Sweet one with your love so pure, child stumbling in shadowed fear, never knowing the right words to speak, grasping for someone to assure.
You’re seen there in the dark, space where monsters thrive and hunt. Nightmares become reality, you sketch dreams of life with chalk.
No one knows until they know, though it seems so clear after the fact. Hard to swallow when nature calls on you to trust, those larger ones that act yet reap nothing that they sow.
Those distant memories are not such dust, history and answers with eyes turned in, never thought I’d see you again, it was time for the work and at last it was a must.
Let me hold you under glowing stars, as we watch them dance to the music of infinity, let me hold you in their friendly glow, we will sing songs and clean the pain that mars.
You’ve been lost to the ocean of time between, found at last with a message of hope. Forgiveness for something you never intended, it wasn’t your fault, the directors flawed the scene.
Welcome home sweet one with your love so pure, I’ll wipe your tears and shed my own, its been forever since you knew where to find a home. We have a family, and ourselves, this is no lure.
Thank you for keeping alive a spark, you have it now, a life to live, and a truth to build. Thank you for finding your way back to me, lets attach to ourselves, get ready to do this right and begin from where we start.
Interpersonal dynamics with a radon bomb baby. Burning it straight down to the ground, scream at me like this whole one sided diatribe has become nothing but a song. I hate that our hands touched with venom grasped tight in fists. Cruelty measured in blood ,bruises and spit. Sex without the pleasure and no one ever comes. Where are the guidelines for this shit? I’m no masterpiece and my words sometimes seek wound instead of ears. Verbal lacerations that excite the darkness in both of us until the monster’s out and there’s no going back. Channel that stunner of a mother fucker, find ourselves in prisons far more concrete than the inside of our skulls and with far less forgiving guards. Wasting away, lost to hope and life forever…why? What was gained? I don’t ever dare to ask the other question…what was lost?
Hallowed evening moonlit sky lost direction asking why mindless choices numbing thoughts careless actions hurtful shots taking aim bitter words lifeless eyes broken heard all consuming voided – gone checks cashed runaway mom take back decisions made better life absent shade too late change past future hopes dreams last action counts words fly desperate times for you and I.
Tactical with your hands the way you smooth my skin beneath fingers so cool. A promise held in your palm where it blends away pain into pressure and pleasure. Your touch sifts away the world, leaves me gasping in relief that we are not alone.
Wrap me in the mysteries of your dreams, oh, sweet one with your eyes of green, where the magic pools and smiles go to dip beneath that inner glow. Wash us deserving in the shadows of your pain where the struggle is real, no longer a game and all that once was becomes real again.
“Tom, there’s no way that they can take another round. See that ocular leakage, way over tolerance.”
“Yeah, yeah I know Bill. I can hear too can’t I? Ancestral recall or personal identification with Canis lupus do you think?”
“No family resemblance but that baying is putting my skin on edge regardless. How you want to do this? We’ll get some sympathy views if we drag it out—personal favorite of mine I’ll have you know since this is our first time working together—might even get a couple more weeks out of the budget. Holds a lot of risk with this pair though from what we’ve seen and neither of us wants to explain why we’re carting off a pair of body bags.”
“Fair point. How would you feel about a hybrid? Start off slow but keep an eye on a drop dead date where it all crescendos again and forces a clean cut. Watched Geoff do something similar once. Takes finesse, as always, but it can be done.”
“I’m game, closeouts are your arena anyways from what I hear, I’m better at the fluff and the early game. Just let me know the confidence and insecurity tables you want to use before we start so I can keep things on track.”
“Retro-consideration and empathetic quotients are going to be key factors as well. Can you send Jim to let psych know that we will need their numbers first. Future orientation has always been lacking in 5KY3 and like you said, we don’t want any b-bags.”
A sense of calm resignation is starting to settle in. So often shunted aside still for madcap panic and desperate flailing as this faltering shell of a body which carries an acidic sonofabitch that wants out while refusing to take pleas, no’s, or prayers as a hint to get lost. It’s there on the outskirts as the magnitude, the absolute fucking magnitude of how colossally I’ve screwed the lives of those around me up, while trying to ruin my own existence..
It always sat there just on the outskirts, even when it should have been blatant. The self concocted cocoon of ignorant bliss I had woven around myself to keep the realities of life and the need for growing up at bay made sure that even if I was looking at it head on, I wouldn’t see. I’d spin it internally, sometimes to deflect the judgement and actions needed, sometimes to punish myself further and feel so amply deserving of it while begging confusion to those closest to me.
God help me. I sat there blind to love, affection, nurturing, opportunity, friendships, my children, the actuality of LIFE itself.
