.

he liked to scare me he liked to scar me I loved him for it mingled with anger and fruitless wishes that it did not come with the cost this golden twisted boy who would leave me soon enough to those who wouldn't bother to give me the attention of torment

did i have depression
or did it have me?

did it have me in its grasp
all tied up
kept down

born into misfortune
borne into depression
battered by the flailing of lost and cruel people
who never once saw me

Untitled 2

All that I've suffered
let me rest let me have unlikely patches of peace I grab the sun when I find it I run I dance I smile I bask I forget the gloom which ever creeps in which I was lost for many years nightmare creatures live there with all the ghosts that ever were and nightmares past nightmare creatures walk amongst you cloaked in human skin

Amnesia

where is everyone?

their noise sounds desperate and oblivious

or was that me?

maybe, yet

the motor revs

my caterwaul tears

taxing engines

exacting change

how we danced

before i swallowed my tongue

the twisting

there were games as well
but in between hopscotch and mother-may-i
the twisting
it started so young
they looked at me so strange

this girl

all tied up in knots

they kept their distance
and wondered what was wrong with me

rather than wonder what was wrong with the one who put them there

riding down the old street
too fast 
behind him on a mini-bike
he liked to scare me
he liked to scar me

head shots act at a distance
can't you see?


DAEMON

I was a hell spawn. I was a child of god. I could have been anything.


Late one night, I’ll start whispering the culling song in his ear. He’ll swallow his tongue.


He looks so small now.
Bony and frail, in his sick bed, in his sick house,

The delusions of grandeur have festered.

Remembering things that never happened.

The guns are still in the basement, like they always were.

It is where you belong.

Go on, into the void, end it all, do this one thing for me, this one thing ever.

still

was i a loser

or just lost

my head pushed down
so i went right through

grabbing scraps isn't enough

let them scrabble

i'll bide my time

it's coming

they all tell me patience

maybe, maybe

but maybe i'll explode

maybe i'll break out

maybe i'll run

maybe i'll run

maybe i'll steal

maybe i'll lie

if you say "it's all good" one more time...

my brother was an asshole

My brother was the only one who ever showed me kindness in my family, so I clung to that and ignored everything else. He pulled the wings off of flies for fun. I rescued them and fed them when I found them. I had no love for flies in particular, but the horror of it made me want to help them. He gave me vivid and terrifying nightmares by telling me that there were monsters in the basement. Not to mention not going to the basement, which was fixed up as a rec room, and where all the toys were. He gave me a ride on his mini bike and went way too fast until I was terrified. That in itself is not deplorable, but I believe he enjoyed my distress, and being the cause of it. Perhaps it gave him a sense of power, as powerless as we all were against our father's madness. He did something to my cat, the only other thing that gave me any affection. I don't remember what it was, but it upset me so much I chased him out of the house and around it with a steak knife. I fully meant to hurt him, and he saw that, and though I could not catch him, I would not have stopped. He had to get our mother. Now we come to the molestation. He was old enough to know better. Not perhaps when he was 14 and I was 9, and he wanted to play doctor and was fully erect, but certainly when he was 17 and I was 12, and he touched me a few times. I could have stopped it and wanted to, only there was an intense fear that if I rejected him, I would lose the only person I had in the world. I loved him dearly. I ignored everything bad. When everyone else is cruel and uncaring, you don't have to do much to win a child's loyalty and undying love. And this is why his suicide devastated me when I was 14. I was left all alone, in a harsh, cruel, uncaring world, and I had no clue how I could survive it. My differences always set me apart and I never learned how to make friends, so I had none. When he died, not one person, not one of the many relatives, not one teacher, ever even asked if I was alright. Not even that insincere question, I didn't even get that much.

axioms

I used to hear them. I used to listen a lot. Unfortunately, most people I listened to were ill or broken or obtuse. I might have heard a thing or two when I was young, but by the time I was old enough to chose who I had contact with, I might not have heard a single thing worthwhile. Well, now that I think of it, a couple of teachers, but by high school I was so far gone there would have needed to be extraordinary measures. I was set in my thinking that the world was stupid and cruel, and I was alone in it, with nothing to do but try to survive while taking the least amount of damage I could. And there were plenty to strengthen my view. All but three, and I think only one caught a glimpse and gave me Siddhartha to read, but neither of us tried to reach out more than that. I trusted no one by that time.

