i'm not, not sure, not to sure how it feels to handle every day
magazines are a lot like television commercials.
showing common folk all the things they want,
but can't have.
this is my concern.
surrounded by fifty five year old children who retired to a life
of video games and golf
with a wife that comes home from work to make lunch.
before the vicodin induced nap.
of course.
this is my family.
drunk at 8:45 am, skip the coffee.
bud light works better to soften the sound
of squawking grammas, better than any bean could.
this is my life.
convincing my maker that it's okay not to put on the mask.
if it itches, don't wear it.
who are you trying to impress?
this is me.
putting on makeup like armor.
so black and runny that it looks like i've been crying for weeks.
so stuck, a bird in a cage with the metal door opened.
if only you held your finger out so i could perch on that support.
call me roberta sparrow, for all i see myself is as an old woman
with sex hair, waiting for something that's not coming.
today is the day that makes me question my families motives.
i wonder if they are helping me because they love me,
or if they are because they want a good meal.
do they help because they don't want to lose face,
to not be perfect in the eyes of their peers?
or do they just want an excuse to drink.
i feel like i just opened a set of eyelids i never knew i had,
and my hazy world is turning clearer.
the beauty and the ugly of life.
no matter the weather, it always gusts around dinner time.
strong enough to knock down umbrellas.
the other day i was sitting at a table outside of the hospital,
smoking a cigarette and closing my eyes so they wouldn't get too dry.
i looked up at a near buildings roof and saw a sea gull contemplating
taking it's life. or so i told myself. a real life scenario.
the wind blew so hard on my face that my hair obstructed my view
of the suicidal bird. it stayed there, on the edge of the roof,
for what seemed like days. it cried and continued it's gaze
on at what could be. then it was gone. flew away as birds do and left me
alone to think about lives not worth living...how easy it is to give up
or fly away.
life like that is worth living for. seeing something for what it could be.
looking deeper, all logic or no logic attached.
looking beyond the facts, but the emotions behind them.
it's meaning and wisdom in the palm of your hand.
now, to give it up or fly away. i wonder if there are more options.
throughout the day, i have these phrases manifested from my own mind come
blowing at me, nearly knocking me down with the power they hold.
i see how a bathroom can hold so much life in it...so many memories,
so many people i once was. how preoccupied i was back
then by everything but what i should have been...
but first to check my face and hips
for all the flaws i was sure were oozing out of me.
if i looked hard enough in a mirror. they did.
i see how a word, a joke five years too late can change views, bring them
back to what they once were. if you keep me on this merry go round i swear
i'll puke in your face.
there is a sense of power when you realize you see things obscurely.
i see seemingly meaningless things but find them inspiring, touching.
altering.
days without something substantial to hold on to are days lost.
i want to mean something when i rest my head at night.
i want to know that life hurts, but that it's worth it in the end.
i want dreams so good that i stop waking up crying at night.
i want to be as strong as i keep telling myself i am.
i'd like nothing more at this moment than to lay down with a boy like
paul trout.
someone who sees beauty behind the bruises, behind grave past mistakes.
i cannot, soon i will be forced to pretend that i'm fine, put on that
well known grin, and be face to face with people i can't look in the eye.
i wish chelsie was here.
she'd know what to do.
she'd blare some choking victim so we could scream,
or drowned them out with our heart wrenching attempts at singing bright eyes.
she'd give me that look that told me it was safe to escape upstairs
so we could smoke and talk about how we wished this was over.
oh, how i wish this all was over.
the cleaning and the screaming weren't the worst parts of the preparation.
it was deciding which pictures i should show, which pictures would
define my life. which would show what i cared about, what i missed?
aside from picking pictures which i didn't find embarrassing,
of course you know the ones i did pick.
regardless if they were fake smiles or unhappy days...they are a
still frame of my life. an image of what we had. a little piece that can never be taken away.
back then i tried so hard. back then i had things to smile about, but
chose to cry about the details. now i see all these people crying
about the details and i want to scream. just be happy someone loves you.
just be happy someone wants to remember you.
