R.W.S.

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Embarassment

Written 2024-03-14

They act as if I'm too much to handle,
an embarrassment, a flighty dolt

But I see so much, so much, so much
Good and bad, the fragility of everything
the bizarre rhythmed brutality of life
laying me down softly and boldly, and

I argue with myself about going or not
entirely engulfed in uneasy dissension
severely grieved with the inability
to commit to a single course, any course

Tears fall freely; I break at the sight
of the sun flickering through the trees
the glorious mottling of light
painted on this old country mile

The music swells as I pull up to the house
I didn't go, and while I feel disappointed
I find great solace in having stolen
those few precious moments of sunshine

I don't care what they think- I'm not theirs
to handle; my madness is mine alone to carry.

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Covering up

Written 2024-03-14

Yesterday I wore the powder blue sweatpants
everywhere that I went- shopping, counseling,
taxiing my little tribe of misfits around town

I also wore my favorite hoodie
the bright purple one that fits just right
and isn't too hot and makes me feel safe

Resistance to the mundane aside,
the day brought appointments, errands and ire
the modus operandi of maintaining nothing

And at sunset, I slipped myself into
coffee cup pjs and a cozy sweater
in an attempt to cover the emptiness

Though there was really no need to hide
(invisibility suits me well)
and the numbness took me quietly to bed

Today I showered and put on some makeup
I even wore jeans (the purple sweatshirt remains)
Oh, and the powder blue pants are in the bin.

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I wish I could stop it.

Written 2024-03-14


Today has been a bad day
While alone, I've cried almost constantly
And,
While in the company of others,
I have raged;
I've thrown things, broken things, put things back together
I've driven stupidly, punched stuff, shouted
mean things at everyone
I would try and right myself
But,
I'm caught in the avalanche.

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Alice

Written 2024-03-14

She grows, she shrinks
      She grows, she shrinks--

Everything is much too big:
      these injustices
      breaches of decency
      time and bodies and want

Except that which is too small:
      knowledge, vision, hope
      the life of the poor
      time and bodies and want

She grows, she shrinks
      She is too big, she is too small--

Life hurts so much,
      But it's still beautiful.

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Synchronicity

Written 2024-03-09


I’m entertaining a controlled panic:

As it turns out,
I am completely in sync
with this shit show-

How does this keep happening?

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At the defense attorney’s office, waiting while they revictimize my daughter..

Deposition

Written 2024-03-08

I’m sitting here in the waiting room:
Stained carpet rorschachs everywhere,
Abraham Lincoln staring off in thought,
and a painting of the lady in the red pumps—

Her arms are crossed in defiance;
Smokey haze and trash encroaching,
Aggressive pack of adversaries looming,
But her mind is set—

Determination holds her perilously upright
She sits poised, as royalty—

They will not break her today.

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T h r i v e

Written 2024-03-03

I do, Love
I do
But I'm not the child
that I once was

There's a strange softness now
because I have fallen
for myself

And while even I find
this peculiar
it's true-

I'm no longer desperate
for validation

I enjoy the loneliness, and I
t h r i v e there

I've learned that-
And I mean this
in the purest way-

I don't need to be ‘loved’

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In the Deep

Written 2024-03-03

Although I’m being tortured by
this godawful playlist,
and the roadways are packed
with swellheaded asses,
I’m here, driving, but also naught-

My mind, it reaches,
lays bold strokes of Red,
then backtracks to flitters and flutters
until the butterfly effect
rests upon my heart-

And then the question hits me-
strikes me-shocks me-
How would they fair?
Do they really need me?
Or an open ear, rides, a warm body?

It guts me to consider that
all might be ordinary.

I don’t know what that means.

I think of Christmas Lights;
of closed bridges and highways;
I see consequences, maybes,
Forget-me-nots,
And they hurt me.

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Small talk

Written 2024-03-01


I saw a therapist the other day.
She seems excited
to dig into my skull
so that’s cool.
I told her that I want my memories back.
She seems to think we can find them.
I hope so.

Then there’s the small issue
of the otherworldly noticings.

Oh, and the weather. It’s been weird.

Damn it.
How can 20 years have passed?

And,
while I am well aware
that I’m not the poster child
of sanity,
I can’t find a way
to make this make sense.

I’ve referred to myself as a watcher
For many years. The irony
does not escape me.

What’s next?

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Oops.

Written 2024-02-24

Of course my therapist
wanted specifics.

And of course, I was
wonderfully manic and obliged.

Hallucinations, check.
Not too hard to talk about.

Delusions, nope.
When you're wearing the clothing,

You think it must look good.
No one notices the stains, right?

When I told her that I'd begged Aaron not to take me to the hospital all those years ago; when I told her how bad it was, oversharing as I like to do; when I told her that I'd been afraid of being locked away; she told me that it was an understandable notion, and also a real possibility.

Oops.

I'm still figuring things out over here.

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