Bled.

I will kneel at the feet of the man or the beast,
depending on which one has his teeth sunk into me…
and when the lips peel back upwards,
to bear the double edged,
dripping red, set of razor teeth…
only then, can be determined,
which one I’m currently worshiping.
I can blend myself in with the white or red skin,
belonging to either clan through a split blood relation…
and when the day has ended,
to become the grey-scaled,
chain-mailed, cell of my own prison…
the only way that I’m able to stay,
shine light on what’s mine once again.
I can keep up still, alongside the fin or the gill,
towing my heaviest anchor and its affected blood-trail…
and when the buoy’s been rounded,
to become blinded once again,
the line of vision, breaths get exhaled…
the single-handed curse:
my belovedly bled best friend.

Broken Be Our Bread.

I’m standing in,
the fading rays,
of your shine,
and, as it fades,
away from me,
into a shade,
of washed out gray,
muted memories,
of brighter days,
a better time,
I can’t rewind,
stuck on auto-play,
the things we said,
promises made,
yours and mine,
fear and dread,

push back instead,
relations forbade,
teardrops cried,
both misty-eyed,
fast-forward to today,
it’s enough, instead,
buck the brick blockade,
as hard as I can bang
with my own head,
cracked opening,
brightest of red,
the blood we bled,
so many times,
yours and mine,
broken be our bread.

Broken Be Our Bread.

I’m standing in,
the fading rays,
of your shine,
and, as it fades,
away from me,
into a shade,
dulled out gray,
muted memories,
of brighter days,
a better time,
I can’t rewind,
stuck on auto-play,
the things we said,
promises made,
yours and mine,
fear and dread,

push back instead,
relations forbade,
teardrops cried,
both misty-eyed,
fast-forward to today,
it’s enough, instead,
buck the brick blockade,
as hard as I can bang
with my own head,
cracked opening,
brightest of red,
the blood we bled,
so many times,
yours and mine,
broken be our bread.

Damn Us.

damn us

Thank You and Goodbye

 

 

ImageToday I lost a best friend; a longtime companion and side kick; an irreplaceable piece of my history and past: My eldest dog, Ozzy died this morning during surgery for a tumor removal. Thirteen and one half years old…my “other” shadow…is gone now…needless to say, this weighs heavily on my heart now.

https://americanainjustica.wordpress.com/2014/03/01/things-ive-learned-from-my-dog-ozzy/

https://americanainjustica.wordpress.com/2014/02/26/my-other-kids/

https://americanainjustica.wordpress.com/2014/01/15/my-boo-and-my-roo/

If there is a Dog Valhalla, may the Gods show Oz this place – he has earned it most certainly, I’ll miss him always.

The Monster Has Passed

Image

Um……er, wow….

I found out around 1pm today that my ex-husband/ Boo’s father/my attempted murderer/long-time terrorist of my existence died yesterday in prison.

What does this information bring to my life?

Boo‘s life?

How am I feeling about this new development in the story of my near-death at this very man’s hand?

The very first thought to pop into my head (and I’m gonna be very honest here when I shouldn’t necessarily be):

He didn’t die, somebody killed him.

The guy was in his mid-forties and built like a tank made of solid steel; granted, he kept a quite unhealthy lifestyle and a notoriously lethal illicit-drug habit last I knew him, so who knows? I don’t feel happy about his death, nor was I overcome by any profound sensation of safety or revenge. My long-time employer Mr. Karma didn’t even poke his irony-stricken face out to say “hello”, oddly enough, when I heard the jolting news of the death of one of my life’s Demons; I never flit the thoughts I’d expected to think when or if this day landed in my lap.

I feel like if it’s  true that his heart did, indeed give out and he died of “natural causes”, that any of my readers who knows a hint about his and my own history together – might also then, share in my sense of weight and mass on this matter. It’s a simple scientific observation that under enough weight or pressure – any amount of mass can give way to crumbling.

I feel sad for his girls, mine included…but on the other hand I see this as a possible release for each of them from a subliminal grip he has managed to maintain through glorified memories and pathetic, rambling pleas to them from his cell. I feel relieved, I will admit. I don’t have to worry about some legislative dick-sucker letting one particular and very personal monster out early on good behavior ever again.

I think I need more time on this all some more…poor Boo…