the constant in my life has been the wanting.
showing common folk all the things they want,
but can't have.
this is my concern.
surrounded by fifty five year old children who retired to a life
of video games and golf
with a wife that comes home from work to make lunch.
before the vicodin induced nap.
of course.
this is my family.
drunk at 8:45 am, skip the coffee.
bud light works better to soften the sound
of squawking grammas, better than any bean could.
this is my life.
convincing my maker that it's okay not to put on the mask.
if it itches, don't wear it.
who are you trying to impress?
this is me.
putting on makeup like armor.
so black and runny that it looks like i've been crying for weeks.
so stuck, a bird in a cage with the metal door opened.
if only you held your finger out so i could perch on that support.
call me roberta sparrow, for all i see myself is as an old woman
with sex hair, waiting for something that's not coming.
today is the day that makes me question my families motives.
i wonder if they are helping me because they love me,
or if they are because they want a good meal.
do they help because they don't want to lose face,
to not be perfect in the eyes of their peers?
or do they just want an excuse to drink.
i feel like i just opened a set of eyelids i never knew i had,
and my hazy world is turning clearer.
the beauty and the ugly of life.
no matter the weather, it always gusts around dinner time.
strong enough to knock down umbrellas.
the other day i was sitting at a table outside of the hospital,
smoking a cigarette and closing my eyes so they wouldn't get too dry.
i looked up at a near buildings roof and saw a sea gull contemplating
taking it's life. or so i told myself. a real life scenario.
the wind blew so hard on my face that my hair obstructed my view
of the suicidal bird. it stayed there, on the edge of the roof,
for what seemed like days. it cried and continued it's gaze
on at what could be. then it was gone. flew away as birds do and left me
alone to think about lives not worth living...how easy it is to give up
or fly away.
life like that is worth living for. seeing something for what it could be.
looking deeper, all logic or no logic attached.
looking beyond the facts, but the emotions behind them.
it's meaning and wisdom in the palm of your hand.
now, to give it up or fly away. i wonder if there are more options.
throughout the day, i have these phrases manifested from my own mind come
blowing at me, nearly knocking me down with the power they hold.
i see how a bathroom can hold so much life in it...so many memories,
so many people i once was. how preoccupied i was back
then by everything but what i should have been...
but first to check my face and hips
for all the flaws i was sure were oozing out of me.
if i looked hard enough in a mirror. they did.
i see how a word, a joke five years too late can change views, bring them
back to what they once were. if you keep me on this merry go round i swear
i'll puke in your face.
there is a sense of power when you realize you see things obscurely.
i see seemingly meaningless things but find them inspiring, touching.
altering.
days without something substantial to hold on to are days lost.
i want to mean something when i rest my head at night.
i want to know that life hurts, but that it's worth it in the end.
i want dreams so good that i stop waking up crying at night.
i want to be as strong as i keep telling myself i am.
i'd like nothing more at this moment than to lay down with a boy like
paul trout.
someone who sees beauty behind the bruises, behind grave past mistakes.
i cannot, soon i will be forced to pretend that i'm fine, put on that
well known grin, and be face to face with people i can't look in the eye.
i wish chelsie was here.
she'd know what to do.
she'd blare some choking victim so we could scream,
or drowned them out with our heart wrenching attempts at singing bright eyes.
she'd give me that look that told me it was safe to escape upstairs
so we could smoke and talk about how we wished this was over.
oh, how i wish this all was over.
the cleaning and the screaming weren't the worst parts of the preparation.
it was deciding which pictures i should show, which pictures would
define my life. which would show what i cared about, what i missed?
aside from picking pictures which i didn't find embarrassing,
of course you know the ones i did pick.
regardless if they were fake smiles or unhappy days...they are a
still frame of my life. an image of what we had. a little piece that can never be taken away.
back then i tried so hard. back then i had things to smile about, but
chose to cry about the details. now i see all these people crying
about the details and i want to scream. just be happy someone loves you.
just be happy someone wants to remember you.
the constant in my life has been the wanting.