adrift

he is so good
at handing his problems
over to me
waiting for me to fix them
so he can blame me
when they just aren’t
fixed
does he even know
what i struggle with
every day?
he is so good at showing
his injuries to me
getting me to cry
over every little bump
& bruise
to his heart & soul
does he even see
how my injuries
bleed out
next to his
& leave me
empty?

okay. maybe you will understand. dusty thinks i have written him off because he was “honest” with me & told me about his still being in contact with hello kitty fuckface (not her real name.) he refuses to comprehend that the reason i am telling him to fuck the fuck off for good & forever is that fact that i have been asking him since 2013 to end his contact/relationship with her. that there should be absolutely no reason for him to be “honest” with me about her because she should not even be part of the equation.
five years.
five years of his using this other woman to manipulate me. holy fucking shit. why have i let him do this to me for five years?
seriously. what is the psychology behind that? am i a chump? a masochist? a desperate & lonely soul? that fucking desperate? that fucking delusional. that fucking dedicated to a happy ending?
what the ever-loving fuck.
and now i find myself having to learn to just walk away. it is so hard…so hard to just walk away. to suppress that urge to have the last word. to suppress that need for him to understand–to just fucking get it for once. i have to walk away. every word i say to him. every conversation i have–it’s the sticky strands of a spider web. his spider web. to keep me engaged…he just wants me to stay engaged…because then he somehow wins?
i don’t fucking know.
or fucking care at this point.
he keeps talking about how we need to talk…thing is, he never talks to me. he never listens to me…he just manipulates and plays me like a fucking pawn in his demented game.

guess what, motherfucker, i quit.

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a foundation for failure

he’s built the groundwork
for my psychotic break
just one word
a whisper
& the grasp
i so desperately hold
on my reality
my sanity
crumbles
so many careful years
he spent
just building on
to damage done
by my parents
by other men
i even handed him
the ammunition
trusting
that he would not hurt me
with it.

though my ever-faithful tarot cards (as well as every other experience i have ever had with dusty) warned me there would be conflict and that it was best if i did not engage…just let it blow over…holy fuck, he knows how to get me to engage. i try so hard to walk away. i say over & over, “i don’t want to talk about it.” but dusty is relentless until there is nothing left of me. just a glimpse of who i used to be as i morph into something i never want to be.
one of my parents.

this was our last dance.
i asked for a sign, and i got it.
there is nothing left here.
i need to move forward.
like, nine years ago…but better late than never.

this journal page is dedicated to my friend nexus who has been very supportive & encouraging of my art…and who knows how it feels to burn at the stake ❤

ribbons & curls

my insides
are all torn
to bits
a bloody battlefield
that used to be
my heart
or is that too
cliche
the mess of me
falling
apart
in ribbons
& curls
of
despair.

because my voice cannot be heard by the one i have tried & tried to talk to, i have started a work of fiction writing–no pictures. it is still forming in my head, but i have written the first paragraph. loosely based on the abusive relationship i am recovering from. i want to share it with people who might understand. also, i need to get it out of my head…and like i said, the person who needs to hear it the most, just won’t listen to it.

also, friendly reminder, there is a link up over yonder (with my pretty face on it) to other fiction pieces i have written & posted on medium.

the queen of swords

when i was doing the pages, killing off dusty, a friend commented to me that it was strong magic i was doing–that it would have an effect on me.

i thought it would put the last nail in the coffin…however, it seemed to cause me to look at my dusty differently. like i had killed off his evil doppelgänger and the curse was lifted & we would live happily ever after.

what?
where the fuck did that come from?
so dusty came to visit when he returned the minions and i was all warm & fuzzy towards him….

what?

it’s true. sad, but true. i started letting myself fantasize the easy fantasy.
what it the father of my children wasn’t a narcissistic asshole? what if he could return to us and be there for me every day and help with the kids and help with the homestead and i wouldn’t have to be alone anymore and i would have someone to talk to…to laugh with…to cuddle and have delicious sex with….

so after he was gone away again, i kept trying to think of ways of making it work out. ways to invite dusty back into my life again. i didn’t want to make the same mistake i had made
over
and
over
and
over.
i would take it slow and think it through and make the right decision.

