Barbarian.

I can’t wash the blood from my hands,

The basin is stained with red that expands,

The mirror reflects a perfect barbarian,

As I desperately scrub off layers of skin.

The stars in the sky oddly cease to shine,

I gather up all of the lies that are mine,

Sewn into my mouth one last time,

To be spewed at someone down the line.

My feet refuse to step anew,

And the streetlights cast a yellow hue,

My mind is burning a hole right through,

To ease the pressure I’ve turned into.

Notes To Self # 771

Upon being woken up in the early morning hours (5:30) because the old man can’t unscrew a pill bottle, try to remember yourself.

Feeling hatred and disgust towards a spoiled rotten, neurotic dog because, despite his almost 9 years of age, he still chooses to shit and piss inside the house while the door’s wide open probably takes years off your life.

Rear-ending a lifted truck with a trailer hitch, even a low speed, WILL total your Jeep.

People do not give two shits about other people.

Knowing your personal limitations doesn’t always mean you must heed this knowledge; sometimes it’s simply best to go against the grain and try anyway.

When you feel the effects of tiresome company, disappearing into your bedroom and refusing to answer the door isn’t always an option.

Dogs don’t comprehend egotism; stop getting mad when your dog knocks you over and drags you down the sidewalk to sniff a new tree.

If, after ripping you off for over a year by charging you for your dead mother’s line, your cell phone carrier is taking more of your money than the IRS, time to look into leaving Sprint for good. (FUCK YOU SPRINT!!!)

Flounder.

I’ve been circling the moldy, plankton encrusted bottom layers of life; feeding off of the slowly sinking debris that once littered the surface layers: the leftovers of a long-ago feast that I attended up there.

My vision has adapted to the murk; my breathing has adjusted to the oxygen depletion of dangerous depths and harrowing heights; my skin has settled into the wrinkled prune-esqueness of an over-long bubble bath; my hair now growing shafts of seaweed and tangly kelp in place of it’s natural fibers.

I’m a flounder, living with a great white shark who is lazy with a eating disorder; I am stuck in the suction of his hefty submerged wake; I am seemingly happy to gobble up the chunks of shit that fall from the sides of his razor sharp bite as he chews incessantly; I am his shadow down here.

Vacuum.

All at once,

Like a sucker punch,

Surprise, it’s like,

It says so in my eyes,

“Please tell me lies”,

All the same,

Never owning the blame,

It’s true, it’s like,

I saw it way before you,

Subtract one from two,

All in time,

On a clock that’s behind,

And now, it’s like,

Father Time won’t allow,

Still stuck on stupid somehow.

Daily Disillusions. One.

Some of my longtime readers may recall how, throughout the lifetime of my blog, I’ve described the very deep-seated issues surrounding my long tattered relationship with my mama; things that stemmed from early childhood and only snowballed throughout my life until I was an adult and became estranged from her on my own terms for a time. Some might recall the ways in which I was openly struggling with the actual severing of ties between her and me due to her direct and quite unhealthy ties to my own daughter in the months prior to her diagnosis. The cruelly finite death sentence of late stage lung cancer that was handed down to her early last December quickly changed my life’s direction, and before I knew it, I became her main (if not her only) confidant, caretaker, nurse and administrative assistant/scheduler.

I can’t believe she has survived so long…at least not when compared to the very short time that was originally laid out in her prognosis, not to mention the very close brush with sudden death she initially undertook on the trail of her first chemo via febrile pneumonia and neutropenia that landed her in the ICU for several weeks. At that point, she was recovering from the dip in her white blood cells that had left her open like a sitting duck for the infections that literally almost killed her in the beginning of her “treatment”, and wanted to spend Christmas at my Aunt and Uncle’s house with our family. Given the circumstances, I was certain that last year would be her final holiday season alive, so I killed myself emotionally and financially to make her holiday as close to perfect as possible.

It was also during that period of time that her husband of 40 years, my long-time father figure, abandoned my mama completely in the face of her illness and impending death. She never went back home again, as her husband repeatedly failed to clear out the presence of my daughter and her disgusting friends from the house.

Some of my readers might recall how I had been struggling for several years with my parents over their unwavering loyalty (to the point of sheer stupidity) to my absolutely sociopathic and parasitic offspring – and the undeniable affect that such loyalties would inevitably leave in their proverbial laps. It only got worse as time went by; and as soon as my mom was out of the house, it went to Hell in a hand-basket. They began getting notices from the landlord within weeks, my daughter having gotten a puppy that destroyed the carpets and some of the walls and woodwork. In the passage of time between then and now, my former step father also managed to lose his car, his savings, his healthcare coverage and anything else worth anything at all that he might have owned.

