another page

neurosis
or
poetry…
memoir
or
exorcism?

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shhhh…don’t tell

i’m still obsessing about…erm…
i mean
exorcising demons…
or rather
writing a memoir
over on tumblr…..

heavy

when someone close to you
dies
it becomes part of your description
she has brown hair
a nice smile
and her brother is dead

birthdays are the hardest
his last one
I didn’t know
it was the last
his voice sad on the telephone
my pledge to keep in touch
this time

we live in a world
where I can obsessively search for
intimate details of his death
available in short video
burning plane
gray matter splattered on a playground
his last words, “oh, fuck.”

notorious IT guy for the other side
the Forrest Gump of stolen elections
everything reminds me
of him
the sound of a single engine plane
sad songs on the radio
politics, Christmastime, and charismatic men

I drink Irish whiskey this time of year
but it was Scotch at his wake
four years now
four years since the last election
four years since the plane crash
a conspiracy theorist’s wet dream
murder Republican style

when someone close to you
dies
do you let it redefine you?
hello, I’m Connell
a mama, a student, an artist
let me tell you
about my dead brother

(written in 2012)

destroyed

i hate feeling like this
every year
since he has died
i hate it
i never knew
this level of hopelessness
with all the bad stuff
toppling
the way it
does

i hate feeling like this
every year
since he betrayed me
i hate it
i never knew
this level of hopelessness
with all the bad stuff
toppling
like it
does

my brother’s death
my ex-husband’s birthday
one day
that destroys me
every goddamned
year.

i used to joke that dusty and i would never be able to survive if we had to depend on each other in a time of crisis.

then my brother died
on dusty’s birthday
& i don’t think he ever forgave me for it.

i decided to divorce dusty the day of the funeral.
never had i ever seen a complete lack of empathy in a person
as i did that day
dusty intentionally hurt me as my brother’s coffin lay before us.

of course,
anyone who knows this story knows
i did not get rid of dusty for another eight years after my brother’s death
meanwhile dusty played me like a fucked up fiddle, even convincing me that it was my fault he was cheating on me…right in front of me….

sigh.

all this pain surfaces now.
this time of year.
my dead brother
my narcissistic & sadistic ex….

i lay awake at night & count my scars.

the color of my tears

the color of my tears
is the color of my eyes
some muted mix
of blue & green
that falls freely from my eyes

i get my brother’s birthday & his death day
mixed up in my head
he was born…
three weeks (& 45 years later)
he died
the last i spoke to him
was his birthday
so it is the last i remember of him
from the end of november
to almost christmas
it all blends together.
the end of him
& every time i see 12:19 on a clock
i forget that it is the birthday
of my children’s father
& only remember
it as my brother’s death
day.

loss…lost

i was breastfeeding
my second son
when i got the call
that my big brother
was dead
…plane crash
he crashed his plane
i’d just gotten his christmas newsletter
“keep christ
in christmas”
& his devastation
over the election of obama
to the presidency…
i had been making fun of him
to one of my liberal sisters
earlier that evening…
just around the time
his plane crashed into an ohio suburb

i usually start my pages with words & finish with a drawing. this one i drew first, and then the words came.
tomorrow is my big brother’s birthday. he would have been 54. he died 9 years ago.

the worst thing

what’s the worst thing
you can do
to the girl
who is full of anxiety
constantly looking to her worst-case-scenario
the girl with the abandonment
escapism
issues?
you.
her diabetic boyfriend
her diabetic fiance
the love of her life
you know what you could do?
you could go into insulin shock
once a week–at least
you could do that while you’re driving
even
crash your truck into a utility pole
& laugh it off
leaving her desperate
& terrified
you could do that
while never-ever realizing
never-ever admitting
that you are hurting her.

you were happy to let me take the blame
when our world fell apart.

this one. the one i should be over by now. but–you know–stuff it all down deep enough & you won’t have to deal with it. just keep piling more crap on top of it.
except…it seeps out. and i end up sending him psychotic communications. desperate pleas for forgiveness. and he just plays me like a game as usual.
i did awful things in that relationship. things out of my character. things i have never done to anyone else. and all i can do is blame myself…but what if i did it because i was so scared he was going to die on me?
i was sure i would come home & find him dead. so many times i came home to find him convulsing in insulin shock. what happens the one time i don’t make it home in time?

me.
a girl terrified of death. a girl terrified of being alone. a girl who would shut down rather than risk feeling for a creature that might die on her….

fuck the fuck.

it hurts so much to let this surface. i guess that’s good?  i mean–is healing supposed to hurt this much?