Dear Sugars.

Dear Sugars,

My parents split up when I was a baby.  My Mom moved us to the Midwest when I was very young, and I got to see my Dad during Summer visitation.  I loved my Dad.  I relished the time I'd get to spend with him, and even with my Mom's defamation of him, that love didn't start wavering until I was older.  

When I was 8 years old, my Dad remarried a different woman, S, and told me that he was going to have a baby!  I'd have 3 brothers, and I couldn't wait for my new brother to arrive.  

S would watch me while my Dad was at work, and we had such a great time together!  She was everything I wanted in a Step-mom!  She was kind, and funny, and interested in going to the river and the lake, and makeup!  She took me to visit her Dad, "Grandfather", one day who lived near the lake.  He had an incredible little shack made out of logs and old mechanical parts that looked like something out of an old Frontiersmen movie!

While I was visiting the shack, I had to go inside to use the bathroom.  When I came out of the bathroom, Grandfather was standing there, smiling.  He said "hi, Little Sweetheart, picked me up, sat me on a chair, and lifted up my skirt.  He pulled my underwear down to my ankles, and licked my 8 year old privates.  I remember thinking "gross, I just went to the bathroom."  But, I knew that something wasn't right.  There was a knock at the door, and he pulled my underwear back up, and pulled my skirt down and acted like nothing had happened. 

That night, while my Step-mom was in the shower, I sat on the toilet seat, and told her what had happened.  She pulled back the shower curtain and said "I'm so sorry, Sweetie, he does that."  My little 8 year old head never thought another thing about it.  

Now, my Mom, who had been brutally raped and left on the side of the road, bloody and naked when she was around 12 years old, talked to me about strangers, and about bad touches, and about adults doing things to kids, she was always collected and calm.  But, her warnings always ended with "if anyone ever does something like that, you tell me, and I'll kill them.  I don't care if I go to jail for the rest of my life."  My Mom passed away when I was 14 years old, and I never told her.

Skip to 20 years old, I'm living with a co-worker, and I've just lost my virginity.  When I told my co-worker that I didn't really like the idea of oral sex, he asked why?  I told him casually about what Grandfather had done, and his jaw hit the floor.  He told me that that was most likely the reason, and that that was infuriating!  And he was sorry to hear about it.  He said I should tell my Dad, as Grandfather was still around my little brother, and it could happen to him, too.  So, I decided to move back home to the West Coast, in with my Dad and my brother, to try to re-connect, and I wanted to tell him.  One day, while throwing my little brother a birthday party, S and Grandfather show up.  I spent my time cooking and cleaning, and generally just trying to make my brother's day special without having too much contact with S and Grandfather.  

The party finished, everyone had gone home, and my Dad is sitting on the couch with me.  I decide to finally tell my Dad what had happened.  After telling him, his response was "that sucks that you had to keep that in so long."  I was dumbfounded.  That was it?  This is his reaction?  So I do the only logical thing I can do.  I say to him, "if you're not going to have a reaction, can you at least promise me that I'll never have to see either of them ever again?"  He said "sure, baby."  Of course, that promise only lasted about a week.  

My Dad and I got into many long fights and crazy arguments about my Mom, about his selfishness, about child support, etc.  One day, my Dad said to me "all women are whores."  To which I replied, "well, I'm a woman, Dad, does that make me a whore?!"  

I cut ties with my Dad for 3 years, and moved back home.  When I tried to re-connect with him, he stole money from me, and my brother still didn't have his own room, and was sleeping on the couch, because my Dad has a spending problem.  He buys used cars and has a million of them while his kid has holes in his socks.  How could a man I loved so much, be so selfish, so hurtful?

I am now 30 years old, Sugars, and in early June, Grandfather finally died.  I wasn't sorry, in fact, I thought it should have happened sooner.  People that I tell my story to are enraged about what happened, are disgusted by my Step-mom's behavior, and especially my Dad's behavior.  I still have some issues with oral sex, but, once I am comfortable with someone, the issues dwindle.  Some of the people I've told get upset with me that I didn't turn Grandfather in, and tell me that I may be responsible for him having done this to other children, because I stayed silent.  This chills me to the core, and I don't know what to do with that feeling.

