mom
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My Morning After Pill
Sitting on the floor Staring out the window Wiping off the polish Lost in a trance Listening to GaGa Post Superbowl Acetone morning Child on her left Controllers and LeBron Has no clue mama’s gone Looking straight ahead She listens and nods One say he’ll remember Mama in her towel Singing Painting Dancing Her portable… Continue reading
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Still Not Sober
For those who read my last post, as I expected, I failed in my attempt to stay sober. I am not sure I can do this. When it rains it pours. My family is toxic. Something I have known most of my life. After having to drag my 2 kids out of my moms house… Continue reading
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Remember Me
She was phenomenal in every way, Yet unsure of how to accept a compliment. Her beauty was captivating. However, her shame blinded her from seeing her true reflection. She wrestled with her obsession to scrub and organize her surroundings, Always in an attempt to face her own neurosis. Her thoughts are what killed her, you… Continue reading
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Paralyzed
She, the beautful one, is twenty-two years young. She has so much to say, But fears she’ll come undone. What if the words coming make no sense? Maybe no one is listening. Seems she only has fragmented thoughts, Often not ever making it onto the page. Just better to remain silenced, she thinks. At 22,… Continue reading
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Fatherless? Just Tell Me The Truth.
As a young girl, she pondered her purpose. Questioned the tragic event of her birth. Where did her dad go? To be exact, he was at the bar when she fell from her mother’s womb. One year later, he left and never returned. She has always been grieved by his absence, but never angry. Not… Continue reading
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Fade To Black
Birth. My first trauma. An uncontrollable tragedy. The first of thousands. A tiny snowball at the top of Kilimanjaro. Gathering catastrophe upon descent. A collision. A vacancy. Raised by fear. Noises. My mother’s sheets. Brown and orange stripes. Fiona Apple… Criminal. Stains on my homework. Coffee this time. Maybe Red Wine. Let’s drive to the… Continue reading
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Tell Me I Can Stay
Who says I can’t. Who says I have to write “can not” instead of “can’t” to be a good writer. I do. I say. I say I can write it that way and I say I can live that way. I don’t say it as much as I think it. I can’t do this anymore.… Continue reading
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Chelsey
September 19th. I remember this day every year as it approaches as much as I would like to forget. Bittersweet remnants of my journey from an innocent child to a bruised adult pass through my already rattled brain. It is the birthday of my closest childhood friend, Chelsey. Although she was not the cause… Continue reading
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Burying Myself Alive
You know you are an alcoholic when you cough with the simultaneous pull of the tab or twist of the cap to cover the sound. Opening a beer can be intensely stressful when doing it in secret. Well, you think it’s a secret anyway. Who am I fooling? I suppose that would fall under the… Continue reading
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A Meth Pipe For My Birthday
My mom gave me a meth pipe for my birthday. Sounds crazy doesn’t it? If you knew the dynamic between us, this type of correspondence would spur no surprise. Strip away all the preconceived ideas, the truth about me, the truth about her, what our relationship was before and is now, and just picture… Continue reading