Posted in letters, Memoir, Poetry, prose

diary excerpt —the old broke through

Felt brave -well enough, so i peered into the book and read his words. Our words.

Jan 19, 2017, 2:13 PM

Stopped my thoughts

and when i stopped
writing you
voices flooded in -mocking

“Why are you bothering?”
“You’re not going to make it?”

Concentrate on anything
but this
this tight chest and lorazepam.

The knife digs in -relentless.

“Just take it.” I hear.

Forced to give in
I conquer fear.

i feel safe.
i’m home.
And that can be
a problem
i need to overcome.

Do u think it is social anxiety because i read something and it made sense. But also about attachments and neurosis.

Do u know when u dont answer i can find myself growing anxious. Second guessing myself, not feeling safe for saying stuff i mean to keep to myself. I havent been bothered lately. I find myself looking around but im okay. Just a couple times, anxious, and

upset with myself because of this.

I cant be still not knowing what to do. Should, or rather, i need to talk.

I dont know and that makes it bad. Then another thing, this taking medicine. Should i try to stop. Maybe ill be all right. But what if not. Will it just cause more harm. Fretting that im stuck in this hole. But i dont feel stuck now, everyone is gone. Its okay. Its better that way. This is long.

Sorry.

I only notice when I leave the house. Looking out

the top floor window seemed safe to leave; leaving was a totally different reality.

“What do you think? I feel like i should be able to go outside but find myself sleeping, not able to move.” He didn’t have an answer.

“I think ill be okay. Thought maybe if i came to talk every 2 months…” She continued the conversation but never realized he was closed off to her after too many years of stagnation.

The escape. A shadow dances, from out the corner of her eye. Her mind unable to override the dark sky.

——–

Stopping my thoughts today? Good luck. I finish my papers but when i stop writing it all floods in, mocking me. “Why are you bothering? Your not going to make it?”

After a while, trying to write, i just couldnt write. Couldnt concentrate on anything but this. My chest is tight and hurts. I tried relaxing, taking lorazapam. Nothing works.

Its all front and center reminding me its not over no matter how much i wish and want to be free. I have no answers or know what im doing wrong.

All i did was stop and something took advantage of the weak wall.

The old broke through.

Posted in Poetry

Abandoned Voices

The emptiness was swallowed. In the end, nothing was left except tired. She took to the pillows with ease. Found her pulse where needle injections hurled insults into the vein. And breathed through another night, absent of light.

Posted in Poetry

tragic.

Mirror,

how do you
tell yourself truth?
in bite-size portions, snacks
in-between meals or buffet-style realization?

The never ending comparison
words written
as if boobs matter.

Who else makes such remarks?
If not for Anne Sexton, i
would have no clue why
i am or am not.

Anne said it best…

“Perhaps I am no one.

True, I have a body

and I cannot escape from it.

I would like to fly out of my head,

but that is out of the question.”

let confusion continue.
you believed the wrong men. the girls
crueler than an autumn sun
toying with warmth.

Posted in Photography, Poetry, prose

Worried (Thoughts Unleashed)

Borderline Crossing

My mind worries about everything. For instance, I contemplated if I should allow comments or turn them off on my blog. I don’t get many, so that is not the problem. The problem is coming across the right way in my answers. Please don’t get me wrong whatever I decide. I will only worry more.

Cinco de Mayo 2020

Then, I worry about food. My mother was very overweight and I was deathly afraid of ever having to be seen. So I refused food until I became a mother. Then I ate as if I never tasted spaghetti or tuna or chocolate chip cookies before. And I still have a propensity to over eat. I love the taste of food and I am a pretty damn good cook. Just wish I never had seen a plate, fork and knife. I am doomed.

Cape Cod Passions

And the last thing on my mind this morning is a dear friend who sent a note. Should I write back or wait a while? I once confessed a growing love while guilt tripped me up. The feelings were built over tides and shifting sand. I never intended to devour the sour or sweet. Meanwhile, insecurities continue to flourish under the bridge to cause more angst. Oh! to speak out loud, these morning thoughts, chases the sun away. I should go play under the clouds and worry alone.

Posted in Photography, Poetry, prose

Just Dance

Dance first. Think later.
It’s the natural order. —Samuel Beckett

What am I doing here? Does anybody really know? I suppose some of us do. The smart and put together ones.

I sit up nights worrying who I am. Resign myself to think I may never know. Knowing one day I am sunny and the next day I send shivers up the coolest cat in town.

Life was going swimmingly. I had plans. I felt my square edges had been rounded to fit in society’s cylinder vision. Then, you know, a virus spread like a bad case of halitosis. Why didn’t someone tell that person to keep their mouth shut? Yeah! I wouldn’t have the nerve to tell someone either.

Then I have another problem. The world is divided along political lines. And religion. And between truth, morality, and friendship. I’m somewhere in the gray area of exhaustion.

I realize I am as much to blame. So I sit and wonder. Will I have courage to change my life to compensate for these wavy thoughts.

No. Im not suicidal. Not this time.

Still, I need a break from this break. Sit awhile and sing me a song?

Posted in Photography, Poetry

My heart is a corridor


I cannot seem to walk past a door
lonely, in the pursuit of time
the wind’s impatient brush with forever

we stood in the hollow
bodies carved from sharpened rock
and painted yellow
the dim-lighted blackened space

You obviously see me
spared the chance of fading out
the rain washes our conscience clean.

Posted in Poetry

she kept a vigil

The darkest sleep waits
while restless creeps
four walls of restraint

slowly dawn gathers
lost fortunes of judgment
her hands snuff the candles

in careless abandon
the coffin lid closes
settles her passions, unrobed.