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.

Set On Fire.

I found out about it this morning upon waking up to look at my phone (set on silent overnight, as per my usual routine); and I will say that my heart dropped down into my belly somewhere and hasn’t yet returned to its proper place.
I groggily read just a few snippets of the slew of text messages sent throughout the night by my Mom; catching things like:

“Your father (by this, she means my step-father) went to get Boo downtown and hasn’t come back…”,
Or:

“He’s STILL not home, I’m worried…”,
Or:

“It’s been THREE HOURS NOW! I have no car, and I’m going crazy…”
Or finally:

“His phone just goes straight to voicemail…”

It was just the day before yesterday that I sat out on the front porch with him to escape my mother’s  hollering into her Bluetooth inside (she still doesn’t grasp the notion of the other person being able to hear her fine if she just speaks in a normal tone); that I verbalized some very haunting visions to him in a foretelling plea for his logical side to come out and hear me…in total vain, it turns out.

Boo has been consistently dishonest and destructive to my parents ever since that dreaded moment in which my mother was struck by some gods-awful notion that she had to see Boo through the next few surgeries until the tracheotomy is removed and she can speak naturally again; she has brought with her presence in their home nothing but grief and disarray – dope fiend maneuvers, and all things associated with a fucking street hooker’s lifestyle, in essence. My parents are so naive…sickeningly naive…naive from age, apparently. Because, the clueless and vulnerable old folks that each has evolved to represent these days were NOT the two people who I had around during my teen-aged years, by a long shot.

  • Boo’s despicable thievery has, thus far, totaled up to at least: $3,500.00 (yes, you read that correctly) stolen out of my sleeping father’s wallet in the wee morning hours while she was awake and whacked out on drugs; but, there have been other instances as well of stolen cash in much smaller amounts, too.
  • She has stolen family heirloom jewelry (oddly enough, her father literally stole pieces of the exact same set almost 20 years ago) from my mother’s room while being left alone at their house during the workday.
  • She stole ALL of my mother’s medicines (a very notably sized plethora of pills including but not limited to Oxycontin, various tranquilizers, psyche meds, and the handful of different medicines that my mom NEEDS for rheumatoid arthritis and lupus.
  • She stole my father’s entire wallet; as well as a stun gun that was deep inside of one of her bureau drawers.

In a nutshell, she has been horribly ungrateful and disrespectful, she has remained in constant violation of the home that they have, once again, opened up to her in her time of need. Last night should have undoubtedly been “the straw” for both of them…

My father drove downtown last night to pick Boo up at the drop of a dime when she called, claiming she had been punched in the face and her phone had been stolen (I live in the silicon valley, a live and wide awake place where downtown isn’t welcoming at nighttime to the average person); 

when he arrived to the place she had directed to meet her at, he was beaten nearly to death by five grown men who appeared from nowhere – only seconds before Boo suddenly appeared, as well. One of the cowards even went into his car and found his ginormous Maglite flashlight, then proceeded to beat him in his face with it until my dad went unconscious in the street. I was not there…I do not know for myself any of the minor details surrounding this heinousness; but I do know that it changes everything – forever…for ME at least.

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.

Diabolique.

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

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

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

Please spare me the insidious and diabolique,
the lies used as embers to raise the level of heat,
the games that you aren’t even actually playing with me,
I’ve left the table – now it’s just two – not three;

There is no kind of valor or respectability,
in re-weaving your own perceptions of reality,
and pawning such garbage off on those that you see,
those who are able to function much more normally;

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

Death Song.

How will the final tune play itself through –
as it haunts the halls with melodious cacophony;
as it swirls like smoke from a smoldering flame;
as it tells the truths you’ve hidden from yourself;
it’s no wonder: when I look at the whole of it –
nothing profound or groundbreaking or bold;
nothing novel in the face of my weary stride;
nothing that offers any true shock or surprise
just more of the same of a really long line –
those two steps ahead of your own falter;
those who singed my flesh prior to your stab at it;
those who have been dismissed from view;
erased away from concern and thought of mine –
life is too short and there is no time;
shuffled card-decks and matching footsteps;
another falls neatly and indiscreetly into line;
What does your Death Song sound like –
full of many meaningless fabrications and layers;
reverberations, skipped beats and scratched vinyl;
all the dramatics without the shine of the stage lights.

