It Hurts.

me n mama 2017

“Watching your mother tortuously and slowly sink into the grips of death is equal to that of existing on a daily basis without being able to make anything at all better for someone who has always found a way to make things better for me.”

Come and Go.

A Masterpiece that will always deeply touch and move me; one that I can’t take credit for.

It’s by Rob (Just Ruminating) and it’s a powerful, powerful piece.

it’s called “Come and Go”; enjoy…

Come and Go

Her back never faces the door

“I’ll only need you on certain days”

she says
(absently)

“I’ll have to write them down
my memory doesn’t work so well
especially when I am caught up”

she’s thinking
(a lovely stare)

“Who is that in the mirror?
Where did she come from
why the fuck is she here?
I don’t need this shit right now
She shouldn’t be here!”

I ask
(matter-of-factly)

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

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
almost comical.  I can’t wait
until the coffee is so strong that
it sends her into a
tailspin for once.  Just once…”

Bemused I say

“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 is
coming around the corner at you
or you can look like
you have beheld the Gods.”

“Easy for you to say,”

She chuckles
(endearingly)

“I think I’ll rest 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 sexy)

I smile
I say
(sincerely)

“I love your hair just the way it is”

then I say
(coyly)

“Although, I must say, blue would
really bring out your intense eyes
I wonder, will she be home later?
If so,
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
(cutely)

“Sure.  She probably thinks the
world is ending as we speak.
You know,
she’s good at catastrophizing
the shadows work best,
usually
she plays those same tapes,
over and over and over….
well, you get the idea
she can be engaged like that
so, I’m not sure if she is or isn’t.”

then she says
(rather adroitly)

“She’s hyper vigilant, that one
reminds me of me once I detach,
once I fixate on my salvation,
well…anyway…
you know I simply spend a
fuckload of time just trying to
get back to square one whatever
square one is is.”

I reply
(dramatically)

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

I lean in
(purposefully)

“I mean, all the squares have
transformed,
they are so different they’re hard
to recognize.
Are they not? There’s so
many of them that
even tunnel vision
even hyper vigilance
can’t always help you focus on
shapes that are always shifting though,
I must say you adapt quite well.”

She laughs
(contagiously)

“Shit, dude, I have to give you credit.
at least for your quirky imagination.
Christ is it time already?
I gotta get back to her
she could be in a state.
Hopefully not
in front of that fucking mirror
it’s not the best place on most days.
It clouds her judgment.
It needs replacing,
that, it’s cracked and warping.”

I rise
(instinctively)

“Thanks for stopping in.  I’ll
make sure
I have your brand next time you
come and go
I found a place that stocks it
regularly, the stuff of legends
will you do me a huge favor?”

I ask
(simply)

“Sure”
she says
rising
(grace imperceptible)

I put my hands on her small frame.
Looking at her intently,

I whisper
(tenderly)

“Just remember come and go
as you please she can too, especially
her
use my place whenever you need it
I know you’ll be sure to keep things
nice and tidy. You happen to be
quite masterful at that.  And
don’t worry,
I will continue to keep an eye out
you know, for both of you.”

She smiles wryly
(so lovely)

Glances a kiss
off my flushed cheek
turns and says
almost as an afterthought

“Aye, I know.  It makes all the
difference in the world
I know it does to me anyway.
I’m fairly sure for her as well.
She’s always taking stock, sorting
inventory, cleaning the messes up.
I’m pretty sure she knows though.
But you know how she is.”

As the door closes behind her

I think,
(happily)

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

OG is SHE.

I LOVE this Lady…she is brimming with painfully raw inspiration, every day of her Life.

Check her out if you don’t know her already. She is so beautifully written. Oh, and a hardcore Survivor, too.

 

https://meptsdandallthefuckedupshitinbetween.wordpress.com/2017/02/09/responding-5-o-g-r-we/

 

Grey Street.

“There’s a loneliness inside her,

and she’d do anything to fill it in…

And though it’s red blood bleeding from her now,

it feels like cold, blue ice in her heart…

when all the colors mix together to grey,

and it breaks her heart.”

 

The Way Words Move Me #100

The other day, Sam and I were talking shit about someone that we rejoice in the sprinkling over with well-deserved layers meanness whenever we get the chance; somehow we found ourselves doing the (all-too-familiar) giggling obnoxious descriptive of  horrific scenarios including this person. At one point, we were saying something along the lines of this person being stuffed with super shiny glitter and exploding in order to impress himself/herself, because this person is so vain and grandiose.

I was like, “You know, I’m sure there is a word in the old English language for that, the sick fucks…”; and then in response to the quizzical wtf? queue, I added, “I swear they had words for shit that they just had no business actually needing a word for…”

I applied the word “feague” to the conversation; (though at the time, I couldn’t recall the actual word but that didn’t matter because it was the definition along with the fact that there was even a word in existence for it, which mattered). “Feague” was a term from 17th century English used to describe the act of sticking a live eel up a horse’s ass before a showing or race. Like, to put some pep in his step…seriously.

 

http://blog.inkyfool.com/2012/12/feague.html

 

The fact that there was a word for such a horrendous thing means it must have been a pretty widely used thing, no? (Shiver)

I’m not sure if I want to continue on writing about words now – or if I want to call the fucking Humane Society of the 17th century and make a death threat to whoever picks up, damn.

Anyway, then I got to thinking how many things there aren’t words for, like, things that really need words but don’t have them. A good example is Sam’s shiny glitter stuffing/explosion concept; as the lack of a word for this specific depiction basically brought our disturbingly juvenile behavior to a close, lacking the perfect word or term needed to continue any further.

And, with all the words created and recorded in all of the languages in history, there should be no reason why the creation of new words for modern circumstances, such as the one in which you accidentally butt-dial your ex during a steamy make-out session in the bathroom of a club somewhere in the middle of the night. Like, there should totally be a word for when you slice two fingers nearly clean off of your own hand with the edge of the newly opened lid of your dog’s canned food, right?