I was very smart, I think. But they damaged me so much, I could barely survive, and it was in incredible pain. So here I am, trying to work around the brain damage. The pain has subsided, and I must learn to access other parts of my brain, or if possible retrain the damaged parts.  

13

Her name was Sue. Like my sister. She was there the summer I was 13. And October too, the 31st. I must have been 14 by then. I hadn't gone trick-or-treating for a few years, and when she suggested it, I was excited to go. But she showed up with the boy who lived at the end of the tiny street, and I think one other one. I think of him as Albert, but I believe that was his last name. He was sniffing around her, and she seemed to like the attention. I couldn't stand him. So I made an excuse, said I didn't feel like going. I didn't want to admit the truth. I don't think I ever told her. I didn't want to make her choose. I didn't want to feel like that. She was gone by the time March came around. We didn't keep touch.

She told me what to do, but I didn't listen. She was street smart, and knew how these things worked. I did not. And I was afraid. I should have listened. I just didn't understand why her social worker wouldn't help me. If my situation didn't warrant help, they why would I lie and say I was her? I was afraid of what would happen when the woman came to get me. I was supposed to say I was Sue and that I had run away again. So I did nothing.

Daemon

I was a hell spawn. I was a child of god. I could have been anything.

“I mentioned your name to Tony Blair”.

Jesus Fucking Christ.

Why did I make this call? Is this what desperation has brought me to? I’ve been brought to many things. Many things. But not this. And for nothing.

“But I am helping you. That’s what I’m doing right now.”

So he’s not going to help. He could, but he won’t.

Late one night, I’ll start whispering the culling song in his ear. He’ll swallow his tongue.



76 years. Enough already. You’re weak now, aren’t you? Frail? I had hoped. I had feared. Perhaps I’ll come out to see you. To stand over your bed, your sick bed, in your sick house, the one I grew up in. You still have it, I see.

Are you not dead yet? How long do you mean to take? Do you remember when you threatened to kill yourself? Even when I was 13, I wished for you to do it. When I was 9, I used to plot your murder. Poison in the food was my best idea. But I thought I had to get rid of the body or I’d go to jail. I could not come up with a way to transport you.


You know you killed your son, right? And ruined every life you touched. But I will see you dead, and I will be happy. You still have guns, don’t you? Bullets? Go get a shotgun, that should do nicely. Go on, I’ll wait. Don’t forget the shells.

You know, oddly enough, Bill Clinton was talking to ME, and he told me that when he talked to you he thought you were a psycho and a moron who imagined he was a genius. Tony Blair said something similar, but was a tad more polite. They both agreed that you killed John, when I told them that story. They agreed that the world would be a better place without you in it. My life would certainly be better without you in the world. You are loathed by everyone in the world. Every person who hears the story of who you are agrees with me when I tell them I want you dead. Everyone thinks you should be dead. Why do you think my friend is making this call right now?

I tried to have you killed when I was 17. I met someone who said they knew people and offered to have it taken care of for me. I believed him. I seriously considered for a while, very seriously. And I said “yes, do it”, very seriously. It’s too bad he was full of shit and didn’t come through.

You’re not that bright, for all your delusions of grandeur. And they are delusions, you must see that. You must have those nagging little doubts. Maybe it’s not that no one is bright enough to recognize your genius, maybe it really is that you are a delusional idiot. You know it happens, right? Delusions of grandeur. Well, you’re the guy. You are really very stupid. Stupid, coarse, selfish, brutal, egotistical, and a huge boor. You remember all those people who you used to rope into conversations? The random strangers you had to hijack into conversations because no one you knew was willing to tolerate you. They wanted nothing more than to get away from you; they were only being polite. They laughed about you afterward, laughed at you and if I was there pitied me for being stuck with you. Grandmom told me once that you wanted to be a good father. You failed miserably at that like you have failed at everything. The only thing left that you could be any good at and successful at is killing yourself. Take some time, think about it. I would prefer you to die slowly and painfully, but choose your own way, just leave. Everyone sees how ridiculous and stupid you are, and they all laugh at you behind your back. You should be filled with shame for who you are, I can’t imagine living with such shame, I can’t imagine how you would want to. Go on, into the void, end it all, do this one thing for me, this one thing ever.