Judgment Day

He LIED to me, blatantly and cruelly, despite my genuine support of HIS BULLSHIT for so long – day in and day out –

HE HAD BEEN LYING TO ME SINCE I TRIED TO “DO THE RIGHT THING” AND KNOCK THE WHOLE THING OFF, MONTHS BEFORE HE MOVED OUT!!!

And while that type of thing is obviously okay with you and your people, it IS NOT OKAY with me. I didn’t deserve it; I didn’t ask for it (literally, the opposite); and I will damned if I am going to be further insulted about the fucked up bullshit that I just endured at the hands of your “friend” by you – when you truly have no clue what you’re even talking about. It sucks that you had to go there and say the absolute worst thing you could possibly say to me in regard to that pondscum “friend” of yours – and my so-called “unnecessary drama”. Where the hell do you get off?

Image

For the record (and so that next time you go talking about it, you KNOW what the fuck REALLY went on):

I tried (beginning several months ago) to break it off. This was due to the fact that I DID, INDEED, SEE THIS BULLSHIT COMING. I tried telling him so many times that I didn’t want shit to end up this way, and all he ever said back to me was stuff like, “Don’t worry…”, or “It’s fine…”, or my personal favorite, “I still want to continue this when I move out…” I tried to tell him that I had no interest in becoming his “booty call”, he swore that wasn’t the case…

Next, when I tried to explain that I had feelings involved for him, and was feeling very used and discarded (based solely on his actions and lack, thereof), in hope that he would understand that this wasn’t stupid game to me – it’s my life – what little there is left of one anyway…he only became more unwilling to behave like a human being. He continued to lie to me throughout his actual move – to appease me in order to continue having his God damned cake and eating it, too. The last batch he dropped off to me prior to the last one, I stood my ground solidly and flat out told him I was losing interest in him and his head games, that I didn’t feel like he was worthy of my attention or affection, that I didn’t want to see him anymore outside of his visits to see you or whatever. He seemed to take in stride, which pissed me off but I let it go.

The very next day, I sent him a text asking to see him before the weekend to swap out batches, as I had finished what he left with me, and he showed up here an hour later – all sweet and sugar-coated, all full of his bullshit lies and head games, and I caved. The next day, I was so angry at myself, and at him, for being such a sucker. I told him so. He proceeded to dog me out once more (the time he flaked me off all day and then showed up shitfaced drunk on a Sunday night), and when he got here, I again, tried to send him packing.

I said: “I don’t want you here if you don’t want to be here.”

He said: “I do, I do want to be here, and you are the only one…I swear.”

And then I let him in my bed again, because I wanted to believe the leis he was telling me, that he’s always been telling me ALL ALONG.

Image

Please understand that this entire thing has been a head game on my end; and it’s been quite an unjust head game, to boot. I will never understand how certain people are able to sleep at night, but it’s not my place to understand sociopathy, I guess.

All that I know is:

When you or anyone else in your highly misinformed group of “friends” feel obliged to judge me (as I KNOW you ALL do, without doubt), especially in the context of either of the maggot “friends” of yours that I have stupidly tangled with – it would always be more respectable and much less cruel, to actually have the facts and information before doing so. Otherwise, you chalk yourself up with the rest of your “friends” by behaving like a judgmental and pompous jackass.

Image

I get it, that you and the rest of your “friends” are okay with treating people badly, as long as it doesn’t affect you directly; even if it’s someone you’ve known pretty well and who’s been a staunch ally to you, I get that by now trust me. What I don’t get, and likely never will, is how it is that some people are so capable of smashing what’s REAL and TRUE with the faulty and fabricated bullshit that fits more comfortably for them, for their own life – no regard for what’s right versus what’s wrong, no loyalties (at least, not to the deserving). It’s lost on me.

Image