If you cracked open my chest. And Ironed out my heart. You will see. Your imprints all over the soft, red, glistening surface. You have taken over this intimate space. I love you for it. And I hate you for it.
(I dreamt a dream, and this is all I remember.)
An ode to shortbread cookies:
Dear shortbread cookies,
You make me smile. Really, you do. You are delicious and all-around awesome. I just wish that evidence of your buttery goodness would not sit so prominantly on my tummy and in my heart valves.
God give me strength. A day like today should never be experienced by anyone. No father. No mother. Should bury their child. Let today be a reminder that one child’s death at the hands of such debauchery (gun violence, war, drones, apartheids, hunger) is one child too many.
It is one child too many.
I am falling down. Deeper and Deeper I sink. Into this infinite hole.
Family. Friends. Partners.
I land softly.
It’s cool here.
I want to embrace the comfort that is being offered.
The comfort of no expectations. No lies. No betrayals.
The comfort of not getting hurt again.
I COULD rebuild here.
Rewind the hands of time.
Take a different course.
NOT the EXPECTATION of myself.
I get up. Dust myself off. Place my hands on the wall. Take a deep breath. Feel the coolness of the air on my skin. Inhale the earth. Blink back my tears.
And begin my climb. With renewed vigour.
I am coming.
(Dec. 3rd free write; prompt: falling down)
The heart has been poked at a few times. I dismiss it. It is best not to go THERE (I tell myself). It is a world of Pain. Of Misery. Of Grief. Wrap it up with a million excuses. When I pack up. And leave. They will understand. Perhaps then they will Ponder. And Muse. And Wonder. Why?
(8 minute free-write)
It’s THAT calm before the storm. It is inside of me, and around me. It’s brewing. Deep within the ventricles of my heart. The folds of my brain. Amongst the whispers of people.
Says my brain. Says my heart. Say the people. Say my friends.
Say the desired after lovers.
It’s coming. That calm before the storm.
Here comes the madness.
It will end. Eclipsed with feelings of regret. What-If’s. Incompetence.
(10 minute free-write)
The anger is back. Raging. Madness. It is directed at me. To me. Self-Hate. Loathsome.
I despise me.
I despise my ability to make lists.
I despise myself for my inability to complete the lists.
Tomorrow will be better.
Nay. Tomorrow will be better.
So I Say. So I Say.
But Tomorrow comes. Over and over again it comes.
And nothing gets better.
Take a moment. To Breath. To Walk.
Take it all in. This bastion of sights. Sounds. Smells. Tastes.
Take a moment. Listen to the beat of your heart. The sound of the drizzle. Feel the trickle of water streaming down your face. Smell the crisp air.
This is autumn. And it’s so fucking beautiful.
(5 minute free-write on Tues. Nov. 20th)
Take me off your pedestal. I never asked to be put up there.
Every morning I wake up and wonder. Can I get through today without hating myself more by the end? Will I take a moment to sing? Dance? Paint? Reconnect? Write? Or will it be another day of being Frozen. Stuck. Staring at the proverbial dot on the wall.
(5 min. free-write…)