New artsy dining tables,
blue vintage-ish sleeper sofa,
An apartment on the river,
A new star delivery,
My favorite parts of town,
And just so much more beautiful serenity twined serendipity.
Counting the dreams until settled.
I’m going everywhere it calls ❤
You coming? 🙂
When they said she might be bipolar it all made sense.
One full day of hospitals.
More hatred than I could imagine from my own kid.
The one I had sacrificed for, spoiled, given everything to, the one I wore the same clothes to give to for at least 5 years.
The one who would never let me comfort her. The one I couldn’t help with bike riding. The one that outright lies for no reason about a teacher not letting her eat lunch when she’s 7.
The one that’s told me how to mother her, her entire life.
I thought it was my fault anyway.
Until the medical professionals started looking at me like Frankenstein because my daughter just swallowed 75 of her Ritalin pills.
She’s something else.
A different disorder.
But she’s got her therapist around her finger because damn is she good at that.
I’m just different.
Different with her, with my son,
Just less of something I cannot ever put into words.
It’s mostly war and quiet and tired mixed with it all. Whatever it is.
I’m not sure it gets better.
You get used to a certain level of the misery though according to some psychologist comedian.
So there’s that.
I just constantly hope that I can learn to not be like every other mother and keep my happiness disproportional to hers directly.
I remember the physicist.
He said his daughter was 35,
And it was another boy too,
It was the 8th stent since 15.
And I remember the feeling of actually not having to dumb my words down to have a conversation. Or having to sugarcoat anything. Or having to pretend I even cared to fit into a society that didn’t help any of the four of us before then. One that probably led to it all anyway.
I’m reading all the books he recommended now.
And it’s just statistics despite the advertising on the cover. Things I can do for myself.
I just got this roll and it’s mine to roll with too.
I do get the occasional entertainment of watching men lose their minds over her.
Yes, she’s absolutely gorgeous, mostly nice when she wants something or attention, but batshit, her sperm donor is a military ballistics psychopath, she’s warp the entire rest of your life manipulative, never be satisfied, controlling, hoarder from my mother crazy. Good luck to you brother.
I’m her mother. I get the limited really good days by default.
Present to myself goal in 18 months as I sing the end of the dead breed and learn to be a sinner saint.
Wicked red forty eight special fits baby. Watch the dust, please.
Black velvet hair and first time banshee bangs sound divine in the mean time.
Don’t think I’ll recognize myself either. Good thing,
I’m going to outrun the bounty you think you still have on me.
Ooo oui ooo 🖤
I don’t want to burden anyone with the weight of love anymore.
Caring for a minimum of 18 people a day does not allow much left to give.
How could I be anything but too much and not enough simultaneously?
How would I be anything more than Saturnine the days I should have slept more?
I’d love to be a second sun instead, leaving beams for reflection instead of all this lead swirled with flammable gases.
But it’s winter in my marrow sometimes, instead of some light to fade the rain.
And all of my words trying to sustain life before the rings of my discontent cost me all of it, forever.
Maybe I just need someone to hibernate with during the right seasons.
A large inch sliver of my wedding ring finger,
Lodged between razor blades.
A tinge of excruciation every time I bump it.
The blood that doesn’t stop until I seal it with the sting of black powder potassium ferrate.
And I get home to the internet connection again for the first time in 12 hours to claws again.
I’m stuck with nothing to say.
Stuck not explaining or caring.
Wedged between the commonality and the opposites
Trapped wondering if I should even bother because there’s a million other places and people calling me.
Tied living in doubt of my accuracy.
My bed seems closer,
Yet, less comforting and less confusing.
I just want to show someone all the places Eden hides.
Introduce someone to all the one of a kinds.
My words hang like gallows being near another slice of flesh today and how much more that imaginary one will out do the real one.
An eraser or a pen, a conversation or an idea, a rough beginning or premature end,
And a wheel of fortune spins.
Maybe I’ll buy a better body like every other American,
A new front door,
Then let just pretty fleeting things grace my floor.
Perhaps I’ll just lie on the soaked ground until this expired body finally lets my electricity go or I turn into a mountain.
He said was married for a long time,
Searching my eyes for a flickering flight.
Another time and his eyes would have melted every inch of my smile.
Any other time his body would have been a welcome visitor of beds between stop lights and stories of nights passed by.
But all that’s left of me,
Is just a fight to survive.
A long roadside explosion
Leaving next to nothing behind.
There are hours,
With a skip left to climb.
It’s looming so heavy,
Like my frame once had,
Like the 70 hour work weeks of the last 2 months have.
But it’s the year of the earth dog and I’m going to learn to swim in the serendipity again.
With the animals that know death is a figment because consciousness is bigger than that, the people that figure it out, and the scientists closer to proving it today ❤️
Valentine’s for me isn’t about romantic love. I met my friend turned sister at a tragic comedy play after break ups at 15. It’s our 20th this year. What unique perspective it gives the Saint consumers holiday to say the least. This is life’s humor, life’s end game, the personal perspectives hidden behind more than what people think.
Even not here,
I wish you a thankful 20th on this rock of sorrow filled, comedic perpetuity. Our laughter, healing salve for hopefully another 70.
May it be whatever you need it to be, even celebrating this one with me ❤️
from the creator of Free Verse Revolution
Only We Can Change our Life, No one Else Do It For Us!!
Reflections of the Sensual and Seductive
Exploring open roads without breaking the bank
How I escaped from my cocoon while running a business and raising two kids without completely losing my mind
Emotional musings- firstname.lastname@example.org
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