Discovery swears I’m weary Now And Then as well a Home to house Feelings scream: Intensity! Beg You to Reach Out for Me, Drown Me in Dark Memory Back when You returned My Love. Now dicarded, Lonesome Dove.
You think your secrets Terrify Though I have not a clue to Why; You think I can’t exist without It Tears me up then brings me Home. Home to find You in my bed, Dreaming of a Love so dead To You, it has been quenched of Fire. Once convinced to burst in Flame, Now Inspiring Cold-to-touch Weaponry to thwart Desire And Broken, grasp at Any Crutch.
Mother’s Day is always hard for me, as are most holidays. Especially since the Joy of these occasions is multiplied by Loved Ones, and I have so Few left to Love.
Mother’s Day is a Double-Whammy because, even though we’ve all HAD Mothers, we’ve not all BEEN Mothers. And folks tend to forget that on Mother’s Day. Or at least they did when I went to church every Sunday. All those red roses handed out to Mothers? After YET another failed IVF or miscarriage? I recall Sundays as a Funhouse Mirror, distorting and exaggerating all I didn’t have.
Even Fathers Day is Still Bad, what with the ABUNDANCE of Horizontal and Vertical departures – at least on THIS runway. Yet somehow I’m always Left holding the bags.
I’m not saying “Bah Humbug” to Mother’s Day and ALL Holidays FOREVER. I suppose. What I am saying is that Holidays are just Regular Days now, remarkable only by the EXTRA Heaping of Grief they serve up.
Too frequently, I feel like I’m stuck on an underwater tree limb, the Rest of Humanity and Vitality having swum past Me DECADES ago. And taking no discernible note of my Dilemma.
Yet I persist in floundering my way into circles around that damned tree branch, idiotically thinking I can catch up.
I wonder why you ask as if You already know the answer? I wonder why you pull me close If mounting mental distance? I wonder why you slow down Love When passion now increases? And why must you Intoxicate To soberly consume Me? I wonder why you tease and promise with A mind bent on Betrayal? And why cloak words in Mystery If clouded questions clear the sky So you can then forsake me?
I’ve just lived a Month of Hell I don’t understand and for the first time recently, haven’t had the words to describe. But I want to try.
The last 3-6 weeks (I can’t remember) have been a Giant, Extended, Protracted Clusterfuck of Epic Proportions. On a Daily Basic. Comprised of the following Ingredients:
1. The Daily Trifecta of Physical Mental, and Emotional Anguish. 2. That Damn Oral Surgery: the additional pain, the inconvenience, the EXPENSE, CVS and other Mosquitoes, the recovery period, the healing period, the waiting for the next phase, the fact there IS a Next Phase, 3. Going from February to July, at least where I live, brought my favorite Wardrobe Season, Mild Winter, to a screeching halt with As-Yet-Unworn-But-Recently-Purchased clothing Making Eyes from my closet; who knows if they’ll Wink at me next year? Also, the abrupt and drastic change in temperature has been hell on ONE of my pains: an exceptionally rare and therefore un-researched disorder, Erythromelalgia, or “Man-on-Fire Disease.” Let’s leave it that for now; I don’t want to burn you. 4. THE COMPANY: Profound Loneliness, Static Aloneness, A Despairing Sense of Pointlessness, Pissed-Off Self Loathing, Absence of Invitations, Unwillingness to Extend Invitations, Inability to Accept or Extend Invitations, Unfounded but CONVINCED Ugliness, Too Much Time But Nothing To Do, Wouldn’t Do It Anyway, Profound Sorrow, Regret!, Ghosts from the Past, Abject Misery, Fear of My Future, Inability to Cope with the Present, Paralysis,, Growing Emptiness, Social Anxiety, Agoraphobia (home both caste and prison of my own making), and therefore:
ZERO KARAOKE.
I NEED a weekly fix of Karaoke to handle the Slings and Arrows of my Outraged Fortune.
The good news is I FINALLY sought self-care by Undergoing Transformation of both Upper AND Lower Nails on Wednesday. All 20 are now Bulleted and Shellacked in Deluxe, Upgraded Red Glitter and Reflecting in Top Coat. How’s THAT for “Spring Color?“
I’m still not feeling great. But at least the Racing Thoughts in My Head are Lovingly Whispering:
Karaoke Tonight?
