Diabolique.

It’s come to my attention lately,
that the wonder of technology,
can be poisoned just as easily,
by a stranger’s instability;

We all make choices in life, don’t we?
that will be ours, alone, to carry,
I can’t relate or comprehend – I’m sorry,
to the mechanism of defensive psychiatry;

I’m sorry the road behind you has been so bumpy,
but, you’ve bumped that pin-head if you believe,
that I will lay down and let you trample me,
there is drake’s fire inside of this woman’s belly;

Please spare me the insidious and diabolique,
the lies used as fuel to heighten the heat,
games that you aren’t even actually playing with me,
I’ve left the table for more important things;

There is no kind of valor or respectability,
in re-weaving your own perceptions of reality,
and pawning such garbage off on others conveniently,
who are trying to function more normally;

I’m sending a message to you now, publicly:
you know who you are, and, if you’re reading,
either stand the fuck up and come talk to me,
or shut the fuck up and check your psychopathy.

Vomiting Warmth.

I don’t know,
but every time
that I think
things are fine,
a tiny fracture
a hair-line
in the aftermath
left behind…

I don’t speak,
much anymore
because it hurts
same as before,
hammering home
chiseled score
through the bone
tap into the core…

I don’t see,
so well these days
with the sunshine
burning my face,
sizzling holes,
saving grace
vomiting warmth
all over the place…

I don’t care if the world,
burns down out there
travel be the flames
easily on the air,
burning, abroad
licking everywhere…

Shivers and splinters
cross-hairs and blood,
iron and cobblestone
nails, screws and wood,
I fill up my bag just like
you taught me I should
then I wait like a statue
in the place you once stood…

tears mixed with raindrops
taste an awful lot like blood.

Troll.

enraged_by_cheeseboy18193

I don’t care
to see you waste
another moment
in this place
as anybody
like in kind
of that twisted
hateful mind
glued into
its own confines
tries in vain
to usurp again
won’t you learn
You’ll never win?
Carry on then
along with all
of your own
drone brethren
dust trail
straight to Hell
in a pre-defined
dramatic beeline
to the next
corner of
the box
you call a mind.

Shame on Me and the Cursed Empathy.

I guess at this stage of the situation in which I blindly bound myself about a year and a half ago now, the question that burns the biggest hole in my soul would be this:

Why in the Hell would anyone INTENTIONALLY remain to annoy and disrespect; in a living situation that has become obviously regrettable and problematic with the very same person who originally allowed that person in to a home to begin with?

I mean, for me in my own personal experiences with things like this, I tend to lean towards the old saying that goes,

“Nobody likes to be somewhere when they are not wanted.”

Apparently, not everyone is made uncomfortable by being an imposition and a nuisance to the life of someone who’s only mistake had been trying to help that person in the past; someone who has been more than patient during the long period of time that a former welcoming gesture has been overstayed and taken wildly advantage of; someone who just wants her own life and routine back, finally. Apparently, some people have no issue whatsoever with becoming a thoroughly hated and resented element from one day to the next, simply based on the fact that they are here – and unwanted. For a long while, I had certainty of this person’s oblivion, in regard to my displeasure with his continued residence, but after finally blowing up and releasing the seething wrath he has sown within my being over time, there is no longer any excuse for his refusal to just leave already. Since my overdue explosion, I know with certainty that he is aware of my readiness for him to move out and move on in his own life – anywhere besides my house. I know that he is aware of how I feel about and perceive him also – because I told him those things too during my blow-up. I have become paranoid of him because he is not trustworthy, and has proven such time and again – which makes me question everything about him and anything he says or does. That is no way to live in the same space with someone else; and I am getting to the point where I might have to talk to Dice (my other roommate and the homeowner where I live) about it, whether I like it or don’t. I have been avoiding involving him for obvious reasons; but he is the one who can make it happen without any drama…kinda paradoxal, isn’t it all? Fuck me and the cursed empathy…it gets me every fucking time in the end to be a “human being” to another carbon-based life form.

Mud.

You annoy me
beyond description;
your feigned oblivion,
to a situation…
I don’t buy it;
I don’t like it,
I can’t stand it.
The nerve –
you have postured,
the monster –
I’ve fostered…
The one I wish,
I’d never known…
the days pass by,
with your thorn,
stuck in my side;
you have come,
to epitomize…
all things patronized,
all things I don’t like,
by no means will I abide;
you’re a grown ass man,
not a fucking child,
pick your trash up,
and do not expect,
for someone else,
to do that shit;
it makes me sick,
the nonchalant…
the attitude of:
a fucking blue blood…
perhaps you should,
recognize…
what’s what –
and be on your way.
pull your stick,
and be quick
from my mud.

Hint, hint.

So tired have I grown…

my eyes finding your trash piles;

this ain’t a hotel…

Never have I known…

such a snake behind a smile;

you don’t fit here well.

Just a One-Page-Entry.

We…
you and me…
it turned out –
not quite so,
meant to be.

Feet…
carry me…
right on by –
the desire,
for familiarity.

