Walking My Truths

Asymmetry

One of the things that I wonder
Is why I have to be like you
Do we have to think the same
Or see the stardust just the same?

If you think the best of love
Is looking back and a shrug
Must I define it the same
Can my own perspectives remain?

When you read or gather your facts
To rational conclusions and plan of attacks
My sense of knowing who to see
Scatters and brakes, can you know me?

Things don't last, it is defined by change
Though the law says nothing is lost
You say nothing remains
There's another person, better soil

You see the waves I'm looking on shore
It doesn't matter, it's not for a score
Clever responses or better kinds of notions
Won't affect in anyway these particular devotions

On a ballad of a night without a tomorrow
You planned a farewell before 'the sorrow'
Can take away any felt pain
For as some say, no two ever the same?

One of the things that you wonder
Is why you have to be like me
Do we have to think the same
Or see the stardust just the same?



Doubt

Fills the hallways of a critical mind
It's windows get broken
The doors fall off frames
A place often missing the finish and fame.

In the house built of questions
There isn't a roof
The foundation might crumble
And sag with uncertainty, standing in flames.

Into the rooms you reluctantly
Sit in furniture left by ages of tenants
Ill fitting and moldy, grossly rather
Familiar and yet unfriendly

It creeks in the night in the
House of your doubting, and cobwebs
In corners practically shout that
The only certainty known

Is that this house doesn't feel
Quite like your old home
But it carries the past to bruise the future
Decay and deception make terrible mirrors

The house of the mind that
Questions and measures, realizes
It needs to polish and seek errors
Renovate, demolish, gut the interior

Bulldozers shatter the central
Core, to honor the concept of something is more
Built on doubting that everything made
Must be left ever standing, no permanence is laid.



Who do I know and where or why

It might happen that left to seek
Help in the world, needing shelter, and a way,
That there would be someone that found clothes
And gave space in a warm bed,
To you just because you came to the door and asked.

In a place of lovely colors and arabic decorations
With gifts of a gilt peacock, scarves
Trinkets, as if they knew your tastes
In what felt safe and was somehow good,
Things to place on the dresser and bureau
And into the tidy drawers, were given.

So that you are now newly healthfully clothed
And held without fearing warmly
Invited into the comfort of strong arms
Just feeling that this is your wakening
Another need to run is gone

In this corridor of calming, being
I walked this morning and felt it sweet burning
You didn't allow me to choose
The pants in lime green
Saying I had to have new clothes but there was no way that shade
(It was as if offensive to you)

A cultivation came into that moment
Kindness, concern, you are seen in your needs
In a place that was wood and cushions, curried
A kind of happy hope of sunny break
settled into the morning.

You wander in a dream, run, scurry
Into the day's life. Who were you there, hope holder?
Able to be so generous with time
space
The gifts of a sense of belonging?



A Mother Calls Us

To our table we are called for dinner
The evening coming and chill winds bringing
To the plain a sense of day broken into dust.

It's food for thinking we are poking
With forks of silver
It's pallitable but not delicious lacking something

Maybe it is the loss of the hunt, or thoughts
Or simply too much processing this wrapped carnage of synthetic
Groced psuedo holistic greener we munch now.

Our ability to talk over the repast has elements
Of the rush to technological connection
Some have brought their phones and devices or run mind vacuums

It intrudes into mothers garden home ideal
She is worrying of passing and sharing with one another
Her bounty apparent, but no one listens or notices the other

Some go hungry, some were not
Dressed enough or strong enough to secure a place setting here
Or lacked a way to compensate for her delights.

Come in to eat, she says, it's going to chill
The winds blew into the table the hunger
We all felt for the comfort of mothers meal.




Mom

Whenever you try to cook
clean, sweep a floor
she crowdes into the space with a body block
Or a but and takes over the task or makes
You drop or lose your concentration
Interrupting your
Doing
just the most simple of things in your home.

