Dear Machine of Destruction and Pain:
I hope this finds you burned to the grass;
I hope your data has been wiped away,
and a ribbon’s been fixed to your ass;
I cursed the very ground you stand on:
that the foundation beneath you will give,
that the crumbled pile of beams and boards,
will become the home in which you live;
I have offered the Gods – my sacrifices:
I have sworn an oath, and signed in blood;
be there none who rise from the ashes,
let the drones suffer in death’s slow-flowing mud;
Dear Heinous Failure of my Forefathers’ Children:
You each should’ve taken heed to past demands;
you should’ve placed much more importance upon,
the job destined to be done by these very hands;
I lay down in the blood of your comical occupation,
I scream out in fear borne of systematic nightmares;
I’ve been forced to break the chain of my command,
and be part of this sickening puppet show for years;
but I spun around on my tiptoes and surprised you:
with a slash of my blade as I flashed by your face,
cut the wires that hook the machine to your pulse;
and every last puppet bled out right there – on stage.
But it’s no victory to celebrate, you see:
no deed can bring back:
what’s been taken from me;
no buildings burned down,
will give me the healing that I seek –
ten thousand bodies underground,
still leaves me hollow and empty;
Dear Machine of Systematic Failure and Human Misery:
I hope this lets you somehow glimpse –
the monster you have made of me;
I hope this emphasizes to you,
and your robots, concisely:
how the driving forces
stampede through me
like panicked horses –
and there’s nothing left to frighten me –
when it comes to the falling shrapnel,
from the burning shell of the machine.
The sun ceased to rise
on the morning that followed,
the curse of Her figure amidst the darkening skies;
hearts began to crumble
at first glance of the very same sight,
a darkening of any light against Her Banshee cries;
Her shape only grew and shifted
as She wound her impetuous impositions,
stitching threads through every pair of lips and eyes;
silencing the dumbstruck crowd
unwilling to do anything that is right,
cutting down anyone who counters Her Army of Lies.
The moon has never hung again
since Her forces invaded the heart of man,
in a final stand against what Shiva plans to realize;
the stars have faded notably
to see one twinkle has become rare to behold,
in a black sky where a constant shimmering once occupied;
and it is Her, who has done this
bled the red of my heart into a dry wasteland,
and left the most sacred of ancient divinities all but demystified.
The Destroyer arrived in 2007
to eat both of my arms as they cradled my Boo,
She never made me any indemnities, never tried to compromise;
a wake of hellish destruction follows
closely on the heels of Her stinky, filthy sandal-feet,
leaving the likes of me lucky to be hardly memorialized;
and so the show goes on today
Shiva the Destroyer still reigns highly,
I bow my head out of necessity as she passes by,
so I can keep it on a little longer and plot Shiva’s final demise.
I’ve been walking on wire
high above a horrific crime scene,
looking down at the sheer
size of such a bloody tragedy
the yellow tape is stretching
for miles across the trees
and the vultures circle
the tight rope
I’ve been walking.
I look down, muted sounds
while little dots of people
mull their ways around
most of them don’t care
that I’m watching
from the air,
but a few, I see
have taken notice of me
magnified by a cross-hair.
They will try to kill me,
they’ve tried so many times
to shoot me down
from the heights I’ve found,
but they can’t seem
to tap that bead.
And so on I look
bullets flying right at me
I do not falter,
just too desperate to see
the object of this circus show,
the victim of this scene…
Is it my baby that you
have down there
amongst such a
All I want answered
is this simple query
put down the rifles
and answer me.
They know what I’m after
and they know just as sure
that I won’t be going
a damned place without her.
But, I’ve got a shocker
Folded into my sleeve
and it’s something that
none of these cowards are
expecting from me.
This is what happens,
with all of this time
they’ve given to me,
my mind has mapped
its very own crime scene,
and mine’s filled with bodies
of them, not her and me.
from my high place
above the green trees,
and once it’s all done
I’ll climb down finally
for my only baby…
I know that she’s here
I can hear her calling to me.
But I never could find her
amongst so many
other dead bodies,
she screams to me
The haunt of my dreams.
“I am in that temper that if I were under water I would scarcely kick to come to the top.” – John Keats
I cannot blog about my current state of ‘scarcely kicking’ as of yet – because of legal constraints – but let’s just say that a trial is FINALLY underway now, and Boo is to be on a plane to fly home for six hours to testify on behalf of not only herself, but for the rest of his victims, also. This is because Boo is officially documented as “Janey Doe #1” – his first legally acknowledged victim in a long string of them who came after she tried to tell everyone about what he is. I am surprised as Hell that they haven’t found a way to disallow her testimony because of the horrid implications that her truth screams behind the broken ass child welfare system.
Boo didn’t ask to be sexually preyed upon by a man who was her “counselor” at the “treatment facility” to which she was court ordered to reside; she never asked to be steamrolled and labeled as a liar for telling on him – way back in 2009; Boo didn’t look to become the cynical, dissociated, unruly and self-loathing creature that she has been molded into because of these very things, either…so, Boo definitely struggles with the notion of her burden to testify now, after all this time and all the lies and bullshit that she has been force-fed in the time between then and now. Boo comes and goes as she pleases – physically and mentally. THAT is how she has evolved herself in order to SURVIVE.
