I signed up for more but it seems they lost the paperwork.
I can reason it away.
What’s life but missed words?
I’d cancel early but the fee is too high.
Sorry for my lack of anything lately. I’ve been busy, stressed … insanely tired, etc.
Tag: free flow
Space For Rent
I am a study in the degradation of the human soul. Precisely measured and trapped by each small piece of past gathering dust on my clutter laden shelves.
Spaces of consequence are eternally lumbered from deceit to deceit as I pretend in a mirror and proclaim myself a minimalist.
Ounces of effort leak from joints and jowls too slow to understand and too burdened to disagree.
I struggle to settle, fight against the outlines of a person bearing my name. I grasp for dreams while never believing they belong to me.
This canvas, blank and forever in states of disaster, is a space defiled until I learn.
These walls are mine, mine alone, and there is no blaring sign declaring “space for rent” across my skin.
If Then
I’m stuck in gray matter
Mud weighing on my boots
If memories can be trusted
Then I can believe in you
iPhone Prefers Ducks
I don’t mean to say it so much
But sometimes this world *d*ucking sucks.
And when I’m frustrated
I don’t really want my phone to trade my violent words
For small feathery creatures,
Perhaps in hopes it will quell raging digits.
Somehow it works and I laugh at the absurdity
Of our materialism
And our in love yet in loathe relationships
With AI and short fuses.
Then I think of you
And my words come to a jumbling, clotting stop
Because I’ve long preferred making myself small
In hopes that avoidance of everything big
Will render me no more than the innocent bystander to a life
I’ve never felt in control of.
Maybe I’ve always believed I didn’t deserve the beauty you gave me.
It doesn’t erase the emptiness,
Or the memories of the last time I truly felt home etched in my soul.
But I can’t type “fuck” because iPhone prefers ducks.
Broken Bottle of Whine (Repost)
By some twist in irony this is exactly a year old and somehow it’s relevant again. Cycles, full circle, something. Thanks for partaking in my whine.
Sometimes I wish I could be the mom
That my father claims I am.
Shitty and repulsive
With no other care.
I couldn’t be the person
In the narrative he keeps,
The story he likes to tell about me.
The daughter that left her child.
The daughter that only comes around for money.
The daughter that only cares about the next party.
Tonight I’ll try to convince myself
All these things I do aren’t just for show.
I’ll wish I were beautiful.
I’ll wish I were smart.
I’ll wish I hadn’t broken your heart.
I’ll tell myself everyone’s proud of me.
Tonight I’ll sit on my bathroom floor
With my broken bottle of whine
And cry myself to sleep.
So when I wake tomorrow
It will all just be a bad dream
And my bottle of my whine
Will be poised on the counter neatly,
Waiting to be filled with
Broken expectations and unfulfilled dreams,
Bad words and ugly names,
Until it overflows and needs to be broken again.
Then I’ll sit on my bathroom floor
With the weight of this world,
Frothing and rushing,
Threatening to drown me
But never winning out.
Where Have You Gone
I comb my drafts for moments when I was real.
A crumb trail back to seconds I couldn’t feel.
I throwback sour liquors and sweet wines, one small glass at a time.
I tell myself the rest can flood the drain if these will just numb the brain.
I wish my life away, churning day dreams.
I wait for the moment when my soul detangles from yours
When I can no longer feel your heart ache in my bones.
I’m afraid
If I can’t feel, you’ll cease to be real.
Seed
I swallowed a seed
Completely on accident you see
It nestled to the folds of my being
Grew within me
Ivy limbs sprinted for the Sun
I wanted to tell you not to be afraid
But my tongue is replaced
And bark hardens my veins.
Photo: Cal Redback – to see more of his work click here