All in favor of an endless repetition of the same monotonous actions. Awake, chase, get high, drink, crash, rinse and repeat ad infinitum, The same rhythm that most humans are going through their awake, cabinet, coffee, drink, functional, productive, competent portions of their day to day.
What has it cost?
I’m sitting in the mountains which are my peaceful place, body too exhausted to hike or sleep. Dimly aware that I’ve imploded yet another beautiful person’s life, tucked mine into an 18’ trailer, and spiraled into oblivion while desperately fighting a battle that can’t be won on my terms. Beginning to come around the edges of what that actually means–to be so viral, so toxic and caustic in someone’s life that you can literally see it reshape their entire being from what they were prior–knowing that even if it wasn’t intended, that’s what happened.
To know that the fiber of your being is so saturated in selfish self-hatred that it closes you off to the possibility of trusting and believing that anyone could actually love you for a person you don’t even know any longer, yourself? Knowing that sounds like Narcissistic Personality Disorder and digging around to see if there’s ways to be less of a screaming manchild asshole only to find that if it’s really the case, there ain’t shit to be done?
To realize that I don’t even fucking know what things I actually enjoy in life? To have focused so many countless hours on a single destructive course that it has literally obliterated all remnants of understanding about what joy means. How love is shown. What fun is. How to treat others or myself in any sort of a humane way laced starkly with the deep confusion of always being at odds with myself to begin with. That I have erased inborn gifts, destroyed my mind, poisoned my body wildly–that I will die younger than I had to and may never have the chance to see my children again. That my children have been growing up without their father.
Being aware now of the wreckage and turbulence behind my passing from those unlucky enough to have had me walk into their life “chaos incarnate” as I used to joke. To not even be able to apologize in any sort of a meaningful way yet because time and action is all that really will matter, could matter at this point. To not be able to say thank you sufficiently where I mean it within such limited scopes as I’m tooled to have the capacity for. The endless dreams that have died in lieu of one more hit, one more drink.The beautiful dreams that staggered onward beneath the weight only to have the carpet ripped out from under them again. The smashed hopes that held them aloft for so long.
It is seriously time for a change. So for the first time in YEARS, I’m throwing in the towel, surrendering, and just going with it. I have a bed at a program starting in a few days, a kennel for the dog, a storage spot for the trailer/home, and a hiatus from school while I straighten myself out and make some so critically needed changes. Peter Pan with a crack pipe and a 100u shot–fuck it’s old.
The next time I write will be on the back end the next 30+ days probably, so until then, thanks for everything and all the kind words, help, camaraderie, and digital awesomeness that is everyone else out there. Addiction’s a beast. Mental illness is a beast. But neither gives any permission to keep perpetuating that cycle endlessly or to inflict them on those around you.
Time to give up the fight and go back to the drawing board, starting fresh all over again.
Hey there Teacher, with the faltering step and the windblown hair. What’s the story all about, the one you told from the side of your mouth. Where honesty met a curve, tongue lolled to one side and spilled out some verbs. I know it’s tough to turn the glass, that shining mirror which overwhelms the past. Where bullshit shines greasy like sludge, and all the distortions are gone, back to the mud.
Hey there Teacher, with the drugs in your system and cheap sex on your brain, Do you remember when you stopped learning and just sought out pain? Stopped spitting out wisdom and bought your own lies? I know you know the system and how it all spins, I didn’t think you one who would cheat to win. Thieving and twisting until your charm is clear, problems abound but you never paused to hear. Words and actions meant to help and soothe all your fears but you were too deaf and I was too near. Fucked up actions that caused all the pain, hell you admitted the abuse from your side but then changed the game. Cut out the bullshit and tell it all true, I’ll try the straight route and see what you do.