If you want to move to the refrigerator with a box
of leftover, you will trip over her
As she insists on the space and
Blocks with arm to the side you
Push
Moving there.

If you are sweeping the floor
Trying to feel the grace of the stroke across the tiles and
the pleasure
of gathering the crumbs
She is in the way blocking the trashcan or getting into
The places you wish to comb with brush

It is a thing in 80 plus years she
Could do
Just to take from you
the feeling of an ability to just do a task
with ease

If speaking she will change the subject or interrupt
Or throw a loud and obnoxious challenge
Or say asshole so that
You are taken with the vulgarity
Mom?

And this is just how it really
Goes by as you
Try to find the days paces and places
Smooth corners be water
Doing what needs to be done


A terrier mother that
Isn't about to contemplate her
Actions
Barks, snarles or in the
Sense of agitation and tension
It is just the way of this mom
Who is defining her doing
By undoing you a bit.


Potato ChipsThe best potato chips are large thin crunchy
Popped fresh from the brown bag at the lunch hour
From the steak subshop while the sandwiches come out in thick
Sub rolls, they are listening while we talk about
The amazing new work they hung today up on 45th in the galleries
The ones we aren't really seeing we work in a barrio, okay?
Ripe with running red forms that puckered our mouths into
The dripping juices of tuna and chili steak
Lamenting the time that it takes to turn into form
The ideas of bolder and blusher canvas to reveal the secrets of these times
Infidelities of the crunching lick of tongue touching the tip of the chip
Speaking to a dill about where to go after we finish in a run before work
To see the latest persimmon that hangs downtown, and swallow this down.
And go be ordinary workers again.





The Christmas Cactus Bloomed on Your Birthday Babe

Things outside my control again
Brought me to notice my Christmas cactus
Is blooming on the day you were brought
To the earth to bless us
With all that you are.

In this I see the beauty of both of us
The possibility of my growing one that blooms like this, never before
The possibility you will just see it as lovely.
Not ever in a lifetime
Has this happened for me, it bloomed!

It is the sweetest of treats to see
Let me try to describe it to you , it is like the
Tissue of a scarlet wing, it has jagged edges
And it is big and bold jutting into my living
Blushed from the phoenix

On the flat green segments that say
To me their desert mysteries
This blossom came to the sink.
A Christmas cactus was named I think for the season
That they once forced the blooms to market

Coral Passion Red and garden green for your birthday
We are intertwined in the color of this only
Peculiar brilliant event.
I know this is not the thing you might have wanted

A poem with the day, you do not want it
To consider, nor is it a sign to me of anything miraculous
But I see the flower
that marks your day as blessing.

(I sit in my kitchen looking
By the sink where I wash my own dishes tonight
And look out to my birds at the feeder
By the Buddha, I light up in pllastic reminder of my own birthday past.)

A new set ( incomplete)

You said nothing
When the whirl of critics mouth
Busted holes in heart
Blood running through that park
My way by the gasoline station
You said nothing

When the applesauce jar boiled
Over the rim sliding down
Laughing at my burning hands
The ruined floors
You said nothing
(after looking on)

The marks of inelegant
Rejection in words
Unsmithed it lay open
Crows cawing the
Ever darkening accusations
You said nothing

Clouded by this
Pursuit of
Just attitude or moorings
I accepted nothing
To be said

While silent
The dew dried
Cerebral fog lifted
The one that spoke
Appeared.

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Would I Be The Same?

If

We could but give you a day of our lives
You would live to see the dawning of another century
Those you leave this day, who cannot give you life now.


If

We could reach round our arms would hold you here
As we hug to the gift of our life, where we can, if we will
Sending you away this day, gone

If

I could find any words, any meanings, any ways, any
But I sit thinking of a day you took my hand
Saying that you were glad I was back when I'd missed two weeks ill.

If

I sit very quietly and look inside my heart here mourning
I find you there a little bit of your time here, a goodness in you so indelible
Making a gingerbread house of cookies and dripping icing.