Cut to this past Father's Day.  I have forgiven my Dad for so many hurts, Sugars.  I really have.  Missed birthdays, hurtful words about the people I love, selfishness, stealing from me, the way he raised my brother.  I forgive because I don't want to hold onto the anger and negativity.  He'll keep disappointing me, and keep hurting me.  But, if I don't forgive him, it'll only hurt me.  So, I suck up my feelings, yet again, and invite him to dinner on Father's Day.  He informs me that he'll be going to Grandfather's memorial service that day with S.  

Sugars, I'm a 30 year old woman with a great life.  With great friends, with great family.  I have a wonderful job, and I live in a vibrant city.  Things are going so well for me, with the exception of my Dad.  Is it time to simply cut my Dad off completely?  For whatever reason, him going to Grandfather's memorial, the man that sexually assaulted his daughter,  instead of spending time with his kids, is beyond me.  And I think it might just be the most hurtful thing he's ever done to me.  Do I forgive him for the sake of having my Dad in my life, who I want so deeply to know and love, or do I cut him off completely because I can't keep being hurt like this?

Sincerely,

Little Sweetheart

Wanting

There were so many things

I wanted to show you

So many places

I wanted to us to travel

So many times

I didn’t get to pass

I wanted to be a jazz lounge singer

Bright and shiny up on stage

Wearing beautiful gowns

My voice strong coffee

Creamy in those quiet dark twilights

Longing for all eyes on me

I wanted to learn how to roller skate

Play on more teams

Win ugly trophies

Wear my jerseys to bed

To relive my glory days in dreams

Of days gone by

I wanted to tell you that I read The Great Gatsby

Get your opinion of me having read it

Not your opinion of it

Because I know you never read some shit like that

I wanted to introduce you to boyfriends

Get your opinion of each of them

Because you know I’m really shitty at

Letting men get to me

And then break me

I wanted to smoke pot with you

Exhale clouds under the stars

That you sleep in now

I wanted you to know that we are not okay

That it gets worse

Day by day

Made even more so because

You aren’t here to be strong for us

When we can’t be strong anymore

I wanted to be strong

For my brothers

But I am finding

That starry sleep

More enticing

Than wanting

Gorilla Hands

Dry cracked gorilla hands.
They look like hers did.

Picking up avocado peels
off of the wet cutting board.

Each nail a different length.

My hands look like her hands.
And I am ashamed.
I am scared.
I miss her.
I hate her.
I hate her hands.

These tiny gorilla hands.
I can barely pick up
these avocado seeds.
Slippery and wet.

Everything slipping through
these fingers.

Daffodils

Those silly daffodils.
They bloom too early.
Spread their yellow smiles
across freeway ramps and
random places in our gardens.

Those silly daffodils.
They're already wilting,
already brown.

They're all dead now.

Stupid silly daffodils.
Too excited
for the Spring.

Daffodils

Those silly daffodils.
They bloom too early.
Spread their yellow smiles
across freeway ramps and
random places in our gardens.

Those silly daffodils.
They're already wilting,
already brown.

They're all dead now.

Stupid silly daffodils.
Too excited
for the Spring.

MONSTER

If you knew me...

You'd know that
I want
to be a mother.

But, there are steps
I must take
to ensure
a happy, healthy
child.

I must be
financially stable
old enough
have met the
right man

A guy I dated once
told me that
we could have a child
when I saved $8000.
When I asked him why not
$7000, or $9000...
He said $7000 didn't seem
like enough...
And $9000 seemed
like too much.

I dream about
what my child's
face will look like
What kind of person
he or she will be
If I will be a good enough
mother.

Spend my daydreams
thinking up clever names
that they won't get made
fun of for.
Think about what books
I would love to teach them
to read.
Think about first steps
first words
first everythings.

If you knew me...