love, i screamed

it is crazy, isn't it, to sit and gush over a cart full of garbage?
is it crazy
to think that a house loves you, because it protects you like no one ever has?
is it mad to try to leave?
or is it the desperation of clarity?
i know we are all mad
but the levels
some seem higher
but look who's advising me
i know those neurons have been misfiring
since that first shot nicked me
and i fell
with a horrified look on my face
but while falling in slow motion
a small smile
because the ground was coming up to meet me

slag

everything is harder than

everyone says

this

and

what they mean

is
that

so

let me run
through this
meadow
one time
chasing rabbits

i need
this

and that
doesn't matter

to

my mother
died
before i was born
which is sad
but still
i don't forgive her

yes, rebeca

how i wish

so many things, if i make a list it becomes flat, if i put it in words it becomes flat, so let's leave it open, let it take flight

but do you know what it feels like when i listen to tori?

no, of course, you couldn't, the way i like to imagine i know how she feels when she sings them when she couldn't possibly (or was it me)

if only i could roll you up with doug and tara and sprinkle on a bit of jared and what i once could have been and then distill out all of the dross, then you would blind me, but for a second all would be illuminated

red is my favorite color

i picture the most beautiful and last thing i would see
and dream of sleep

maybe

if

but he says
it's me


i still find small comfort in sleep

but i keep waking up

i only want to dream

reality keeps breaking

condensation

i don't know how much i can

there are echos of me there and there

in tori

in kate bush

in the furs

tears for fears

we know some of each other, somehow

and so i didn't have to be completely alone

i crawled up inside and brought them along

there are many others, sometimes only a song, only a line, there are films as well, and i am there, dear claudia

it has been too long now, i am a wild child, semi-acclimated, but never comfortable.

i will hope for the best, but you know, it may all come to nothing. i am glad you are here now, but it is not enough, and i am afraid it will all fall through, and then what, what should i leave in my wake? they know they can't fix it for me, and i really may not make it. i will try, i will, but you would be frightened to know how close i've come, twice now, since i've known you, my promise notwithstanding, when it all comes down, i know there is nothing you can do, you can't save me, however intensely you might wish to.

i'm listening to tori tonight, it's been a long time, she's an odd one, not like me, not my oddness, but not like them either, like most people i feel so alien to. under the pink, i listened to it often, years ago. a line came up, what she meant by it in particular i don't know, but i know the meaning, and i couldn't say for sure, but i don't think it's a good thing in her case either. "you're already in there, i'll be wearing your tattoo". only in my case there was no "the way i was before", he started in on me too young, i never had a chance. i wish i could have known me, but this is all i've ever known, this twisted and perverted distortion of who i could have been.

IF

i daydream sometimes, i take myself out of the picture. i am glad of some things. that is, i have had some experiences i am happy i have not missed. there are things so intricate, it would take pages to convey the smallest part, so i opt for concise generally, not to pander to the twitter length attention span, but in hope that someone, somewhere, may be able to extrapolate something of what it really is.

there's sometimes a buggy.

to explain would also cause it to lose something, some poetry, some weight. i have considered on lightness, and it has its attractions, and i suppose i could fly were i light enough, but it is not me, no matter how much i would wish it.

i take myself out. i make it a scene, and i zap myself out, and watch it continue without me. but i know it would not be clean, i know it would only be for me. i am trying to talk myself into detaching enough to do it lately.

there was an incident. it was ugly. i don't feel like telling it now, not in detail, but there were children in the park bullying a child. i flew into a rage and yelled and cursed at them. i was triggered. i am horrified at how little people seem to understand what such experiences can do to a person, they seem surprised to hear of the suicides resulting from such abuses, but they still don't seem to really understand. i was so angry and intent primarily on getting them away from the boy i didn't do anything for him, and someone had come and was taking care of him while i was still yelling at the other children. it doesn't make the lambs stop screaming. they scream constantly now.

i have dreams. but you cannot live on them. so what do you live on in the meantime?