If

I could take your place I really would, many of us would
You were so brave little one in your days, every one, where none took your shoes
You call to us to make a better day, to work to better days

To see you in our actions of today, I honor you here child.

Pieces of Eight Cut in Half With a Dull Knife

Bridge

I lie suspended
Disbelieving
Willing myself
To Balance.




Mocking Birds

can't get you

so they fly around your head
Looking at your bald spot
and nose hair

saying

"hey bald spot, hey nose hair
you looking bad"

it gets you

the mockers eyes
are really sharp tuned
to what you sound like
in the shower

keeps em flying
thats for sure

you never hear their notes
not out loud

a mocker is a
self that's mute


Voodoo Doll

If you stick in
Any more pins
To the heart, head, or hands
My mojo is going
To spill all over



Rubber Balls

Aim them high
Rebound traction
Give your balls
A lot of Action

Fling them high
Watch em go
Sling your rubber
Go with your flow.


"I'd Rather See You Dead,
Than With Another Man"
in reply

Sure

You might get that wish
She said dramatically
Penning her goodbye
Baking up actually
a lemon meringue
And folding the wash
again

And here's another
"and" for you too.
I like them
along with this

It's flu season
I could die
And I woke up at 5
Dreaming of an exploding computer

It was signaling
a countdown to
implosion
Way too hot to move

Going to blow me to bits
You too I think
With another man
No that was me
Let's not get too weird here ok

Making bacon bit sandwiches
Escarole salads out of
bread and
Vienna sausage cans

Watching some ham
On the TV mock his life

So you'd rather not
see me
we'd
be better off dead
Be dead over see me
it's a thought

opps wait, got to tell
The gasman
I'm out of checks
Which is another lie
The money is gone anyway

Who needs gas
I could just put my head
In the Easy Bake oven
burn the skin
on my forehead

Would you count that
As dead?
Dead enough.
A deal breaker

Especially since a year ago
you dragged me out to
Death Valley in the
Trunk of your bike
And buried any miracles.

So you are a better husband now.
You say.

I'd rather you crawl out of
My corpse
Than listen to this
You know.

Pink Aquarium, Rain, Love

The aquarium I keep for my 1st graders is pink.
It kind of matters to them with frogs, fish
hey, it's cool.
We have a plecostomus that has grown four inches
He's so big.
Over the winter break someone turned off the power
for two days to the filters, so that they burned out in coming back on,
This is exciting to explain but you have to feed water
Into them starting them up.
They were probably doing some electric check in my room on the
Computers that don't work and so now the few fish left alive are dying.
Or maybe someone just decided to kill my tank.

Try thinking about that the night before school starts.

I'm a teacher, not a savior and so they are just dead.


It's raining outside and it's late and I'm sitting here
Covered with fish water, as I bleakly in vain tried changing the water.
So it's not working.

I'm listening to the rain...drip. Pouring now.

I have no meter.
I'm out of rhyme.
My smile is not good.
And I'm in love with a mime.

Actually I'm in love with a shadow.
Who would probably find this humorous if only for the
Fish germs that I splashed all over myself
And I used words not allowed in school finding this
Wreck of the 1st grade hindenberger.
And then topping that off I'm watching them die.

Were you ever in love with someone?
Someone that was "unattainable" ? And perhaps
A bit of the problem was also that it reminded you of all the other screw up
things in your rather impressive list of screw ups in your life?

Rain reminds me of a funny story. Not about fish.
I used to walk in my hometown. Long
Impressive distances. Like 15 miles to the mall. I had no car
And maybe I walked out of need to move.
I walked to the mall at least 15 miles away but it began to pour and I missed the last bus.
I had no money but the drivers knew me, just missed it.
So I walked. Had to cut over a huge hill and through an area of fields.
In West Virginia, Morgantown, think
Major fields.

