dirt verse

tonight realized again, because sometimes I actually forget, and fool myself into thinking I am worth something, when I'm not, even though I am on a better path, I self-destruct again and again with only a few words, in only minutes, I am back to the nothing and dirt i've always been and will ever be, that is the truth that pulls me back by ponytail hair. and this is the only thing in my heart tonight.

this is my 50th blog entry, and I must say, I simply adore big, nice round numbers, and now, I will go off to bed and stare at my husband for hours life is a sweet bitch at times.

were a tree bending over, accepting of high winds, with my beautiful willow branches scratching the ground, never asleep, always alive in the way dirt is if I could sleep without something to swallow, if my head would just let me go

now I'm scared that if I actually leave, I'll never come home again, I'm going to make a list of what I need to do today and tomorrow just to function, first by getting off this fucking computer, out of control again, heads up

I was going to call my friend today, one of my new friends, but then I realized how hateful I would be if I actually got to speak to her. I am feeling an ugliness that can kill a person slowly or maybe I had to much coffee, but still

now that I'm done, I'm in the middle, and sick of being with myself the way myself used to be about 6 months ago I can feel it sucking me from the jaw down to my feet, across my chest, rotting my hands, stealing the gloss away from what is outside my door the truth is I am afraid of life, as boring as that sounds, afraid of conversations that lead to questions- I have idea what to even say anymore numb effects of one trying to become what one clearly is not loser again, is it ok to do that

for the first time in years, she is cooking every single meal, she is packing lunch for spouse, she is making coffee at 6am, only having slept maybe 2 hrs, she is wearing a bra, she is putting clothes in their spots, she is going to grocery, she is sweeping up strange lint from floor, there is fruit and bleached surfaces, there are fresh flowers, the trash is not haphazard, the bed is made, the bed is made, the bed is made. there is peace for now

just so you'll know, I'm using those dish towels you embroidered for me, the days of the week, little hens holding baskets, a rooster rocking out with a guitar for Tuesday, today is Tuesday, so. the last conversation we ever had, I was calling you to say thank you for the wedding gift, I said that the towels were much to pretty to actually use, so I put them away, but now that you are gone, I am making good use of them, today is Tuesday, I miss you.

that - when I set down a lid or plate, or anything that is round, it just spins and spins for minutes on a flat surface, and when I go to stop it, my hand only vibrates to the beat, and this won't stop maybe - that is the order of things, disorder *I remember that for some reason my mother let me live outside our home for days and weeks on end across town with a wild girlfriend, watching me spin until I just came home.