Each time it comes up (which is often, and always has been), she shrugs it off and says stuff like, “I don’t even want to think about it after all this time, let them [by ‘them’, she means the subsequent line of girls younger than she, who fell victim to her abuser as well, after she tried to tell everyone what he’d done to her] deal with it.” We have gone round and round about this element of the bigger picture…a debate that I argue passionately from either side – depending on either one of our mind states at the time.
On the one hand, I feel it is intrinsically necessary that Boo testify in summation and on behalf of ALL of his victims; she is ferociously honest and raw when it comes to shock value, she enjoys triggering people – she feeds off of the collective stunned reactions, it’s the only form of reaffirmation that she’s ever been able to scrape up off the fucking floor from these despicable “professionals” charged with her “care”. I am of the opinion that with Boo on the stand, his justice will be served much more unanimously and without further delay (for lack of a better description, as there is no such thing as justice in this circumstance at all).
On the other hand, I agree with Boo when she says, (verbatim):
“Mom…it’s been like five years…I just want to forget about all that already, he’s not even my biggest problem anymore…”
And she means that – she has grown up quickly since she was preyed upon by the man on trial now…she has been involved in much more dangerous and lastingly traumatic situations since age thirteen, She is currently also a “star witness” in TWO additional court cases as well…one of which is EXTREMELY HIGH PROFILE and has caused me to start sleeping with a loaded pistol nearby because she witnessed a fucking murder/robbery and the men in question are out on bail with my contact information – thanks to the courts. Boo has bigger fish to fry…which is a sad thing in itself. Tick tick tick….next week shall be the climatic catch to the cliffhanger in regard to Boo’s decision to testify or not.
And, if she flies out here to testify, she will likely take off afterward and be missing again…thing is: as much as Boo hurts me and as much as I brood over her well-being and safety when she disappears, it’s not very different from the ways I worry when she is locked away to rot in a different state without her Mommy, she’s being fucked up either way…I keep hoping one of these days, instead of running away to the cesspools again to hide and feel safe, she’ll just come home and let me hide her instead. Yeah, I might end up in jail again, so what? I’d do it. I’d do it to send a message to Boo, that she’s safe with me despite her lack of ability to feel safe anywhere. Criminal charges added to my file for protecting my own kid…done it before, I’ll do it over and over again. That’s what a Mom is for.
It is December 5 today; 20 days away from the worst day of every year. In twenty days, I will spend another Christmas holiday alone, without anyone considered as family – without anyone who really cares one way or the other about the status of my presence – by 20 days from now, I will again be wishing for death, fast or slow.
All of the days leading up to that day will be filled with bad feelings and experiences, triggers and recollections that make me on edge and cranky as Hell; not a single day between then and today will leave me feeling even semi-complete, as I shop for gifts for the normal people in my life who celebrate the holidays like normal people – pretending.
All of the nights in between Christmas and last night will suck just as badly as the days, no rest for the wicked…or broken-hearted. I will dream of things that will never be and never could’ve been – wake up with that gut-empty feeling and feel afraid for three straight hours with each sunrise – never learning to put my finger on the source of these feelings to stop it, despite my frustrating efforts.
And Christmas Day, itself:
I will sleep as late as I can in an indentation at the edge of my cold bed – between it and the cold wall – I will force my tear-singed eyes to remain closed for as long as I possibly can because I won’t want to open them on that day, I promise. It feels as if the vicious cycle of my existence always gets close to erupting at this time of every year; everyone knows to leave me alone, everyone knows that there’s nothing they can do for me – there’s no solutions to offer or insight that’s worthy – everyone knows.
If I were stupid or lonely enough to expose myself to my extended family on that day, I’d regret it rather quickly; and eventually wind up saying something fucked up to a member of my own family in an over-anxious, depressed and defensive state, before storming out in tears. Been there, wrecked that. I call this entire song and dance “The Circle of Holiday Death” – it happens over and over and over and over. Each time that my heart, mind-state and blood pressure begin to “normalize” after the re-opened wounds, it’s Christmastime once again, and it all starts over.
People will ask me if I am okay until I will begin to respond with anger and irritability; they will not understand. Even my closest friends will avoid me because they simply CAN NOT offer me comfort in any way and they know this (the friends who have not already become totally overwhelmed by my reality and disappeared, altogether, that is).
I will seethe will anger at certain thoughts during this time of year: the people who have created this Living Hell for Boo being able to happily celebrate around a table with their own loved ones, their own precious children; my baby spending the day alone in a locked cage while being told that she’s unimportant and that everything that’s happened to her is her own fault.
IT HURTS ENOUGH TO MAKE ME DERANGED…
And through it all, I MUST keep my grip on composure; for I am NO good to the (Gods willing) older Boo if I end up in prison or dead before she turns 18. I do not plan on abandoning Boo ever again – – no matter how fucking bad it hurts me to follow through with. SHE NEEDS ME; even if she doesn’t know it yet. I have long been aware of the fact that I can’t undo whatever it was that did Boo; I can only build from where we stand, upwards. Our “relationship” is so far gone that I don’t feel as if it’s even possible for us to grow any further apart anymore.
So I guess there’s just one direction to go with it all, when it comes to Boo.