I cheated – when I thought things were open, so you fucked three more guys and used sex as a weapon. I hurt you with words – called you freeloader and more, you called me a psycho, a piece of shit, pathetic, and evened the score. I didn’t make changes in the ways that I should have, didn’t take the time to address my behavior in the ways that I could have. Stopped taking my meds to test out a theory, that I wasn’t so crazy just misinterpreting the scenery. I didn’t have the courage to stand by my gut, so I broke like a loser and washed myself free of blood in the cut. I didn’t trust you completely and thought it was trash, an actress putting on skins and a falsified past. I actively ignored you and left you to your own devices, was bitter and hateful and often times spiteful. All the while I bent the world to help you realize your dreams, pulled out the stops, went into debt without question, begged on street corners when shit went south even though I wanted to scream. Started school, accepted disabilities, got a job, begged my family, all to put food in our mouths. I changed my approach a thousand and one ways, became more patient, understanding, sought to attain empathy, sympathized, recognized, and upended my reality, all so that I could spend time with you for some much needed days. When I asked for time and some space to calm down, you pushed, poked, and prodded – gaslit me all over town. You had me fooled for so long that I lost who I was, abused me emotionally, mentally, and then called it love. When push came to shove at the end, long past due, asked to be friends then found something to fuck with again, even if it’s true. So I snapped and said I was done and that it was all dead as could be ever blocked you like I’m supposed to and wished this would all blow over. I’d forgiven you for everything, moved past it into the future where I saw smiling people and less lies. Then you guinea pigged me and question why I lashed back, you robbed me digitally for the last of my stack – the money I sent you strings free the week before when I still had nothing, might as well have been burned. The cops could have put you in jail, they have your license plate number now–watch out for that tail. I asked them to drop charges and they said they would, my comment was, “she’s in a horrible situation and deep down she’s all good.“ But then I find you spewing hate all over my safe place, the one outlet I find online. Evidence says your besmirching me everywhere at this point, reaching out to other exes and raising unnecessary hell all over this joint, trying to get my goat got – and I understand that’s just fine. So realize that while you’re smoking that next bowl, hooked on the shit and getting tagged for it on the down low, I’m happier now for a month then I have been since I met you, not intended as a stab, just honesty, since I look back on our time with regret and much rue. I regret and apologize for all of the fights, we should have never been together, you and I just aren’t right. You were my entire world, believe it or not, and by you my sun set and would rise. Special you wanted to be and special you were, now you are nothing but a nightmare and a thieving cur. And if you want to go fire with fire we’ll both of us burn, don’t make me reopen charges and shine a light on your emotional spurn – meth, dick, deceit and theft, you’re the one no one should trust, hell, I shouldn’t have for a second and I hate that I still feel like I must. So go lay in the gutter all filled with hate, funny how it rings so loudly as manipulative a classic NPD emotional quake. Fuck your intolerant and misjudging voice, you’ve slandered my ass far too often to care, but that was your choice, I learned enough from you and I’m done with the lessons, you speak pretty proudly for a someone who treats their latest attachment as a lifelong obsession. Clearly your conscience is clear, there are no places of doubt, I wish you would actually finally cough up your bullshit stories and stop playacting on what this was all about. Shower someone else with a thousand dull points, bleed your issues on them till you’re all run dry, except that you don’t want to do anything about them, you don’t even try, you just want the sympathy to help you look good and pure while you endlessly justify. Goodbye for forever, and good luck out there, Please don’t come back into my life, we shouldn’t have married, I was no husband and you were no wife.
Hey there Teacher, with the red eyed face. I made mistakes and fucked up your life and made it all bad, but I thought we made our choices ourselves and shouldn’t be sad? I adored and admired the person you were, but now you use my name like some dirty slur. I won’t darken your days or your nights, all I ask is you get gone and do what is right. Teacher, you’re all that I needed, but it’s time to staunch the wounds and stop the bleeding. Good luck in life, I don’t wish ill on you despite what you’re feeling, I swear, someday, hell, you might even see that I genuinely cared. I found that “me” that I lost, the confidence now to not get talked in circles like a fighter might box. I’ll share my happy with the world with refinement and friends, now that your sickness is gone I can finally breath again. No more second guessing – nothing that won’t make sense, Hell, I’m back on my meds and feeling peace and its wealth. Feeling feelings again that aren’t belittled or kept stealth. I’m free and wished you well while you stole from the bank, no more parasite on my soul and my heart watching and mocking while the ship ran aground and sank. I’m not perfect, I’m deeply and totally flawed, but your hate is misplaced, and your speaking all wrong, if I was more talented I’d try and put it to song. At least then you’d pay attention and might actually have listened, which I didn’t do until it was too late, that’s another fault of mine, an ommission. but that’s ok, it was an error, something I would have changed, a MISTAKE. So Teacher, the class is dismissed and we’re out of session, I’ll end this babbling shit show with some questions. Why is it that you hate me for everything that’s passed? You’ve done just the same, mimicked my every action in fact – each nail you drive home, does it stick also to you? Do you recognize the hypocrisy your hate is laced thick with?
Do you even fucking care to just look at what good times we had as a gift? The only thing left when the love died was respect in what you were – does it hurt to know now that she’s gone, that imaginary incredible girl? The one who says she wouldn’t tell anything but the truth, never be vicious, always patient and would never steal. You’ve broken every value you pretended you had, why am I’m supposed to be the one that leaves this situation feeling terribly bad?