Me…
I’m angry…
at the truth –
and the lies,
so eye-opening.

See…
the humanity…
finally drain –
of these veins,
I stand empty.

Be…
my history…
more vague –
with each day,
a memory.

Cautious.

True, I am bitter,
but, I’m far from a quitter,
you’d be smart to consider…

I’m a forgiver,
with a heart like a river,
I’ve been delivered…

No matter the weather,
never changed are my feathers,
free from the tether…

No matter the causes,
time to chalk up your losses,
you’ve left me cautious.

…THANK YOU FOR THAT…

Vividly Shone.

Practice what SHE preached,

you’ve got some nerve calling me…

lose my number, please.

The arrow has flown,

your colors vividly shone…

take your lies back home.

Truths smeared in cement,

hieroglyphic discontent…

broken testaments.

I’m busy burning,

piles of lies that I’m learning…

not table turning.

Butt-End.

I feel sick to my stomach since I woke up today,
drizzling outside despite triple digits on Monday;

a new thorn stuck into my freshly healed side,
a truth to replace the waste left behind the falsified;

indeed, that as ugly as it is, this new reality standing-off with me,
it is always worse to be on Bang End of the gun barrel, undoubtedly;

You know pretty well: that I’m “OK to Corral”,
I count to ten pretty Gods damned well;

I’ve got little to fear as the long moments linger,
Chambered a round and I’m dead-steady fingered;

I have been recently reminded again,
so let me clarify it for you, Little Man;

the “shooter” always gets the last laughed upper hand,
and here and now – that would be ME holding the butt-end.

Forget What I Said.

I take back anything and everything that I ever said about the Orphan; he is a user and a fake person just like the rest of you are. I wish I had never asked him in to my home and/or life. And since, I stupidly did – – – I wish that he would disappear now. He is cramping my life and annoying my lifestyle beyond belief, and needs to just get the fuck away from me. I am tired of pretend people, and even more tired of the bullshit small talk he uses to try and constantly sway the flow of any conversation. I hate his presence here – how he only pops up the instant the other roommate leaves, as if to defy my very privacy and alone time. I hate that I once cared enough about his stupid life that I actually worried myself into letting him live where I live…and now, he won’t stop snagging my sheets. I want him to go and be gone, for good.

Pond-scum.

I can’t –
I could never,
understand,
the clever and,
conniving hand,
whatever,
I refuse –
to lose,
my final stand,
not well-planned,
I suppose –
that I cut off,
your nose,
to spite your face,
again,
oh damn!
here I am,
you can’t out-pace,
my winged friends;
I emptied –
my lungs to you,
words only true,
but silly man,
you’ve gone and,
ran,
yourself through,
the dirty blood,
I bleed too –
I can show you,
but my blood,
thick as glue,
rubber cement,
bent true,
we’re good,
stay back,
and I won’t,
cut ribbons through,
the very likes of you,
the face I’d like to –
grind my crumbling,
jagged molars into,
until the image,
of its pond-scum,
contaminated brew,
burns it’s way,
right into something,
anything –
other than you.

Take the Hint or Take the Hit.

My tolerance for rude and annoying bitches is dwindling by the moment, I swear to the Gods…

Yes, I was once a grade school mini-van mom, too – however, I can safely say that I wasn’t the kind that stands outside the bedroom window of a perfect stranger’s home at 7:30am along with the mothers belonging to my child’s friends, bellowing cookie recipes or whatever at the top of my lungs.

THIS is a perfect example of the way human beings tend to give two shits outside of their own bullshit, individual existences…bitch, if you don’t find you and your coffee-cake click somewhere new to stand around and act like a bunch of field cows on the graze, I will find one for you.

The worst part about my struggles with my fellow species is the part that defines the oblivion and cluelessness attached to the ongoing behaviors of those who act like they live on Earth alone; it is enraging at times for someone like me: a remeberer, an empath, a red-blood.

It’s been a long, long stream of consecutive sunrises, that I have been awakened by the lack of consideration put forth by this particular group of rude women outside my window; I have swallowed down my own issues over the fact that I suffer from somewhat debilitating night terrors and CPTSD that typically cause me to struggle with the aspect of waking up each day, as it is. Mornings are unfailingly ugly for me anyway; 9 times out of 10 I wake up in a panic – cold sweat jello covering my body – afraid beyond words or reason – confused – angry and irritable…so, when I am awakened by a gaggle of Chicken Ladies and the associated noise, it’s fucking ugly. Fucking ugly.

Last Friday, I threw a little fit upon being woken again by the auditory pollution – and rolled over, still half asleep, to slam my window closed as hard and loud as possible…to make a point that the average brain damaged crackhead would be able to accurately read. Today, they were out there again – cackling and hollering and speaking in Elementary School Tongues, once again right outside my window. I am not a very patient person; okay, okay – fine – I harbor ZERO patience in my genetic makeup…

And so, as you might imagine…this morning turned out to be quite the action-packed content for the next Home-Maker Mommy Huddle – which I assure will be anywhere other than within the vicinity of my bedroom window, or my home for that matter, ever again.