I got in thick mud. Which was hard. I was littler then.
My foot went in and the mud took my shoe. It sucked my shoe away. No fishing it out.
So I walked with a bare foot through the rain another, umm ten miles home.
No one noticed at home. It was about 45 degrees. I got sick later from it.
That feeling is how I feel about telling the kids about this tank.
And how it feels this happened.
And how it feels, my love , to know

You are there but I can never know where.
It's raining and I'm headed out.

I

Waiting for Mrs Goodbar

She loved them you know, Goodbars
And fudge and salt water taffy.
And right now I'm sitting watching her breathe.
She gave me my life.
And she has been my responsibility for a very long time.
She's afraid and sometimes then she hears people in her mind.
They aren't nice to her and I don't believe her.
For that she cannot forgive me,
she tells me that someone is doing this to her.
And she gets agitated, angry, bitter.
Sudden turns of destructive fury. It's hard to wade.. I've never seen her sit in a chair in our homes except briefly to eat or Outside to smoke on the wall.
She doesn't sit still.
She is birdlike really. And she relates to birds.
Always watches them, and she cooks such nice butter food.
I think she's having a major stroke.Yeah right now.
I have a few tears here to clear as I pass my night
But she is curled in this bed, waiting a little bit
And I'm held by a mind that isn't rational.
Maybe I'm talking of myself,
we both seem to have left here and now a long time ago
Because she can get so agitated if you do what she refuses
I'm sitting when we should be going.
And I'm watching her as I watched her mom with Altzheimers manys the night,
but especially when it got to be the nights that might end her days.
sitting like an incompetent nothing
For a little second awhile ago I thought that I'd swallowed my own heart and soul.

But I saw my kids and got a hold on that and shoved it down into my tummy.

My Momma is having another stroke.
And I'm waiting to do my job to make this night, just keep us going.
If I could just give her my life I would.

Random Emo-Poems

Kidney Stones

Aren't brilliant like diamonds
You don't wish or worry with them
Like pocket stones,
They don't blaze a sapphire star
Or reflect the moon's glow.
These stones are unable to
Build a wall.
Or be mined from a quarry
Michelangelo cannot choose one
To look deep inside to find the David.
They are unworthy of a verse.

No, the kidney stone that's tearing me apart
Is a flake, minuscule, cowardly.
Worthless as anything
But an agent of torture.
Dust from a heartless god
That on waking tossed this at you
Reminder of your impertinence
The insignificance of you.
Irritant in a cosmic shoe,
Felled by a speck humorously called
A "stone."


Ode To Joy

I haven't talked to my brother in a year
And it doesn't feel so painful or sad.
Well no more painful or sad than how it was,
Nor does it feel particularly depressing.
Not to hear from someone (who knows you are in a hospital),
Or felled by illness. This seems my normal kind of relationship
This a brother that I tried to silently support for 40 years.
It actually feels like I've been tossed away
Like a used tissue or a peanut shell.

When I set a limit on the funds I could send
And couldn't accept the blame anymore
For the things 40 years old I had no control over,
Couldn't find ways to hold and hear his angers
Or agree with the justifications
For self destruction as revenge in "our case".
He apparently decided that I'm not worth his time
(My father concluding the same in my teens.)

It seems that the movie has ended.
Then you just walk out in the light
Disoriented.


Chelsea Mourning

We had a fight because I didn't care anymore
felled by pain and bloody urine

Because I wanted to be talked to directly
See if I'd be cared for, laughed at, taunted, made fun of for feelings of exclusion, and lesser worth, derided on intellect or not be treated as an equal, simply channeled and managed.
Be put in a compartment. I wanted to know so I tested and it was combative.

If I was in my mind form we'd go arm and arm.
But now we are locked in a wrestling match.


Ice Bath

Ran the shower
Distracted
by my eyebrows talking
Bright lights blaring
In a late night attempt to hush crawling itchy skin.

Stepped on the pain
It reached through the
screaming
Cold I froze
Neck talking about hair's failings again.

Burning ice
Legs woke up first
struggling to fall
Telling my head
The water is cold ice not hot, belly was chastising me about it.

