muting the poet

lately, i feel trapped in a prison of pink and blue flowers...
something so soft, so delicate, and yet their bars won't ever spell out the answers to my questions...
like...if you love eachother enough, does it really work, does it really last?
am i being lied to, or am i just not hearing your truth?
have i lost my edge, or has someone or something else stolen your attention?
or other questions...such as...
why do fathers end up giving up?
why don't they love you like you'd like?
after all these years, would it be easier to write him off?
and the question i find myself coming back to, that i can't bear the truth about...
do all women subconsciously seek men who are just like their fathers?

and...mommy, can you hear me?
because daddy's been dying a long time, he's long gone...

lover won't love anymore...

and i still don't feel good.

your boy's grown up big and strong and healthy...
the girls like him a lot...
he plays baseball well...
smart...
but he does too many drugs, momma...
i'm not sure if it's cause he misses you...
or if he's just bored...
maybe he doesn't feel good either...

daddy sure misses you...
so bad that he's dying a slow death from missin' his woman...
got rid of everything so nothing would remind him of you...
of what he's lost...
and the life he wishes he could lose...

grandma just turned 70...
and just beat breast cancer...
she's lopsided now, but well taken care of...
her spirits are higher than mine...
always have been...
she pushes me...
the way i wish you were still around to do...

your brothers...
one seems pretty happy...been with his lady a long time now
the other seems unhappy...not quite sure why

as for me, momma...
i'm doing about the same...
my heart's never really stopped hurting...
and the stomachache's still come and go...
wouldn't ya know it?
i don't have a problem swallowing pills now...
so many things have happened, and we've grown so big, momma...
adults now...
but something inside me...
i'm not sure what...
never feels good...
i feel like i'm in a constant dream state that i fear i'll never wake up from...
i never once...found god.
i've never felt kind of comfort since i was little and you'd hold me in your arms...
i guess on the outside, you'd be proud of me...
but inside...
you and i are exactly the same...
i just don't think i'm ready to swallow as many pills as you did...

credibility

no words of mine will help you see the error of your ways...

i wanna peel...
off my layers for you.

cry.
laugh.
let go.

i want spontaneity mostly...
but i'd settle on happenstance.

to know that your love...
is as close as i'll ever come to knowing god...
i'm settling on atheism and making sure i never stray too far from your embrace.

i feel like a woman.
who's finally being loved the way she should.

i feel sexy.
like my body, mind, and heart are connected and healthy.

i am forgiveness.
i am enlightenment.
i am revolution.

and i am coming home...

cleaner than my departure.

wisdom

i wish i was old enough to know all the answers...

and i wish i was smart enough to know that that is something that probably won't ever happen...

if time doesn't get me, stupidity will...

i wish my lament had more meaning than what it means to me...

i wish it made sense as it makes my mind feel powerless and wasted...

i wish my fortune had already been told so that i'd truly know what i am worth...

i wish i could see my inner light, but i guess it was built in the wrong place...

i wish i could find, far more than i already seek...

here's to hoping that you'll never forget me...

i'm finding it more difficult every day to be exactly as i am, what i am...

is that even right?

but the tides, turning, can't be seen...

when you're this far from the ocean...

Biscuits

i need to talk myself out of wanting fancy things...
because the beggar's on his last biscuit, and i've still got all mine...
except they're all half gone...
there is nothing more daring than living on the edge of the end...
i wish i could mail myself to somewhere that gave a fuck...
but the score is still uneven and i'm still lacking points...
i'll be optimistic if only i'm given the opportunity...
i still haven't found the treasure my heart seeks and i fear it's because i'm terrible at taking directions...
my father will die before i find the love i need in a cold man's heart...
choke...choke, baby...choke on those words...
but i...
deserve to hurt...
inflict yourself on me before i change my mind...
you'll be just another scar on my skin like a trophy hanging on a wall...
hurt me...
hurt me...
but i will hold him close and breathe him in, as i did my father...
except that he...
will not let go of me in vain...
and he...
will not remind me that i was an accident...
he will tell me that i am wanted, and won't mention that i am just like my mother...
and if he does...
it won't be a bad thing...
this could have been my uprising...
this could be the revolution of my humanity i've been searching for...
but then i look down and see...
i've still only got...

half my biscuits left.

Tastes Like Turpentine

i come home to the faint smell of strawberries being dehydrated...
so many pounds of strawberries for hardly a few morsels of delicious dried out taste...

it seems i haven't got much oomph left in me...

lately, i'm trying my damndest to forgive my father...
but it's only making me want to let him go a little bit more...
not just him, but my oldest and youngest brothers...

who never really got a chance to make up their minds about me...

i'm letting them slip, as so many people seem to do...
right through my grasp, my love, my devotion...

i feel ugly for being okay with that...

but i can't change what's in my heart...
it's so much easier to just let go...

than to hurt...

and be hurt...

and to never see the kind of love that should be unspoken...
instead of unspoken, it's never been heard of...
never been felt at all...

how can a family not feel like a family at all...

selfishness?
abandonment?

or perhaps everyone already has/had their own best interest in mind...

Solace

atheism, because i'm starting to realize that god never really spoke clearly to me...
hell, never really spoke to me at all...

and jesus is about as imaginary as my imaginary friend, davey, was when i was three years old...

we're fighting the wars of our ancestors and we're forgetting everything our mother's told us...
we are stagnating in our own filthy bathwater...

give us an illusion to help us believe that we are clean...

these oversung lullabies aren't helping anymore...
and humpty dumpty is too busy smoking dope to show me how to put myself back together again...

but i was not raised to put my money on faith alone...

i believe in the men who speak of christianity...
the same men who lie, cheat, steal, kill, and covet their own neighbors' wives...

if god were real, he'd have no agenda...comfort.
that's all the reason i can think of.

last night i dreampt of driving up a waterfall, through the city of zombies of those i used to know, and there, inside a watery tomb, sat gabriel, plump with bourbon, in the form of an ex boyfriend...he said "marilyn, stay with us...it's neither heaven, nor hell...but there's bourbon, and you have to stay with us"...i screamed "no, no, no"...and then i woke up...

i'm not sure what to be more disturbed by...driving up a waterfall, or gabriel, in the form of an ex boyfriend, urging me to stay in zombieland...

i guess that's what i get for trying to figure out religion...

i sleep with the snakes...and they don't urge me to eat anything...

I Like Your Acne

i feel like a nobody trapped in a world full of people who think they are somebodies...

i tell you "deeper, harder, faster," because most days...it's the only thing besides your smile to remind me that i'm alive...

i'm an uninspired train wreck, but i have so much to be thankful for...

tell me that's it's going to be alright...

i'm strapped for cash, but find myself so rich with love that it pours from me like coins from a jar...

everyday i find myself less and less believing in god...because i've been shown a science i can not deny...

i can't think of a better use for my heart than holding you up...

people like you belong on pedestals...even if you're afraid of heights...

let's struggle for a purpose...or let's stay, and struggle for much less a reason...

i just want to be the best i can be when i need to...

it's become a long, drawn out, perpetual waiting game, and i'm tired of playing...

somewhere across this plane, brother, we'll find eachother again...and we'll bask in the happinesses the other has found...

uninspired or lazy...?

you be the judge...