so i texted him asking if he was dating anyone. i thought this would be a good first step.
he texted back “well psychotic hello kitty cunt-face (not her real name) wants us to be dating but…”

holy fucking christ in a toaster

quick timeline for clarification
2013-2015 –cheating on me with phkcf behind my back while i am pregnant with his fourth child, giving birth to that child, and taking care of an infant & 3 other children.
2015-2016 –telling me he is going to break up with her/refusing to break up with her/ she meanwhile is stalking the both of us and leaving weird little notes, graffiti, presents all over the neighborhood we live in
2016 –i move to fucking manitowoc, wisconsin to get away from the two of them because he won’t break up with her. he immediately breaks up with her (after i have moved away) and supposedly breaks ties with her.
2016-2017 we move to illinois together & try to make another go of it but fail. he goes back to wisconsin where i realize he is back in touch with her & i tell him he cannot be friends with me while remaining in contact with a person who did as much damage as phkcf did.
2018 –i realize he may still be in touch with her because all of a sudden the kids are talking about max the cat whom last i knew he had given to her (in 2013) probably so he would have an excuse to see her. so he got his cat back from her. which means there was definite contact. he says nothing to me. then he casually name-drops her as someone he could be dating?????????????

does he not get it? does he not understand that i do not want this person anywhere near my life? if he wants me in his life in any capacity, she cannot be in his life. why does he not understand that? or does he just not care? he says she means nothing to him & that he wants nothing to do with her…and she is ruining his chances of having any kind of friendship with me…yet he still corresponds with her (at least–he could be doing more–it’s not like he tells me the truth about anything.)

fuck a duck.

so here i am.
i let myself have the fantasy. i let myself go there.
now i am hurting for it.

i should have known better.
why the fuck didn’t i know better?

is it hope or stupidity or human nature or a damaged soul that lets me think he could change?

ancient history

before i met & married dusty and had an on-again/off-again dysfunctional relationship from hell with him…i had a practice run for two years with his kentucky twin.
in 1996 just after i lost the best boy i’d ever known, i fell in with this narcissistic, emotionally abusive asshole.
it should have just been a rebound…but he was so good at manipulating me that it lasted for two awful years. he conned me out of thousands of dollars, put my ego in the crapper, and cheated on me like crazy.
this poem was written about six months in.

holy crap.
i should have read these journals back when stuff started going funny with dusty. i had no idea what a narcissist was–not really. nor that they preyed on people like me…people with too much empathy.
i had no idea.
i thought it was love.
just like i thought it was love that kept me with dusty no matter how much of a fuck he was to me.
i should publish these journals as a warning.

work in progress…

okay.
so i’m not done yet…but i am still working on it!
slowly slowly.
i really like it so far, which makes me all the more worried about fucking it up.
sigh.
but i am still working on it.

i have this idea that i would like every page to be able to stand on its own. so that is another challenge.

meanwhile, i guess the minions are off to wisconsin today. dusty was going to come here to stay for a few weeks instead of the minions leaving here. but just the anticipation of his being here was turning me into an ugly unbalanced madwoman. finally, yesterday, after learning of another lie he’d told me (regarding some mutual friends) i spun out & told him he could not stay here.
he wants to move closer & wants me to help him by letting him stay here & job hunt, etc.
which, in theory, makes sense.
but in practice will chip away at my soul.
it is difficult balancing my desire to help with my knowledge of how he likes to take advantage of my desire to help.
fuck!
so sucks.
but now instead of being angry & angry…i am just sad that i will not see my minions for a week.
and relieved that dusty is not going to be here.
so relieved!
it’s like he thinks we can be a happy family again, but he won’t stop being an abusive narcissist.
i no longer want to be a family with him…but i know there is no escaping his being my children’s father.

maybe that’s why i’m killing him off in my dystopian fantasy world….
ya think?

never fall again

never fall again

the last time we had sex
i could feel how much
you hated me
it oozed out of you
spat out of you
& froze my skin
burning me
the last time we had sex
i knew that you couldn’t
stop wanting me
but that you had forced yourself
to stop loving me
…needing me
the last time we had sex
you couldn’t get away
from me
fast enough
your touch was hostile
your eyes
empty.

never fall again. never feel that pain. that’s where my thoughts are these days. does he even remember me every valentine’s day? probably the fuck not. but here i am. broken-hearted.
always
broken-hearted.

maybe when i’m dead i will stop obsessing over him. or i will just go looking for him in my next life.

ack!
that’s one tattoo i leave out of every self-portrait. the tattoo i got for him…with him. the tattoo that hurt the most. and still hurts.
i think about getting it covered up…turned into something else.
maybe i would if i had some money.
so y’all should buy the book i illustrated so i have money to cover-up a tattoo that won’t let me forget where i left my heart.

fuck me.
we all know i’m never getting rid of this tattoo.