You'd know that
I have been the one
that 3 girlfriends
have called
to help them
get the abortion pill
they needed

To kill their mistakes.
To bleed out a child
that I would gladly
have by accident.

MAD, ANGRY

It's been almost 13 years since my mom died.
I shouldn't even say she died. 
She killed herself.

I do still find myself sad about it.
But, more often than not
I am mad.
Furious.
Seething, even.

For how could a mother who claimed to love her two children
Be so fucking selfish?

How could she love that high more than us?
How could Demerol and Codeine be more important
Than a future with her kids?
Than her kids' futures?

I am MAD.
I am ANGRY.
 
I would walk into the kitchen at night and see her
With those pills and liquid opiates sprawled out
Her eyes closed
Head tilted back
Mouth open
And every time
I thought
She was dead
I would stop for a second
Look at her
Wonder if I wished it were true
Or not


Then make a loud noise to wake her from
That temporary narcotic sleep.

I am MAD.
I am ANGRY.

She took those drugs to the point of
Never returning.
Heart attack.
At 38.

I am MAD.
I am ANGRY.

If I saw her again, I would tell her. I am MAD.
I am ANGRY.
That mad anger I'm feeling outweighs the saddness
Most days.
I'd ask her if she knows what it's like
To lose her mother
And her father
To painpills.
She'd tell me no,
She's sorry,
She misses us.

She has no idea
That she bore an ugly cigarette burn
In my silk.
This thing, this mark I carry.
This feeling of disgust.
This little brown stray mark
Of gnarled skin, of twisted bone.
That sick scent.
Those colors.

She let her flower wilt before
She got to see us bloom.

And you know what?
We're still going to bloom.
My brother and I.
We're still going to shine on.
Just not as brightly
As we could have
Shined.

Maker of Beautiful Gifts

I have forgotten
What her laughter
Evoked in me

I don't remember
The song of
Her voice

Nor do I recall
The look on her face
When I disappointed her

I am building my own nests now
My own beautiful little things
Weaving little baskets of light
For something else to slip away
And drown in

Building strongholds
Building bridges
Repairing those burnt
Those deconstructed
Out of curiosity

Sharpening arrows to pierce
Through flesh that
Isn't just a memory
As she is now

So that one day,
I can cull
My own disappointments
Without those faces
To drown in

C&B 8/18

their chests rising and falling
outstretched, messy
drunkenly taking up spaces

they are unaware
that they are whole
beings
they have the power to
change
they are
beautiful

altered, under
the influence
their chests
rise and fall
slowly
quietly

almost sleeping now
lost in a dreamland
of calamity
and these green mountains

they have no idea what they want

once they
figure it out
it will
be
too late

and dreams will seem
like beautiful beings
changing.

Dowry

saving up
those memories
like some sort of
dowry for my heirs

as though
i were queen of
a place of pain
collecting rubies of misfortune
diamonds sparkling loneliness
ruling over
a land
that has no idea

turn the key
open the rusted lock

let all the hurts out

reveal what's inside
what i've saved up
all these years

little mementos
little reminders
that i was there
that i lived through it

tread lightly

he doesn't know that he treads dangerous waters
putting limits on things
like time
like life
like love
like forever

there will not be a time when i won't want
to serve a purpose
to make others smile
to cause ripples
to be a mother

because the love i have
could challenge the ocean

these arms are already outstretched
welcoming
waiting
hoping

that there will be no limits

and one day
i'll make a tiny wish
come to the light

for that, i am meant

breach

we compiled names
clever, crack-whip, unembarrassing names
to see that face
that name used up
ridiculed
sent forth
into a world
that is not so forgiving

i tried to rub you out
in spoonfuls
pull you from those hips
remove you from that shaft
take you in
to me
so i could nurture something

twenty four was the breach of contract
a life less worth living
i was not made use of
twenty five
are the last days
the only times
and it will not be today
or tomorrow

years from now
i will remember
all those salty
mouthfuls
and wish i could purge them
back up
and plant them

dear mom.

