antimatters

what does it matter
if i do what they want me to do
if i plan, shop and feed them food
if i get a perfunctory thank you sometimes
if the right words are said to make me respond
if i get online and play or if i don’t
if i skip a blog and stop writing anything down
if i make sure stuff gets done at the house
if i do everything that is expected
what does it matter

what does it matter
if i change my hair
if i change my weight, thinner, fatter, fatter still
if i stop creating
if i stop singing
if i stop trying to think of one thing in my life i am proud of for that fucking therapy list
if i realize i can’t write one thing down that is not soured, spoiled, rotten or ultimately fail
if i stop doing anything else
what does it matter

what does it matter
if i clean off all my personal stuff at work
if i dump all kinds of crap from the house
if i purge the pain of a now unused past life
if i pitch ill fitting clothes
if i trash stuff i don’t create with anymore
if i remove all traces i existed
if i just leave it all for them to deal with
what does it matter

what does it matter
if i cry for the life i lead
if i cry for the life i can’t lead
if i am stuck missing what i can’t have
if this ache in my body wears me down to my core
if despair never leaves even when i laugh
if i can make people think all is good by sucking it up and putting on a face
if all i think about is how i hate what i’ve done to myself, to my life
if no matter what i try, nothing really changes
if no hope is around me other than for fleeing moments left as reminders to torture me
if i cant stop crying at random times
what does it matter

what does it matter
if someone else takes my job over
if people stop guilting me into relationships
if i stop playing online games and reading books
if i stop doing anything else
if i just sit and look at a wall for hours
if i stop talking to people around me
if all there is left of me is nothing interesting
if people go on and leave me behind
what does it matter

what does it matter
if i drive my car into a garage
if i put down the garage door
if i leave the car on and roll down the windows
if i gun the engine and fill the car with exhaust
if i just sit there and wait for it all to finish
if i breathe in and out and sleep
if i pass from this sorry, frustration and fail
what does it matter

what does it matter
if i am gone
if life goes on
if others take my place
if others fill my shoes
if i fade into fleeting memories
if finally there is nothing left to remember
if it comes to the fact that it matters not in the long and short of it
it doesn’t matter.

will you burn what is left?
will you my scattered ashes in the strong prairie winds?
will you let my tempest of last emotion roar in your ears?
will you watch the gray flakes as they settle in the soil to nourish the tall grasses?
will you help me become something that matters?

antimatters

and again

on my mind
for days
it won’t let go

i am alone today
i can get this done
i can stop it from being in my head
needling me
scorning me
hounding me
plaguing me
mocking me
chanting
broken record of chants
it will NOT stop

i give in
i know i might as well
this is the only way
i get the blades from their new hiding place
i know the routine
i know the ritual
but bigger letters this time
covering more skin

FAT
UNWANTED
IGNORED
A BOTHER
NO ONE

now i have unmatched matching legs
and ten words
in fresh red marks
and old purple scabs and scars
labeling me
judging me
describing me
telling me who i am
mocking my attempts to be better
showing anyone who looks
what i am

daring someone to take notice.

calm
trance
no more voice

blade thrown away, hidden
smeared red skin
clots running down the shower drain
no traces
only a fiery hot leg
with exactly 100 cuts
how ironic, 100

and again

despair

Despair is a narcotic. It lulls the mind into indifference.  –Charlie Chaplin

Indifference.
The ache in my bones
The tears waiting in to spill down my cheeks
My unfocused eyes as I plod through a day
Fine. Go ahead, you got stuff to do.
Just leave me the fuck alone.

Don’t touch me.
Don’t worry, you don’t have to talk to me
or text me
or email me
or facebook me
or IM me

No worries.
I don’t care.

I know its a lot of trouble.
To ‘deal’ with me.
No worries, mon
It’s all good

You don’t have to
I am not asking you
To take time out of your day
To take time out of your life
To take time for asking me what’s up
To take time to check to see …

If I am still breathing.
No worries, really
I could give a flying fuck
Really its pretty much been status quo anyways.

Don’t want to trouble you.
No worries…..really.
It’s all good
It’s all fucking good.

despair

worth

what am i good for?
i pay the mortgage
i pay the electric
i pay the natural gas bill
i buy the food
i plan the meals
i cook the food
and after you load a few plates and scrub a pan and leave it to dry
i put away the dishes to start the food all over again
if i don’t cook, 9 times out of 10 i pay the bill at the restauruant
i show up at your company functions
i drive you there
i take all the pictures so we have records of our family
i feed the cats
i make sure the dogs are fed and watered when you forget
i make sure the house gets cleaned
i am the ultimate back up when something is wrong at school and pick up is needed
i pay if you want to go to a movie
if you want snacks at the movie, i pay for those too
if you decide to ask me on a whim or it is Sunday, i am ‘willing’ in bed (although not lately)
if it needs to be done, i notice it
if someone needs to do something, i am the reminder
if school fees and registration are needed, i do that
if you don’t want to do what I ask, you ignore me, hoping it will go away
if you don’t want to do what I ask, you ‘forget’
if you leave your laundry in mid cycle, i will finish it, fold it and all every blessed time
if you leave anything unfinished, cause you don’t time, i find the time to finish it for you

