I’ll drink through it
I think to myself
and when I’m drowning
in my pool of despair
and near death
I’ll beat on my chest
until I can start my heart again
until I can feel the pounding of it beneath my ribcage
and hear the whoosh of pumping blood in my ears
Cool rain drenching hot asphalt
created dancing ribbons of steam
accentuated by my headlights
and for some reason you were there
a thought in my head
and the songs on the radio
took on a whole new meaning
I dreamt of you last night
I knew it was you
even though you were thinner than you are now
You took me in your arms and held me tight
and the minute my head was upon your chest
I broke down sobbing
but you didn’t let go
you kept holding me
while the tears streamed down my face
and I gulped air to fuel the sobs that kept coming
I kept crying until I woke myself
wondering why you feel like my safe place
when you barely acknowledge my existence
The mind defies
and deceives
You come to me in my dreams
and you
you’re there too
and I don’t want to think about you
or you
I want to erase the memories
of all of you
the hurtful words
the fear
the black eye
But my mind won’t allow it
It pokes
it prods
it reminds
and recalls
I think of green pastures
with wildflowers dotting it
willing the beauty
to snuff out the pain you left
It doesn’t work
On Saturday my son flies back to Washington, where he has resided with his dad for the last 2 years, and I am already sad.
Even though it ripped my heart out to let him go live with his dad, it has turned out to be a very good thing. He is maturing, and growing into the amazing young man I always knew he had the potential to be. He just had to get past the anger.
Knowing he is where he needs to be doesn’t make it any easier to let him go, but letting our children go, is what we, as parents, all have to do at some point.
Years ago, before I had my son, I read Khalil Gabrin’s ‘The Prophet’ for the first time, and was impacted by the part ‘On Children’, and it continues to resonate with me. My son will always be my son, but he is his own person, with his own thoughts and feelings, and his own life to live, and I will continue to remind myself of this as he boards that plane on Saturday.
On Children
Kahlil Gibran
Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of Life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you,
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow,
which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them,
but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children
as living arrows are sent forth.
The archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite,
and He bends you with His might
that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies,
so He loves also the bow that is stable.
my words fall on deaf ears
and you turn a blind eye toward them too
and even though I stick out like a sore thumb
I seem to blend in with the crowd
and no one notices me
in a world obsessed with perfection
I am no one’s ideal
and I am ugly to myself
Why must I allow outside sources to define me?
I’m losing my job at the end of the year. I have known it was coming, just wasn’t sure when, and now I know.
I desperately need a change and I am being forced to make one.
For months I have envisioned myself selling my house, buying an RV, and moving away from Kansas to work elsewhere, and be able to explore another part of the country. However, I think that dream has had the brakes applied, as lot rent seems to be hella expensive, and I can’t afford an RV payment and over $1,000 a month in rent.
I have no idea where I’m going, or what I’m doing, and I’m stressed. My life feels so out of control right now, wanting change but scared to make the change.
He said, “Mom, I’m not sure I know what love is, but I think I might love her. Even though she and I might never be more than just friends, I want her to be happy.”
I said, “So you do know what love is then. You know exactly what it is.”
shove it all in
fries, cookies, noodles
open your gullet
pour it down
vodka, beer, whiskey
legs splayed
cocks, tongues, fingers
suck it up
drag on the cigarette
anything to fill the void
the bottomless pit
it’s neverending
scream into the crevasse
and screams echo back
and still
I persevere
I am the abyss
The words won’t come today, nor did they yesterday, or the day before that. So I reblog, because I’m always in fear of drowning.
I try to draw a breath
but my lungs won’t expand
to allow it
A wet veil has been
placed about my head
and it threatens to cut off
the life force of air
Swimming in your seas
has left me with a fear of drowning
“Test the waters you fool,” says my chastising voice. “Never dive in head first. When are you going to learn your lesson?”
But all is lost in the abyss
my ears are covered with water
and blackness begins to swirl around me
Fiction, and other made-up stories
Still histrionic, still a bookwhore; just faking competence because of my kid.
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