blows my mind dumbfoundedly,

spends my time confoundedly,

by stinging my eyes perpetually.

But the tears I produce don’t mean anything,

just another excuse to curse the deities,

my tongue’s gotten loose and lashed back at me,

for speaking the truth in the face of mendacity.