Maybe Later.

I barely shut the door behind me before I burst into tears again,
Thoughts racing round my head without a place to put them in;
Every “ignored” phone call turns out to be a chance I’d been given,
To swallow down my fears and be the person I should’ve been.

So many days have left me without a spark of hope within,
So many lies spat onto me to get me to fall back line with them;
So many pieces of so many puzzles scattered across a line, so thin,
So many surfaced memories that I can’t push back and drop on him.

I barely shut the lights off before the tears begin to come unpinned,
I’m here – without the parts of a heart not properly sewn in;
And you’re there – without a clue as to where you’ve even been,
I just want to hold you while the world around falls in.

I hardly fall into a fitful sleep before the lights blaze brightly in,
And the alarm clock sings of misery and a day that will never end;
Waking dreams and nightmares of how likened you’ve become to him,
I had to cut my losses – before Life cut my throat again.

Bubble Bath.

I thought you’d left while I was in the bubble bath;

So I paraded around sporting bitchy tits ‘n ass…

I wrapped myself up in your freshly washed towel;

telling myself I was glad that you were gone now…

Silly me; you actually never had gone anywhere at all;

I found you standing quietly with your mouth opened in awe …

Beads of sweat dot your head; a crown of liquefied guilt;

Swallowed whole – from all you know; desire you’ve never felt…

And when you see my red-ruby pouting start to pucker,

and sense how my insides tense;  you sexy mother-fucker…

Lick me clean of my tears – salted by such childish fears;

strike a match against the fuse between the filthy and the pure…

tonight I stroke your hidden side – that displaced face you always hide;

Allow me to perfect your view of how a good girl will abide…

you stood there, your hands wringing with intensity;

shirtless and hungry like a pre-meditative beast,

I was yours bendable expendable – that’s right,  wrapped up tight;

And you were yourself – an animal, ever-ready to bite…

the time became a sucking noise from the drain,

you manhandled my body and I hijacked your brain;

I’m glad you never left while I was in the bubble bath;

it’s sad to think about it now after so much time has passed.

.

 

Come.

Come see me –

this night;

in my dark cornered dreams

I beg of you to make me scream;

Come touch me –

Once more;

sweat your saliva from my pores

cut the wire and kick in the door;

Come stay with me –

come closer; revive;

wake me up until I come alive

let me feed the carnivorous side;

Come with me –

come in; confide;

touch every steaming hot place inside

never look into my crying eyes;

Come ruin me –

this night;

see my body writhe beneath

Come tonight and leave me empty.

Ancient Proverbs: 6 – The Danes.

“A man can never be caught in places that he does not visit.”
– Danish Proverb

My Papa was born and partially raised on the Danish Archipelago, fishing the coast of Bornholm in Denmark before his parents sent him to the united states due to the rising sense of general unrest that began with the occupation of Nazi Germany in the years leading up to WWII. After being emigrated here, my Papa became a military pilot and flew for the US during the war. I have written before about how wise and wonderful of a man and human being he was; and I have a feeling that might have had a lot to do with his early upbringing and environment.

For “Mr. Strange Triip”

For Someone Who Hurts.

For Someone Who Hurts.

Postcards From Freedom #3 – Finally, For Tee.

Bat Cave Notes From "Tee"

Bat Cave Notes From “Tee”

Ahhhh, this is monumental…a monumental day…this postcard from Freedom holds super extra special meaning…it’s one I’ve been waiting FOREVER to be able to “send out” into the Universe with a big, fat “FUCK YOU”.
Some of my readers might remember, and even themselves, follow “Tee” here on WP; she one of the founding members of the Cut Throat Clubhouse Blog here with me also; she is someone special to me and always was – since the very first contact we had through writing – when she shone her spirit at me like a cop shines his light in your eyes, catching me off guard, and making me feel like a chump for ever having allowed anyone to call me as a “battered wife” – she is kindred.
Tee is an awesome and inspiring writer (a fellow sailor mouth who doesn’t spit horse shit), she has dropped off of here completely over the past few months as a means of simple survival…but she did it, you guys.
Until VERY VERY recently, my dear friend and sister has been in the grips of her own domestic captor – – –
FOR NINETEEN YEARS. THREE CHILDREN. COUNTLESS BROKEN BONES.
A HEART AS PURE AS SOLID GOLD.
This postcard from Freedom is that one that I had in mind when I first began the series – the one that I have been dying to create under the inspired circumstances of Tee’s actual ongoing Freedom and Safety. And tonight, I got to do that. This has made my month. I want to share Tee’s note with any of her other friends who may read this post, because it’s so fucking….ahhhh….no words…
“I feel like a new woman now that I’m away from the ex…safe and secure…”
If anyone deserves to be safe and secure, it’s most certainly my sister in survival, Teela Hart – currently enjoying FREEDOM AT LAST.