A BIG FUCK YOU

this one goes out to my family. if you can call it that. the one i originally fell into, with all the capricious grace of an indifferent universe. not my husband and son, who try their best and suffer me but it may not be enough. i hope it is, and i hope i make it.

my parents crushed me, and what i suffered outside of them, rather than help me, they only added to the difficulty i've had in negotiating this life. added to hardly encompasses the torments they compounded and turned blind eyes to. but i am tired of going through it in excruciating detail. i just happened to notice that my aunt does check this blog every now and then, so this is to you, auntie, and don't be shy about spreading the love, because it is to every last one of you, even art, though it is possible he missed the message i sent him, i'll leave that possibility open, but i am hardly inclined toward magnanimity as far as any of you are concerned. as far as grandma, i feel pity for her, knowing her story, but i feel toward her as i do toward my own mother, they should not have had children, they had no business being mothers to anyone; they were incapable due to the damage they sustained. and each created more cripples to carry on this tradition. i give you credit that you had the sense not to continue that cycle, but you cannot fall back on the excuse that you felt parents were responsible for their own children. that idiocy would mean there should be no child services, and children should be left to suffer with whatever abuse they are unlucky enough to be subjected to. i hold all of my cousins in contempt as well, except the ones i never knew. i only knew jessica as a baby. when grandma took care of her once while i was there, she was crying upstairs. i was 15. i tried to go up to her, though i knew nothing of babies, i knew of distress and need, and i tried to go and see what i could do. grandma stopped me, would not let me go, insisting that jessica needed to learn - i don't know what, maybe that she'd better get used to it now, the reality that you couldn't count on anyone to help you no matter how badly you needed something and how helpless you were to take care of yourself. i listened to her cry and knew it was wrong, and i was in my own distress over it. i had learned this long ago, but it pained me that anyone else would have to learn it. i don't know why i didn't disobey her and sneak up anyway, perhaps she was watching me, but for whatever reason i felt i couldn't go up. i hope linda did not buy into this notion of child-rearing.

The Insane Spark of High Heeled Girls

It flips a switch for me. Have they gone completely mad? Clicking across the tile, it is not new, only sad. Women have been damaging themselves for centuries to gain love and attention. This particular trend is new, I think. I don't believe the shoes have ever been so high, certainly not for day-to-day casual and business wear.

I even saw two of them walking through Houston International with them on, traveling for god's sake! And that is a huge fucking airport! These are 6 inch spike heels with narrow toes. I could go on to describe what this does to the feet and legs and spine, but suffice it to say if you do it long enough you will wind up seriously crippled, if not right away, as you get older, the degeneration creeping silently along, even if the behavior stops.

I want to scream at them every time I see them. I want to tell them exactly how stupid it is, and that it is completely made-up, a mass delusion, a conspiracy, the notion that these things are even attractive. Two types especially irritate me. The ones in pants, since the argument goes that they make the legs look sexier, a moot point with pants. I have even seen them wear them with pants that come to the floor, covering the shoe completely. "Why?" I want to scream, "Why, I beg of you, explain your thinking in this, what possible reason do you have for doing this to yourself in this case?" Those, and the ones who cannot walk in them, they awkwardly lurch about, looking as graceful as the crippled member of the herd, the one the lions would take out first.

And now a new contender wanders my way at this very moment. The beast. The behemoth. Why? Are you like the delusional Jerry Springer guest, thinking you are sexy, while 50 lbs. of gut spills out of your lacy midriff tank top? Do you think it has an ameliorating effect, counter-balancing your heft and utter lack of any type of grace or beauty? Lank hair, likely dyed blond in a similar ham-handed attempt. As you sit next to me, and I glance over for these additional details, having politely asked me if the seat was free, I do feel a queasy sort of discomfort in the things I'm saying about you now, feeling fairly awful for it, but you shouldn't have worn those shoes and set me off, now should you?

low spark of high heeled boys

lost...

we are all lost; it only differs in degrees. i have seen our differences poignantly; shall i now see our similarities? how bittersweet it will be, how it will always be. are we in this together? can we now be? we weren't once, you know, you turned away, all of you did, and i was alone. but i am determined to forgive your ignorance, and to try to understand it as that, rather than evil, which it has felt like. i will do what i can for you. i will love. the pain and hatred shall fade.

roger waters understands. can you hear? i'm asking you that.

goodbye blue sky