Tag Archives: Mourning

Fragment -3.99

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,

My family,

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.


Fragment -2.4

There was a time I would chase you.

One where I’d want to win so much I’d fold all my pieces I can tell you would adore before peacocking around in displays of a lesser love.

I’d flirt like an Eames Era harlot, victim, or assassin depending on the best to suit you.

These falseness fangs allude me most days now.

I’m tired.

More human than ever.

And it just doesn’t interest me really. Not quite like getting to know someone’s bones or celebrating their victories over their loses.

It’s left me on other planets.

Or swimming in tesseracts far from the fingerprints of such a vain instant gratification world.


Left me in such solitude, I already so greatly admire and adore, I may just dissipate much like I appear.

So I leave it to everyone else to ask about what they need to know about me before just flittering back to the places stars are born.

I used to care about this more too.

I’d feel bad about owing someone something for their time or attention.

But it’s beyond me lately.

It’s my hair I’m growing to several feet of length for other dues or dedications.

It’s the only thing I can do after work for other people anymore.

Fragment 10.267

The world askew,

The invention of false outlets,

Where you can write yourself anew,

For my entire span to date,

While I was still watching

The sunset in a field,

With the animals

And my flute

Connecting with the vibrations of the living world.

Tuning into me, them, it,

With every inhale

The exhale

Creating beautifully loved

Bubbles of thought

despite the ill.


I’ll go sit alone

On the pond and bench

Erected in dedication

Where we buried my cousin,

Because we used to catch bullfrogs in terrace ponds in summer

Crawdads in fall,

Grasshoppers for bait,

While we laugh whole heartedly and fish there,

Because I miss the life in the world too much.

While I hum him another

Orchestra I wrote

That will never see paper,

Due to the state of green money and it’s current rule.

I just need to smile like that,

Family of mine,

Where there was always time

And love never had some sort of ruling or end.

I miss all 22 of you kindred of mine.

And if they are right,

I’ll see you all in the blink of a benevolent eye

Where my red poppy fields are abundant,

While my imagination erects that light emitting palace,

Situated on the perfect floating star cloud beyond time.

The downside however,

I don’t know if I just miss you all,

Or I’m stricken with grief because humanity isn’t very beautiful anymore.




Fragment 9.777

Then life had me take job training about abuse,

Here is what I learned he had 4/5 that made him  likely to become an abuser. The fifth, living with me.

Every form of abuse sans physical and exploitation was occurring.

Verbatim though,

I’m really currently exercising dead demons as I am rebuilding my happiness.

It’s almost halloween of course I’m going out to work on it some more.

I had to make it bigger with games this year.

So you know I had to start super early ❤ I can’t wait already.

Costumes bought, only one to re dye.

Scarry porch hidden,

The lights for three areas start this weekend with the porch.

And if there’s time,

The super scary sectioning for our jump scare.

Singing ooooh deee dee baby. Watch out for a drought in dust bowl country especially.






Fragment 8.001

Funerals every 120 days or less,

For 1890 days in a row-

Make it hard to smile.

But I do.

I will.

People just don’t understand,

Because they’ve never lived these tragedies

So many days,

Making sure to remember:

The bountifulness of living,

Of carrying on,

Of remembering the sun still rises.

And it still takes my breath away every time.

All of it most days now makes me wonder-

Who will I be on the other side of tragedy?

How many I meet, will remember this with me?



Penumbra Boulevard


Wrapping my favorite,

Gray and black rose cloak

Around my low hanging shoulders,

I hit he door way to another world again.

Heavy head,

Too heavy to understand.

Black hat,

Hiding only tired eyes.

I just let my hair be wild now.

I no longer care what the world has to say.

I let my eyes carry their sorrow and growing disdain.

One thousand, one hundred and twenty-five days.

A taste of salt that never strays.

Sleepless nights,

Dreams twisted and frayed-

Constantly choking me when I wake.

It’s four lanes whether

I’m barely breathing or burning alive.

Shedding that tread like each new skin.

Makes me wonder,

Which darkly named

Street corner shadow

Is following me now?”

Because I don’t even turn round to see.

I just know,

It’s never going to have me.

There are too many miles,

Full of beauty, life, destiny-

Just ahead of these gnarled, erratic, and decayed trees.

Words: M(e.)

Backstreet Healing: Corporal phantom 


Dissipation Apparition Relinquishing


I can’t believe she disappeared.

If it had been a fading,

It would be an easy pill to take.

But the memory replays everything you say,

Or said,

Like it’s still the same moment,

With a tired face,

That replaced the young one she used to see.

One song on repeat,

Too many times to sway

Fate to darken your door today-

O any new day.

And before you ask why,

Know the tears soaked too many of your musings

To see,

To clearly discern those yesterdays.

The faded, aged, and warped glass

Makes you seem even less

Kind and earnest than you were –

Like when you were so tender in all your ways.

Akin to a second skin of another man,

She would have never even spoken to.

And now all she can see is the stranger,

Not a single piece of who you used to be.

And aren’t those drifters ever so frightening

To such an unassuming thing-

You used to know she’d always be.

Which is why she slipped,

So very quietly away,

When your eyes were jaded

And you were looking the other way.

Her lips,  sealed tight-

Because what was there left to say,

Weren’t you just an outlander,

Last she checked anyway?

Words: M(e.)

Decamped Specter: littlemewhatever

Forlorn Fabrication Fusion: Justin Vernon – A Song for a Lover of Long Ago

Water, Nowhere.


Raging fire,


Missing hope filled desire.


Words still dissipating,

Floating from thought

Into thin air.

Scorching intensity,





Irreplaceable soul,

No longer able to speak.

Not here to douse,

Large, destructive,


Incinerating fire.

All this anger,

Still hangs just above

Every attempt to regain

Some sort of tranquil bridge

Between the chasm of the living

And death.

Water, evaporated.

No end to the effervescent,


Burning, angry fire.