what am i to others?
someone to talk to when they are bored or not busy
someone to ask to do things for them
someone who has the means to get things done, either finanically or time wise
someone you can ignore when you do not have time to talk to me
someone you can look past when you see no need to talk to me
someone who you dislike enough to ruin any joy in my life
someone who works for you
someone who can get stuff done when you need it
someone is dependably there when you require something of me
someone who can play an expected role and nothing more
someone you may read a blog online if i remind you
someone who goes to church and listens and knows she is really not healthy enough to participate
someone you may respond to or not, for whatever reason
someone you might call or email or im or text, but most often you do not

who am i?
no one who gets asked how i am
no one who cries and cries and scares the dogs enough to hide when others aren’t around
no one who can slap on an acceptable face so that others don’t need to be bothered by her
no one who can tell her pain to in other than short small bits on the internet
no one who has only a paid therapist who slowly slices through her life bit by bit, dissecting it
no one who has sad eyes people look past
no one who seems to care about much anymore
no one who prays and can’t feel God and wonders what can be done about that anyway
no one who likes to keep cutting and cutting and cutting
no one who wants to fill her body with cut words of despair, hopelessness
no one who is old and fat and ugly and a nuisance to deal with, really
no one who want so really continue this path of life
no one

what

for what it’s worth

a rag doll, dropped and forgotten, under a rusted fender on an oil stained driveway
one muddy tire track decorated her back from right to left

“There you are,” the little monster said and grabbed the doll’s leg
“Hiding in plain sight I see,” as IT dragged the her behind it’s strides

the doll, face down, rubbed roughly against the concrete sidewalk
her dress above her head, her white underwear stained by a muddy puddle splash

“Gross, look at your underwear!” IT chided.
“You are never clean,” shaking ITs head in mock sadness

no one saw when a button eye, threads finally giving way,as it rolled to the grass
the doll’s one eye watched as her other slowly faded from sight

“Can’t you see what you have done to yourself?”
“Don’t you know how ugly you are? Gross!”

IT crossed a road, tangling the doll’s head with cigarette butts, bits of litter and sticky chewed gum
“I wish you would take better care of your hair,” flicking a glance of distaste in the her direction

IT cut across a lawn where the big dog lived and dragged her though a fresh pile
When IT climbed the chain link fence, the doll’s an arm caught at the top

“Hurry up, we are late!” yelled IT, tugging her leg roughly.
The doll’s arm ripped at the seam and dropped to the big dog’s lawn, a new chew toy for later

“Now look what you’ve done, well, it’s your own fault for flailing your arms that way.”
IT kept moving, grinding grass and mud into her tattered clothes as her stuffing guts trailed behind.

The monster stopped and looked at the beaten rag doll
With one motion, shot a great arc, deposited it in the dumpster

“Two points!” IT cheered and walked on, “See, loser, you really don’t care about yourself, freak”
The rag doll looked up at a cloud passing, as it waited on top of plastic bags of rotten food

wondering what stink would bury her soon
to cover her shame

for what it's worth

what IT is

“you know I am right
I will win,” IT speaks softly in my head
like a secret from a child…or love whispers

“I am your personal acid bath
peeling away layer after layer of skin
making your bones white as snow as I bubble happily

“I am piranhas biting your flesh
schooling you in your failures
as you dissolve, skeleton resting on the soft Amazon river bottom.

“I am the black crows, waiting for a car to pass
swooping down to your flattened carcass of a life
pulling pieces of you to devour slowly

“I am the tornado
picking up your lifeless body
broken, arms and legs jutting at weird angles, tossing you into a corn field

“I am the quiet skittering black widow
patiently navigating your tennis shoe strings
just a little love bite, dear, it won’t last long.

“I am darkness in an underground cave
wedging your body tighter into a crevice
no water, no light, not hope of rescue

“I am your truth and destruction
your failure cheerleader
I will win, loser.”

IT slithers away while I watch
knowing another visit, another psychological beating
will happen again…and soon

reconsidered

awash in thoughts that stick like honey to my skin
oozing into my eyes and mouth,
the taste bitter and certain

treading in the open lake,
no salt to buoy me,
arms waiving back and forth farewell in the dark night water

i look at the moon, full and hopeful with tired eyes
aching body, panting breath
pounding, saturated mind

below is an endless deep chasm lake
carved in ancient times and filled to the brim
glacier run-off ready to swallow dead lake creatures, lures and anchors

waiting for me to cramp and sink to its ink depths of oblivion.

“why swim? you’ll never make it to shore,” IT says
“your arms are lead, you’ve been treading too long
“even floating is an effort. it’s over, just stop and come with me.”

i turn on my side to try moving away,
feeling its silken fins brush my legs and arms with fatigue.
scissor kicking, I cut at IT,  to glide back, tracing my path to shore

each stroke accompanied by images of
mutual laughter around a dinner table
holding hands, arms swinging while walking in the woods
laying in a field, looking up at the sky, warm breeze on my cheeks and nose

IT whispers about tears
about betrayal and indifference
about arguments, unreached goals and failures

thankful the water in my ears muffles

the snide, jeering remarks and finger pointing.
My hand finally touches bottom and I stand up.

walking slowly through the molasses depths
from hip to thigh to calf to ankle
the rest of the way to the shore

reconsidered