No point in voicing my opinion
Everyone feels the need to weigh in
To attempt to make sense
of something that will never make sense
Everyone thinks
their way
is the right way
No matter what
it is done
and there is nothing you can do
Impotence
It’s just these sorts of things
Which make you realize how weak you are
The slippery slope that is this life
we try to live every day
Grasping
What is always just out of our reach
As an individual
As a nation
As a world
If I disappeared, how many people would notice?
Not many.
Maybe a handful.
Would you?
No, you wouldn’t either.
You don’t even notice me when I’m here.
My phone never rings.
You don’t write.
See? You’ve already forgotten about me.
Some days are better than others.
What is it that weighs on me?
What is it that pursues me and
won’t let me be satisfied,
or happy,
or content. . .
You fuck,
you have been knocking at my door the last three days.
I don’t ask you in.
I never actually open the door,
but you are able to get in anyway–
through the keyhole, through the crack at the bottom,
like a winter wind come to chill me to the bone
and turn me into a fucking Ice Queen
who has no patience for the simple people
and their drivel
and bullshit.
Be gone with you stupid peasants!!
Lest I turn you into ice statues!
So did you do it?
Did you do what you said you were going to?
What you promised you would do?
I didn’t think so.
You can’t be counted on.
You’re just like all the others.
Oh, you don’t want me to classify you?
To lump you in with all the rest of them?
What the hell is so different about you?
You say you’re different, but all you’ve given me so far is
the same old shit.
Lip Service.
All I’ve gotten is
fucking lip service.
Don’t you realize your actions say all I need to hear?
You’re worse than the cigarettes.
I gave them up 2 years ago,
But I still want one every day.
The thought crosses my mind for a fleeting second or two.
Not so much with you,
You’re more of a constant.
Like an addiction too,
But harder to get rid of.
Why you?
Why not someone who would be here?
Is my craving for you,
Or can I not deny the jones for unavailable men?
And if you were here?
Would you,
Could you,
Ever fulfill that deep-seated longing?
That bottomless pit
I always seem to be standing on the edge of.
There’s a convenience store down the block.
Maybe all I need is just one more,
Then I’ll be able to walk away.
Fiction, and other made-up stories
Still histrionic, still a bookwhore; just faking competence because of my kid.
One Therapist's Thoughts-Before and After
It's not the length of life, but the depth.
This is my mind, it’s not supposed to make sense.
Where Sarcasm Gets Drunk and Lets Its Hair Down
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You either get it... or you don't.
Inky blackness, a yawning void ~
A weekly series edited by Jena Schwartz
Read. Ingest the words. Like little blue pills, they will affect you.
the stories behind the pictures, and vice versa
Just my thoughts for all to behold
FOR DISCERNING READERS
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Spiced with stories, served from the heart
Writer, Tarot Reader, Designer
a little bit of this and a little bit of that
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The musings of a scorpion who would have been an eagle
I blog now. I know, I can't believe it either.
Fat Bottom Girl Said What 