it seems like i write you a different letter every year...but they all say the same thing.

this year, instead of handwriting it to you and keeping it hidden away...i'm sending it out into the cyber world. one that you are not so un-familiar with. for posterity.

i want to tell you, mom, that i miss you. you already know that. i also want to tell you that you were right. about a lot of things.

you used to say you were scared to death of a crazed mad man in another country, getting mad at us, pushing a button, and our skin would melt off. well...in weird ways, it's happening. i'm glad you're missing it. it hurts the most, seeing horrible things happen, and having no control. we are all control freaks. most need to be in control, many lose control.

it seems i am right in the middle. apathetic. i don't care one way or another. i feel like my apathy is a sickness...that i fear i won't recover from.

i am still trance-walking through my existance like a zombie, looking for something, anything...and i still don't know what. what if i find what i'm searching for and don't realize it.

your life was cut very short. but you still had done things that i haven't at my age. you'd had a child. you'd been married. perhaps you never found what you were looking for...i'll never get the chance to ask you. but...when i think of the "end of the world"...more than fear, a jealousy brews in me. for all the people before me who've lived their full lives, many years, and accomplished more in their lives. this should kick me in the ass to feeling a sense of desire to accomplish goals, to strive to be what i feel i need to be, to see things. but instead, i feel disconnected, depressed, and apathetic.

the world is ending, mom. i think it all started with september 11th, the hurricanes, the tsunami's, the earthquakes, the floods, the nuclear disasters, the oil spills...oh yeah, and the wars. that's right mom. we just bombed libya. this will be the 4th war i'll have seen in my lifetime. thankfully, you were not so lucky to have seen so many. we have used our mother earth up, ma. she's angry. i'm not sure if we were the ones that hit her in the face the hardest, or if we are the ones paying the price for the collective destruction of our ancestors and ourselves.

then i remember, the dinosaurs didn't do anything to warrant total extinction.

but that crazed mad man, may have his finger on the button.

i'm sure i'll be seeing you soon.

-mare

recorded march 13th

this pacific wave
this heart
crashing into the coast
as though
that were the only way
you'd hear it

crushing
crushing everything
in it's path
where does it stop
where is it's beach
where is that point in which
the water will receed

this heart
sometimes this heart overflows
sometimes this heart pours

sometimes this heart pours
pours some more

but never gives
a single drop

recorded march 16th

)my love life(

the traffic lights
change too quickly
around here

cause somehow
they know
that nobody
is coming.

shadows

holding out my hand
reaching for that thing
any
thing

holding back in
telling you
i can't shake
this fever

aching to
take
something
back with me

can't remember
a time
when i
felt

this alone

fox in socks

i sat
drinking
afternoon coffee

daydreaming
about his facial hair
mutton chops

how would they feel
grazing my cheeks
as we made out?

daydreaming
about trimming
my pubes
into mutton chops

how would they feel
grazing his cheeks
as he made out
with my pussy?

one of my most recent conversations

went something like this:

me: ding dong helllllloooooo

him: hello

me: hey. how's it going?

him: biz sucks. but it's going.

me: aside from biz, how are you?

him: was sick for a while, but am better now

me: cold? flu?

him: bit of both i think.

....nothing for 5 minutes

me: well. great talking to you.

him: geez. ok.





now...am i being overly self conscious here? or does this guy want nothing to do with me. i'm trying to be friendly, make small talk. and yet, get nothing in return. not even a "how are YOU?"

this whole disinterest thing is driving me nutzo lately.

rant

i seem to have all of these passive guys in my life. all the guys that want me to make the first move. do all the work.

remind myself that chivalry is fucking dead and buried.

if i could even find someone that feigned interest, it would satisfy me more than how shit's going now.

my bed is cold and empty. i haven't been touched in months. no one kissed me for new years. or christmas. and i will spend yet another valentine's day alone. not doin' shit.

most of the time, i can't even masturbate without feeling rejected, and disillusioned.

i'm gonna go take a cold shower...and remember how timing...is everything

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