no, you’re emo….

my heart is cold
& smells 
of rotting flesh
the turkey vultures
circle
sensing
my surrender
my heart is cold
& black
with defeat
it feels like a stone
in my chest
pulling me 
down
as i 
fall.

how was your mother’s day? 
why the fuck can’t i not sink into a terrible place on this day of mothers?
let’s not think too hard about it. let’s just have a drink and wait for the day to end.
i know it’s a hallmark holiday. i know it’s petty…but i can’t help but want to set fire to the father of my children and watch the burnt flesh fall off of him when i think about all he had to do was help the kids make me something/buy me something…some token…some little fucking whisper to say i am valued.
but no. impossible. totally impossible. even in this day & age where he likes to pretend he was baptized by dr. phil.
i know that on father’s day i will buy a rosemary plant (because he loves rosemary plants & killed the last one he stole from me) & put a ribbon on it & have the kids make cards & give it to him as if it were their idea….
and i imagine again the warmth that would come off of his flaming body….

i really don’t know if my kids value me or not. i really don’t. and maybe that’s another one of my shortcomings. another one of my flaws. maybe i fucked it all up. i mean, the two oldest are sixteen & fourteen and they can’t even be bothered to bring me something to plant? even after i told them where to go for it?

but i do like to pretend one day they will grow me a pot of marigolds and maybe bake a chocolate cake and say, “hey, thanks for being a good mom. thanks for sacrificing everything for us. we value you.”

ps. my kids did go & get me flowers to plant on the day after mother’s day…of course by then my mental collapse was complete.
my poor children.

melancholy baby

melancholy lives in my heart…
melancholy…that’s what i used to call my melon-colored collie.
my cat named “maud” got tagged “maudlin.”
“do you know what that means?” my first ex-husband would ask in his soft drawl
as if he could not fathom my knowingly calling my pets by my darker emotions….
maybe he did not realize
melancholy lives in my heart.
maudlin is a friend of mine.
those so-called darker emotions sometimes light my way.

more journal entries from my adventure in a free-falling spin out that triggered me to start writing in prose rather than free verse. i did not see that coming. i’m not sure if it is a good sign or a bad one.

ps. speaking of prose. i am working on releasing a collection of flash fiction & short stories. here is the cover in progress for my book coming out this year, tangled together.

the progress of this book may very well be a contributing factor to my spin out.
i’m not very good at handling good news….

whisper campaign

i was getting a little too friendly with the world, you see. too butterflies & rainbows.
it made some cracked wheels turn inside me as my tragically introverted self,
my dark & morbid self, my inner brooding monster whispered in my ear,
“they all hate you; you’re such a cunt. why do you even bother?
go home. go to bed. hide in a book or better yet a tv show…just. hide.”
& i found my delight in my self-loathing. poking that bruise on my soul
as i covered all of the mirrors and windows and told myself,
“it’s okay. you’re happier when you’re alone.”

true story. this happens to me sometimes. i sometimes cannot handle being happy & friendly and stable-ish. i cannot handle being likable or successful in any way. it stirs up my demons and terrible things are said until i sink back into a gloom they are more comfortable with.

no matter

the world feels void of magic & nothing seems to
matter & i am fairly certain i am doing everything
wrong. motherhood is an experiment in futility; my
manifesto a blank page forever unread. i let the
darkness envelop me knowing it won’t be forever. i
watch the pieces of my soul fly from tree to tree &
part of me wishes all of me were crows on the wind
but then i remind myself, “i still have work to do.”

okay. so at this point i have spun out to the degree that i am no longer thinking in free verse but more in a prose style. string of consciousness as social anxiety and motherhood and depression and lonely and self-loathing wrap me up in a blanket and toss me down the stairs.
watch me fly.

shades of gray

i can’t shake the feeling
i’ve done something
wrong
the sinking sensation
that everyone
rightfully
thinks i’m an asshole.

more social anxiety. i went to a get-together a couple of weeks ago and left it feeling this way. i think i was picking up on someone else’s feelings that had nothing to do with me. that happens to me more than i like.
so someone felt overwhelmed or whatever, i picked up on it, and felt like it was my fault.
a spin-out that had already begun, was escalated by this one small event.
being me is fun like that….

my shadowing got out of control as i was inking the illustration so i was just like “fuck it” and colored it all gray making it look kinda like a fallen statue…i guess that works.

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