(Gracias for the photo, @thenixcreative)
♨️ Is My New Disclaimer for Very Foul Language and/or Sexually Explicit Talk
Life has surely broken me. I’ve flunked out at Everything. Why consider equally When Options just desert Me? Forgive not pointed sharp for me; Still grimed up, I cannot see A single reason surfacing, Hiding Places changing Constantly And arbitrarily Disappoint inevitably: Never, Ever, Frequently Only end up baffle-ing That the Ones who stuck by Me Were No One and Nobody. The Needed ones Abandoned me, Never even wanted me. Been let down by Everything And 100% of Practically All and Every One and Single Thing, Left for dead and wasting To a husk of Me.
So What’s the point, Sharpened pointedly, When you will only Start new things? Old ones failing, Interest lost and dropping, Forcing hands repeatedly. Home to pack a bag and leave, All doors slammed resoundingly, Locks all changed and shut to me. Happy Endings Abruptly.
Don’t care what you do to me. Lost my sensitivity, Burning hurts so painfully, Once Angry scars Protect My Heart From the Hope, Now lost to me; It doesn’t hurt, just disappoints. I have no mass, I’ve been disjoined, Won’t shatter when you drop me.
All do eventually; A mere eventuality, Forgone Conclusively.
Death claims all the Victory In this life given to me. It owns the very parts of Me Which mingled with One’s chemistry To build a brand new entity, Just to have him ripped from me.
Who was the enemy? My own womb, specifically Betrayed us all, ejecting This tiny piece of Humanity. Scrap to you? Not to me.
I still ache longingly To nurse and cradle this piece to me. Twenty years and constant suffering, More Death than Life if you ask me Since his and fellow siblings’ lives Were deemed by Someone “Not to Be.” And Mother never made of me.
What rules for such a Tragedy? No One knew, apparently. All Baby Bumps avoided me, As if my full-term “inability To carry” An unspeakable disease Which could be passed contagiously.
Alone, I bear their Memories; Always My Responsibility. Now I’ve become too fatigued To honor them effectively; They only Live in Memory.
I’m not too proud to beg your sympathy. I’ll even make this plea upon my knees: Would you be willing, Momentarily, To hold my children in YOUR hearts So I can breathe?
As the World tuned in to watch clips of the Johnny Depp/Amber Heard Mutual Defamation trial (Team Johnny here), I’ve noticed some fascinating Courtroom Theatrics in play.
And it’s not just the regular Costume Changes, non-movie Acting, and Oddly-Painted-On Hairstyles.
However, the televising of so much Personal Pain and airing of Dirty Laundry seems like a Giant Spectacle of Uncomfortable Absurdity to me.
“A tale told by Idiots, Full of Sound and Fury…
[Pomp, Circumstance, Legal Jargon, and Court of Public Opinion]…
Discovery swears I’m weary Now And Then as well a Home to house Feelings scream: Intensity! Beg You to Reach Out for Me, Drown Me in Dark Memory Back when You returned My Love, Now discarded, Lonesome Dove.
I Failed to waste the needed time To fully search; Identify, Reflect Upon and then To Mine [Not to mention Sit and Scribe] Hidden Thoughts crouched in My Mind.
Next, I failed to clear the View, By Cleaning Dirt I wrote for You [All tied-up and gift-wrapped, too]. Sparkling not, my words stayed cruel:
“The One You Thought You Knew so well Regrets Time Served with You in Hell!”
Trussed Up, Carved, and Butter-Basted, Time – burnt, molding, dead and wasted, Unfulfills Now Freedom’s Tasted.
You plead with Me to Trust You won’t Crush and Leave Me Yesterday, a Heap of Dust Swirls and Heaves Me Back when You Gave up on Us. Please forgive if Pleas Fall upon my so deaf ears, It seems my Ears No Longer hear The Lies that Ooze so unctuously With facile, fancy Ease From Mouths which I still Fear.
John’s high GPA Proves he got good grades And apparently abstained From drink and darker play, Which leads me to proclaim: Those undergrads at Duke Must not drink until they puke. For if an Extrovert like John From a party school was spawned, Yet walked across that stage On Graduation Day Claiming honors all the way, Surely he refrained?
Come [Word] Play With Me! 