Two days ago, a 3 day notice to quit the premises was posted on the front door of the house that was once my mama’s home. For some reason, my former step father was surprised enough by this that he called my mom and told her, obviously upsetting her on many levels. She now also has been burdened.by the anxiety, disappointment, worry, and heartbreak attached to learning (being reminded of) of the reality that her entire estate of 50 years’ worth of the obsessively collected, pack-rat-esque, silverfish friendly belongings that she has bent over backward to hang onto throughout handfuls of relocations, burglarized storage units, rats and various destructive insect infestations, and 2 fires: is gone with a 3 day notice to quit the premises.  I know this breaks her heart because I know how she is and I have come to accept and endear the wacky things that she holds closest to her heart, as indecipherable as most may be.

That house is full of my own history also, mine and my daughter’s…and any of the things that I would’ve wanted to have from my mama will be gone as well. I have not been surprised by this unfolding of the Living Hell that has come to define every direction of what I would’ve once called “my family”; I was writing letters on my mom’s behalf to her landlord almost a year ago, so it’s not like my former step father and daughter (who will soon be homeless and without much but the things each can carry somehow) can say they didn’t see this coming.

The entire situation, which has gotten so far out of control that it’s beyond repair or interference from any outside party, is beyond my ability to intellectually grasp on any level. I am ashamed of my former step father for his absolute lack of action in even keeping himself afloat in the face of my daughter’s shenanigans. He has not only allowed and enabled this nightmare to play out like it is – but he also dares to call my dying mother (who is separated from him for the very same lack of action) and heap the load onto her already broken back. I am so sad and miserable over all of it, as I am in no position to offer anything in terms of any kind of aid or guidance to such an obviously lost cause as the situation at my mom’s old house, I want no part of that noise at all.

I also feel very bitter toward my mama again for the shit she painted herself into this corner with; a notion not so foreign to my heart and mind…I just wish she would’ve listened to me in the first place about letting my daughter move into her home when she left the hospital with her tracheotomy a few years ago. Thinking back to that now in this very moment, my eyes are swollen with tears because I remember my mom’s staunch position on “seeing Boo through the removal of the trach and subsequent recovery”, no matter what I said about it. I was dumb-founded by her blind loyalty to someone who had burglarized her home and stolen her car. I have come to feel so embittered by and ashamed of Boo these days, I have no words for that element of things…besides bad ones.

In short, everything is as bad as ever…waiting for that other shoe to drop hard on my head and heart…working with an asshole who fucked with my emotions and made me hate him as a result – having to look at his weasel face every day, has been wearing on me…too distracted to touch myself, too disgusted to touch anyone else…working hard and earning shit…more disillusioned every day beginning with my commute to work at 7am.

Identify.

I told you
didn’t I?
you know
I had to try…
to hold onto
my own
hell-bent
detriment…
so indeed
and, earnestly
I let the
arrows fly…
loosed carelessly
to describe
my over-tired
and broken mind
there it was…
no doubt
all laid out
to scale
and personalized
to the very
best ability
of me –
personified…
yet, it’s trifling,
a novel compound
like your loyalty
unwieldy…
weighing down
wrought-iron-bound
an anchor  
drowning me…
I tried
early on,
to say why
spelled out
in bold lettering…
to emphasize
with clarity
such shortcomings
like to mine…

 

River.

I’ve got this thing,
attached to the feathers
of my tattered, right wing;
it’s tickling and itching…
causing me to careen;
through the air,
in disrepair;
everyone down there
watching me.
I’ve got this weight,
that drags my feet
in reverse, towards my fate;
it’s beckoning and ordering…
that I bow down, and subjugate;
kiss the toes,
belonging to those;
who refuse to let me go
and be free.
I’ve got these eyes,
tuned to a frequency
that perfectly filter the lies;
barreling and swooping…
along, at their’ sides;
so invisibly,
no one else can recognize
but I see.
I’ve got this shrapnel splinter,
burrowed deeply into my skin
through summer, spring, fall and winter;
humbling, digging deep,
all it takes to make a slice, is a sliver;
moon hanging,
above the raging river
bleeding all over me.