I Am Losing The Plot

Treated like a rose as an orchid- Alanis.

[havingapoemwithyou]

After twelve days of rain by Dorianne Laux

[spit-out-the-dust]

I have these moments where I realize I’ve never truly connected to anyone in my life. Maybe at one point when I was sixteen. For a brief moment. Those years are so taken over by dust that never settles that it’s as though they didn’t happen. I guess you can say I’m close to my daughter but even that has barriers and boundaries because she doesn’t deserve my demons.

I hope, genuinely, when I’m mid forty’s and she’s off figuring out adulthood and her life is the very essence of everything mine never was. I hope she sees that sacrifice and that no matter what she remembers these nights that I hope she never endures

So that when I’m finally alone and gone from this place she doesn’t try to talk me out of it but rather understands this is what I wanted all along but the timing was never right because she deserved so much more than what I could just provide … alone.

And hopefully karma allows me one good thing in this life and that’s simply that her life isn’t fucked up.

Because if this was all for nothing. I’m not sure I’ll ever recover — although my entire life has been recovering. Surviving.

That will be my end.

[spit-out-the-dust]

Happy Father’s Day to the man who left me before I was even born.

The man who thought coming to my events hidden somehow made you a decent person.

Who only wanted contact with my shitty mother. Never me.

Happy Father’s Day to a man who hurt me so bad I can’t even remember it all. The sick fuck who hurt the innocence of my siblings. Good job. They both turned into some piece of you.

Happy Father’s Day to the man who truly broke me though. The man I thought for once…. This is it. The example needed. This whole time I waited for something to fill a void and for what? To find out you helped take out my sisters innocence.

How about happy Father’s Day to the father to both my children. Who picked his demons first. Who still continues to not be what either of them deserve.

Nah— all Father’s Day reminds me of is men are weak. They’re completely useless. ✌🏼 I got this without you, like I have since day one.

[spit-out-the-dust]

“I’d damn every last soul to stay by your side…”

[terrorignitis]

Juansen Dizon, i am the architect of my own destruction

[spit-out-the-dust]

Well hello you lovely antique mirror 🫶🏼

[thoughtkick]

“Hope can be a powerful force. Maybe there’s no actual magic in it, but when you know what you hope for most and hold it like a light within you, you can make things happen, almost like magic.”

— Laini Taylor, Daughter of Smoke & Bone

[paper-wounds]

[spit-out-the-dust]

I treat love as an orgasm.

Something I’ve never truly allowed myself to feel — a show of sorts to put on because it’s safer when no one can let you down.

[spit-out-the-dust]

I was going to post on your Facebook as though you could read it anymore because I’ve been so lonely. I realized none of our pictures are even on there and truthfully I think it was a false sense of the past that overtook me into thinking I ever truly had anyone who ever cared for me as much as I’ve done everyone else.

And it’s not about self pity. It’s just a realization that you can be so utterly broken that no one wants the pieces.

[spit-out-the-dust]

I had a dream I turned into a bird and for a fleeting moment I felt free.

Until I hit a plane.

And that’s how life is.

[spit-out-the-dust]

[spit-out-the-dust]

I’ve often found myself wanting to write about my life in lines of poetry. As though maybe in my darkest moments I can bring about some beautiful deep news that transforms into something that can be used in the light. As though the fact I’m always alone inside is merely a figment of my mind — and if maybe I were just to put it down on paper it helps with perspective and maybe somewhere in those lines I can find it’s not true.

That I’m not alone, not fully.

But life is not meant to rhyme.

And reality is people merely pretend they aren’t afraid of the dark but truth is most are. Because those who aren’t will roll their sleeves up and dive head first in — most enjoy the chaos amongst the sheep. It’s easier. Life bubbles are more comfortable. People would rather bounce around in stupidity than wake up to the truth because when faced with the truth you cannot lie still. You must move. You must do something.

Because waking up to the truth means you’d be opening your eyes to nothing but blackness. As though you were blind, until your eyes can adjust. But that takes too much time and people cannot stand the few minutes in between that moment where they realize their breathing is off and the tingles start — they run back.

So alone I’ll stay. Inside the caves of my mind, wondering if I can ever write a catchy poem that will capture people’s attentions so maybe they’ll come down here and sit with me in these pits where we fight for those who truly cannot fight for themselves. Where we take down evil and corruption.

Where we actually do something besides post social media statuses or raise our big post it notes atop our heads screaming at crowds of people as though that accomplishes anything.

I’m waiting. The children are waiting.

The darkness is waiting.

[spit-out-the-dust]

I believe there are only two types of women in the world.

Those who would have been burned at the stake in 1692 and those who would have helped condemn them.

[spit-out-the-dust]

I just asked this six year old who she belongs to and she straight up said “myself”

This. 🫶🏼👏🏼

[spit-out-the-dust]

If you can sit with yourself in the quiet moments you have mastered more than most.

[remanence-of-love]

[spit-out-the-dust]

This is beautiful because often times we feel we need someone …. But feelings are fickle and the mirror works wonders.

[spit-out-the-dust]

Some day it all just clicks.

I am not even sure what to label the click— I guess it’s different for different people.

The click that happens the moment you realize you’re in the wrong room and you leave suddenly.

The click that happens when the idea finally comes to you in the middle of a conversation and that idea shapes your entire future.

The click that moment you look at someone and know “so this is love”

For me— the clicks have been those moments as though I’m in a dream or a daze and I snap back I to reality to find that no matter what life goes on. You’ll be okay. You can get through hard things.

And that everything truly does happen for a fucking reason.

Click.