Arms broke off
And my head rolled
on the linoleum.
Every part of myself
A cacophony of irritated nerves conversing.



No One Loves the Fatwoman In the Circus

Not for mind or heart am I admired
Certainly not for walk or stance.
Gaining this was a kind of disappearing.
When very thin the invitation then said bring it on.
And that was another kind of weight.
You couldn't understand that either.
As a woman to be wanted for something I had no part in making
Just those thighs or breasts please
And a rump to get palmed while I writhed
This was how it was, and my thinking was
often requested to be turned off
"Just try not to talk."
I created that person again on paper, the thin
And seductive person that hints at all the lovely thoughts
That are in my mind free to get.
But I put her inside my writing to be picked out of bones
Paper girl was able to walk and talk to people
That would never look twice my way.
She made a paper lover imagine her face.
I think the only time a face was ever required it was so good.

The fatwoman in the room is the deal breaker.
And sick with all the things despised, age, cancer,
Memories, hurts, needs, desires, appetites and willingness.
The repulsion is so very extreme
That everyone is needed elsewhere.
No one loves the fatwoman.

It's a very busy time, for my invisible lard.

Abraham Knew

A Day in the Life Of
.....And the Greatest of These Is love....


I don't think the truth is in "our hearts"...
i think love is in our hearts.
Truth is something that is so different.

At least for me. It isn't found there wrapped in "I"
truth is what at the end of the days
says something from a somewhere else

it says you cant beat your baby child
fool you need to feed everyone and share
or says that having a golden rule you ignore

is a wrong thing, is a lie against yourself
that plays on the minds and the bodies
of those forced to sit and await you waking to

its revelation and its being owned
by those who have invested heavily
in it never finding the light of a day

in this way i see truth as a
kind of light that shines outside of self
for us and guides in the darkness of being

love for me is contained within as an
action force to guide us to truth
It allows it to be revealed to a human

Love is my body, my doing, the action
love is pro creative, it is what bathes our
babies and holds on to our shoulders as we fall

From the knowing found in love
Man moves toward the capacity to search for truths
a lifetime looking for its glimmers

by itself truth not held by a love force i think
no man would look, seek it, would we?
Ultimately what truth reveals would be so much fire

a being would burn alive in the knowing
as once a burning bush seared a servant
that beheld the truth set into a rock of absolute rules

Dance Me To The End

A year ago I went to a doctor
A referral to figure out pain
My heart or stomach cancer or a cyst in my spine?
Or if the neurologist could help figure it out.

Within my two sentences he said,
"You are a dog. If you were a dog
We would give you Prozac."
This followed some trajectory for him.

I'm fatter now and in pain.
Want a few answers, some idea
Of why the syrnix causes such debilitating issues
How to distinguish it from my intestinal cancer.

It's a bit odd to have to bark and fetch
Whoof and shake my tail
In order to deal with a medical
Examination gone wrong.

One in which I am also informed he is
"Not my father" or not really, "Paid to care"
As if I would ever have the illusion I was
Paying some neurologist to "care"

I'd prefer to pay ten dollars
And buy a bag of peanut butter patties from See's
You'd get something worth sharing
With the ladies on the bus.

This the same doctor that took my drivers license
Four years earlier when I was passing out
Referred after a hysterectomy
When I noted repeat fainting and the surgeon

Was in follow up two weeks home, "Too busy to see me then."
His nurse saying , "It sounds neurological."
Sure after a hysterectomy fever and fainting
Always sounds neurological to me too.

Went on, in a week, to a month's hospitalization
I was fainting from the infections
Through my entire abdominal cavity
"Missed" by the men of science who were definitely not looking.

6 months without driving, recovering from the Demerol
Pumped in IV into my arm, head then trapped
In a hospital stay from hell that destroyed life for many days
When the cancer in my intestine was also "missed"

Returned to work, through these four years, always worked
One year of which I had to wait to get that license due to
Seizures the Demerol triggered, so walks, buses, rides
And now having that botched hysterectomy....

