dirt verse

ok, Saturday was the day of my sister's bachelorette, this is the day I was struck at a discount store on the left side of my head, suddenly a stabbing pain nearly brought me to my knees, however, in one second I thought, if I allow myself to fully hit the floor, one of the shoppers will totally steel my purse, in this purse is cash meant for my sister, in this shopping cart, at least 45 minutes of carefully chosen merchandise, the store will put all this away, and I'll be on the floor, sprawled with my shirt over my head, no purse, precious shopping down the tubes, so I held tight to the cart handle, I quickly recovered, just enough to get to the register and out to my car, squinting the pain, trying to coax it out of my temple to the back of my head so I could at least drive home and complain and cry in my husband's arms. later, I notice that I have a waterfall deep inside, I thought at first it was euphoria, but it was quickly followed by a sick wave of nausea, I then re...

Perpetual light never mixes to serve a rainbow worth real sadness. Sadness has a light of it's own, buried within the marble of a thunderbolt. A statement I believe today for various reasons, one being the loss of control and tightness in my chest from knowing the earth spins beneath me whether I'm still or on my way to save her.

I receive each droplet. I know that I am in a spot I wish to leave, but my feet got stuck. God, will you assist me in that hole, look in on me from time to time as your lesser than, as your grown child? I know all this was before me, before me. Destiny being comfort, but so hard to eat. Heartache being it's lovely self, there to unravel and accept. I also know my mother is slipping away, and this causes me to bend in half and lapse into the mercy of that circumstance. And I know I have a way of getting back up. Because there is much to be done. terrible clouds await. I love that I'm alive to greet them.

I always knew you would kill me holding your tremble and your water with my hands they used to be your hands, your child they used to be sweet bread and 2nd grade did you ever take notice at the old woman I was becoming did you never see the dirt under my fingernails - dug deep into the earth to find answers you held back I always knew you would kill me because I kept looking into you tilting my head into space alone with you - but you never looked back I'm still digging this time with fists aged - wicked these are my hands now.

my whole and all and entire my worry my insides roped off theater style I am moving towards the end with you this is where I will wave good-bye to your precious face remembering every ounce you've ever dropped into my mouth like the winged female bird you are to your core even if it went insane that stretched linen you spread across my beak I'll remember everytime you clapped when I danced I only ever did that to make you laugh I promise eternal. that means: I will miss you, not like missing goes but void of you - honor in the most high

thoughts that weave themselves around me, making me spider food, or maybe just plain crazy. but anyway.... 1. hating Sundays has become passe 2. sugar helps when you are the mean type 3. sometimes Darth Vader sits outside my window 4. when nobody is watching, I break dance poorly 5. I watch Pulp Fiction much too frequently 6. I do not make plans on a regular basis 7. I love my mom. I prefer to make lists in increments of 7, it just feels right.

office: The traffic whips around her as she contemplates the swirl of cream in her coffee. People here pick their noses and proceed to touch others and their belongings. Through the door, down the hall, her socks fall around her ankles. Hi, she says to the woman with all the kids. She reaches for the warm chocolate down the front of her trousers, and knows this will all be over in just eight hours. At lunchtime she'll go to the park, she'll sit under the tree that ends in pitchfork and frayed nerves. And like a good, big girl, not sit on anything very dirty. She'll come back through the doors, pull her hat off, and sniff the air smell out of her hair. But what follows her? What is biting at her ankles? Buy better socks honey. tiles: A trip to the restroom turns into a shouting match between the air dryer option or paper towels. There's no way she's putting her hands under that dryer. By the time her fingers dry, it will be way past five and maybe the front door w...