that one kid over there

the scars on forearms

shimmering under the fluorescent lights

shining bright scarlet

illuminating white

with each gasp for air

eyes rolled back

tormented ecstasy

insanity is the only safe place

for tongues twisted and forked

lies on lies on lies on lies on lies

legos and lincoln logs

playing jenga through the window

the aftermath of the afternoon

when the monsters come out to dance

to the wailing and screaming

your voice is their heartbeat

whispers to gods

foreign and unknown

they don’t dwell with you

in the hovel of inhumanity

hold the gospels in your thoughts

pray for a salvation

the cynical ghosts your only tie to laughter

where you are, dear child, is nowhere

in the quiet the demons cackle

in the tranquil the liars prowl

in the zen reliving rape and pillage

in the calm the evil crawls

sweet dreams

sleep tight

hope to never see daylight

 

daddy’s eyes

it’s shocking

the places i find you

a wraith

in the windows to the soul

in reflections

in photographs

in the hallways of memories

times and places you never existed in

but you’re there

somehow

always

there

in the dead quiet of night

in the whispering yawns of dawn

an apparition

smelling of cheap cigerettes and old spice

a haunting

in the crisp appalachian air

in the deep forest of new england

the echo of your voice

knocks hard

like the atlantic tides against a beach of stones

i am blind to what you saw

when you looked at me

with the eyes identical to those set in my face

blue tinted muscles

pulsing against the black and white

it would be a luxury

to understand

fully, completely, without hesitation

what it means to

have your daddy’s eyes

taking turns

twist and sparkle on the ground

sweet dancing in the rain

when the softness can be found

in the patience and the pain

forgotten witnesses are learned

and they saw it once again

in the fire long was burned

treaties forged in blood for gain

shadows of humanity are bound

where the innocence of cain

the sins of abel swims around

sweet dancing in the rain

ferris wheel & pink cotton candy

it’s a tumultuous feeling

calm

it seems like a lie

a temptation for tornadoes

to rip everything apart

leaving the soul barefoot

to navigate across shattered glass

quiet

a perfect indicator of emotional doom

the sniper in place

waiting for the order to fire

the ravens gather for the onslaught

serenity

leaving time for promises to die

giving way to mental destruction

defenseless, naked, unmasked, unaware

blind in a boxing match

peace

time to prepare myself

for the barbed wire dress

for the parade of the despised

amity

pacts and trusts in boxes

that i am unable to open

i don’t have the fucking key

i don’t have the fucking tools

harmony

what a bullshit mirage

put in place to make the thinking

go to doctors and hospitals

thorazine and depakote

frontal lobotomy life therapy

there is no comfort in joy

there is no contentment in tranquility

happiness is rotting flesh disguised with aromatherapy

 

hey, mom, i made it

sometimes words aren’t strong enough

there isn’t enough emphasis to describe

the whole of you

i have scoured dictionaries

i have devoured sacred texts

but no word can sum it up

bigot

zealot

fanatic

lout

emotional brute

none tell the story of who you decided to be

the hatred that consumes all you think

the curses you place

on the heads

of those you love

the evil inactions

you take toward those you don’t

sacrificing your own children

for your comfort & greed

you have no right to the names

of your mother, your grandmother

you do not have the honor

of being a mother, a grandmother

your acrimony has placed you outside

maybe everything now is just

disGrace

house calls

synchronicity and serendipity

conjuring up mutual need for kindredness

magical sound of a knock on the door

a blast from the past

i had no idea the sight of you would

make my heart skip in my chest

like a three year old

memories of long ago

playing cards

roaming mountains

exploring haunted houses

jaw bones of unknown animals

a rose and a poem

i saw you

the ache of missing you

boiled up then floated away

to see your face

to hear your laughter

to listen to stories

of loss

of neglect

of children

of new love

of unrighteous intruders

of adventures

of a life that molded

the girl i knew

the girl i love

into a woman

i have known my whole life

you are no longer the maiden

you are the mother

how beautiful it is

the flower you have bloomed into

 

-for aubrey

too much!!!!

it all seems to just pile up until everything topples over.

i have been pretty active, keeping my mind off of all the chaos and overwhelming uncertainty of my illness.  that is kinda how i have to operate in order to just process information.  it’s always been that way…i get bad news and i have to throw myself into some project or work in order to take it in.  then, maybe, after some time i can sort it out.  when my middle son was diagnosed with autism, i went to work and worked open to close for almost a year.  when my dad died, i threw myself into planning his memorial then started a band project then let a crazy junkie hang out.  now i am steps closer to finding out what this illness is and i can’t stop writing or reading or working on the zine, shit i am even trying to start a project to help kids….

then when i least expect it, it dawns on me-“i am really fucking sick!!!!  i am really fucking sick and it is never going to be over….”  i have to fight everyday.  fight to stay at this level of sick, i have to let go of that one day dream.  this level of sick sucks!  medication boxes other people have to fill up because i can’t be trusted to take my meds the right way because my neurons are at war.  walkers, canes, wheelchairs, grab bars, handicap stalls…that is the good part.  at least those things help me do basic things without too much embarrassment.  being in public and having a total meltdown because there are too many lights and smells and noises and temperature changes, and the worst part is i know i am doing it.  i know i am reacting, but i can’t not do it no matter what.  i have to cover my ears and run…well, not run, shuffle as quickly as possible.  getting a coffee is a gamble-is there going to be too many people  who wear too much cologne, is someone’s cell phone with a horrible ringtone going to go off while the lady next to me is gabbing loudly, is someone going to cough on me…

but the worst is the holes…the holes the people around me leave.  it is unintentional.  they don’t mean it.  they just don’t care enough to learn how to not have the holes.  they don’t read to find out what this is.  they see the physical outward manifestations and they want that to not be there, but they don’t see the inside, the swollen organs, the lymph nodes, the nerve swelling, the fear because i forget how to walk or how to urinate.  it’s a non-issue the internal.  as long as they don’t see it, it doesn’t exist.  the holes.  i get so angry.  i get so hurt.  i need the support, but it is minimal.  when i try to talk about it, everyone just shuts down.  i just need some help.  i don’t know how to do this alone.  i don’t know how to see the holes.

it all seems to just pile up until everything topples over.