Several cancer surgeries, scans, tests, pills, pains
Weekly infusions, full time job teaching, kids to try to love
Years of severe anemia, often no care for it, transfusions,
A spinal problem escalated through this, untreated

A life of peritonitis and gastric bleeds
From a GIST tumor that caused immense infiltrations of an artery
Then catastrophic bleeding and chaos, confusion
With lovely, lovely issues in a heart damaged long past by attack

I wanted then to be thought of as
A fat dog that was lolling around
Waiting for a neurological egomaniac to
Throw me a bone and tell me what to expect

From my expanding syrnix, how fair he was.
But for all of that as hard as it is, as revealing to me about life
To hold in my middle aged and "needing someone to listen"
Self, having another doctor, one I thought of with love

Take "the dog" and turn it again
Into myself, into my eyes wide open
Looking at the scrolling page and reading
Something written in such cold blood

Mine.
Convinces me that
I am less a dog now than I ever was
A year ago.

Who Are You?

Now that you have the satisfaction.
Of forgetting my name.
And ranting on about the value of human dignity.
Would you like to explain
Who you are?

I'm sure I do not know how hard that is.
But make an effort.
To write the wrong.
Done in months it exhumed me
Expose your core. I'll call it compassion.

You are who?

Last Day

Final Walk

The Year Is Done

Stuff your work in a portfolio
Empty the cubbie
Share a few last minute smack down arguments about who she told to bring that here
And think of your five favorite things.

Library walk, books, kite making, field trips
Painting. until someone said baby wipes.
So we had to have a "do over"
Reading Rainbows, chess, crayons, reading groups, the food.

Songs, signing, reading, and the time we made date shakes
Puppets, The Statue of Liberty, Madeline, Eloise and Olivia
Sports Day, hula hoops, play money and our store
And the new 'serve breakfast in the room program', because of 'the fruit'.

Journals, the bean turkeys, butterflies, our winter show and the counting frenzies,
u pick It time, our computers, friends, spell-bells, jellies,
Recess, our snake skins, our pets, the tree we made and the rainbow sky we imagined
All five of these are the best, for sure.

And not a single one was Mandated, rigidly controlled, assessed, nor anything less than magic.
Goodbye little robins, time to fly this nest, I love you.
And you will ever be missed. And I'll always want to do a bit more.
But your day to grow is here. Rockin and bobbin....singing this song, bye bye.

Life Expert

4 Poems that Came From 2, from pain released

December Yields

Red raspberries
Picked out of the
Chambers of my
Heart

You gorged and spit
Seeds to lie
Awaiting another
Spring with possibility
Of fruit.



Pomegranates

filled with sticky sweet bud
and slime

seed planted to return to dark
underworld

to a being with no light
and form

passion red fruit eaten in December
juice splashing hope of love

given by a thief
a map back to nowhere.

Abandoned

Because you might be
Caught eating in this
Heart field with
Stolen fruit.
A cowardice of retreat

Gorged fruit left rotting.


Parenthetical Relating

( Inside the boundaries of your parameters, held by the words , "On another note" , I found I existed alongside a mark called parenthetically that was easily addend-ed and so, was lost inside another story)


Can You Have Any Label

Love
Can you exist beating on a door that sees you,
"Borderline, dysfunctional, PDD, Mood disordered "
and worse,
"I'm making your situation worse, through our relating."

Love,
Can you connect the sticky fruits of charms
Moments of buzzing discovery to such twist and turn
and vomit,
Vomiting away feeling, away the touch.

Love,
Are you real?
Real never the construction of this love.
and charade,
Living this charade, I can no longer carry my label.


Coward

You sit behind an encyclopedia of mind
feeling afraid.

Of phone ,connection, voice, of real and time.
A kind of scrolling typeface you sit choosing a font.

You ask nothing.Offer a thing spelled LOVE,
A chimera.

Coward. So turn to your "work"

What is the work of a coward?
Oh, the explanation of life.

