Something More…

There is a voice in my head that screams in a whisper, “HOLD BACK!”
A piece of me wants nothing more than to listen to this dialect
The rest of me is belligerently vibrant with coy flagrancy
I am a woman birthed from an era between generations
disobeying symmetry
I am an anomaly, singularity, within a paradox of eternities
I am a cell multiplying
Born from the separation of others who held tight
I am not alone
Black hole, ocean tide, daily life
I am whole
Holy
Guided by stars, earth, water, fire, universally
Winded by humanity
Clouds comforting my soul
Welcoming the beginning and end
Forever?
Eternity!

 

Hurt worse than withdrawal!

 

I have loved Phil Collins since before I can remember. My mother told me stories of when I was a child standing up wildly in her car (praying I would sit since there were no car seats then) telling anyone daring to sing along to his music to “keep mum!” That is the polite British way that American brats of two or three years old spout off as, “SHUT UP!” or if an adult today: “Fuck You! This is my Jam!”
No matter my age or origin I still feel ownership over the love I felt and still feel for my idols. I listened to this song mourning David Bowie, and it brought me back to mourning my mother all over again.
I hate my mother for so many reasons and still wish she were here.
I wonder if when she passed on to wherever there might be that she looked back in remorse or if “care” exists in afterlife? It seldom seems to here.

I wonder if she feels guilt on the other side for sticking needles in her arms and all of her children’s hearts? I bet not since there is nothing left here! I am proof of that empty space.

SHE WAS THE ONLY ONE WHO REALLY KNEW ME AT ALL! Still, she left me all alone…

You left US! We begged you so many times while you were alive. Fuck! You left us with addiction and scars that are so deep they are invisible and evade us ever finding a cure for the damage that was done!!!

I fucking hate that I love you so much!

Take a good look at me now- I am left standing here, and you are GONE to let me suffer this world you brought me into alone! It’s what I’ve got to face…

Against all odds, I swear I will make a life for myself with the dust you left my hands grasping after.

I have been trying my best…

LOOK MOM! “NO NEEDLES!” I never once trudged the road you created in your wake.

I love and miss you so fucking much it hurts worse than withdrawals! ❤

Can you see me now? Are you out there?

 

FAST CAR

I asked my friend tonight to tell me what song she loved the best.
She replied- “Tracy Chapman- Fast Car!”
One of my all time favorites. The song I listened to every day when I was young. I always listened to it imagining a way out. I innocently thought- I can escape!
This friend told me she picked this song because I told her about it. If it weren’t for me, she would have never heard of it. I am so grateful to know this beautiful soul. I feel so honored to show her the same way out. Maybe we can listen to it together someday?
Imagining a life different than what we were born into?
Sitting together- we could hold headphones- one ear to the other. We could listen close while knowing we didn’t hear everything. We would trust that the whole song was heard- because we know we would never lie to the other.
We will always be the girls trying to find that getaway car since…
There is no car fast enough to turn back time or speed past the future we are doomed to suffer.
I have been through it already. As much as I wish she could be free of this. I know too well she will soon endure.

Maybe???- You have already escaped. You are the one who got away!?!

I know for sure-YOU BELONG!!!  YOU ARE SOMEONE!!!

I love you so much- No ticket can buy a friendship like we have. ❤

The Thing About Writing

The thing about writing is that there isn’t just one thing. There are plurals abundant in my reclusive masochistic tendencies. I can write in ways that elude being construed. I can write while being blatantly flagrant. I can write of being perversely submissive, conjuring up pornographic eccentrics while me myself and I remain quite innocent. I am a God over these vowels and consonants. I make them fornicate with one another in a single file line. Noun, adjective, verb- I decree your order, and the meaning of your life! I am a socially acceptable schizophrenic. The “friend’s” and “world’s” I have created, have become my conscience, government, and worst critics. Superfluous though I may be, I’ve found a paradox within my fingertips upon these keys. I realize now there is no truth, where as a reader I find meaning. Humans created words, every one of them, and the defining. Have you ever been taken out of context? That anger within you bubbling! That deep dark vortex only word can create. Malevolence! Benevolence! Equally balanced within their purity. It’s not the words it’s how we use them. Stories created by letters combining. The human story has the most plot holes; leaving us questioning everything. As a writer, I get blocked, by having so much freedom. As a human, I get stuck, by having so many restrictions. To realize words mean everything and nothing made me wise and crazy with understanding-

The thing about writing is that there isn’t just one thing. I could write in circles making sense of it for days until they lock me in a padded room and throw the key away.