Repeat Offender

Journey

Nothing about being hot cramped
Stuffed sausage in a United casing
Seems remotely about this love story on the little screen
I have to crane to see.

Coughing, coughed on

But it took me to thinking of love-
How unprepared I am, over-weighted, inadequate
Anne Lindbergh said something of love that sees another free
Especially of the "me".

Dropping the cup of cola on my shoes

I have that destination in mind
My desired trajectory
Not to you, but through you, to the places
Outside of the the limits of this sorry form stuck in chair

Flinging through stifling air.

A journey of knowing you
Traveled in my mind, considered watching this feature
Blasted through stringy headphones
I tie no string in love's name.

You need to fly free of my limited horizons.




Disreal, I Want To Hold Your Hand

It hurt.
Rejoining reality so soon
After a flight into fantasy

Like that fall that
Broke my kneecap
The day I left high school.

Inheriting a mother
Who was hearing a voice
Telling her my future was hers

Or the trip down the stairs
Damaging my spine
At just five.

Still when you gave
Me back my hand
It was really the first time.

It hurt too.
In a different way
The others closed a door

This shut off alternate reality
Where I crawl.
It hurt.


I had to feel it.

Cancer

Cancer

One of the things I am includes something I haven't overly verbalized. I'm a "survivor of cancer". At least so far...
on Fighting Cancer


Leave yourself here on the table for the procedure of the day

You battle through it as an exhausted warrior.
Now counting backward strides for granted forward moments of life,
Daunting to wake and maintain this struggle with disillusioned grief, pain, fear,love,
Knowing less each day. And then it's another test. Another round. Another test. Less. Less.
Remembering sometimes quietly those that didn't win anything on this front line, losses,
Signing, accepting the fixes, opinions, plans, head down waiting for something you can't want.

Medical cures, trials, this "industry" having to construct a wall that feels a thoughtlessness
Only taking offense when we remind them of the personal "me" prices paid,
For their experiments, by our human psyche just needing time to vent it's fatigue.
You want to be cuddled in your corner of a bed away from the lights of treatments
Compassionate responses get harder to recognize, undergirding you for the next loss,
Marked by dispassion, treating you without the capacity to connect their actions to your relief.

For then they might connect to your suffering too, debilitating knowledge this shared horror
You did nothing wrong. They did nothing wrong. In a wrong place, wrong time.In an office.
But you are marred with internal adhesions by the injustice of all of it. All wrong.Wrongs.
Nothing about this brings confusion to clarity. Dimming you. Wrong words. It is.
You just battled to be here. Brave but vanquished. Trying to find inner strengths.

Distinguishing an enemy or a nurse, cure or poison, shot, love, injection, tube, swallow
Difficult maintaining the polite distances and civility, reasonableness.
The silent scream will allow you no voice. Yes, no. No underwear today? No I'll hold my things.
Pull off things, you want to burn them as you disrobe for another wait for the cold of the processes.
Gurney taking away another piece of self. Remove your ring please. A rule.
Remove you, please, it is time to send yourself away. Just the body, my body.
Leave yourself here on the table for the procedure of the day.

Rejection

Heidi finally explained it, hearing enough.

And I still can't unwind why anyone was so mean.

"Look it's classic projection, a narcissist.
Maybe a male borderline.
Axis 2, I can't deal with them.
You farm these cases out. "

And I sat and thought about
A time you said it didn't matter,
You'd just take care of a me, if you could.

A few days later told me
You really just needed a shrink.
(then the drink, then space, then
Your job was demanding all time)
And of your interviews and family.

A dog I am you wrote, replaced
Written now as nothing was "because"
Hidden and from a vine.

I thought about a time out walking
Three things in my silent night
A star shooting, Venus and son, and closer home, a crane.

Bringing me a renewed wave of pain.
The sullied past, the trust gored,
the stupid hope, the scored game.
The name.

Heidi slid it in her envelope to contain it.

Gnawing a hole it bit me again.