Addiction MalflictionNoticing the protruding ribcage bones out of her daughters torso wasn't quite enough.
Not quite enough to realize the years of torture through self image and self mutilation;
and sleeping screaming.
In a tone quiet enough so no one could figure out what was being said.
What was converting controversy that developed in her mind for future years.
Not enough for others to reach a helping hand out and save her drowning self esteem.
Not that she would want it for her "pride" was too strong.
Drowning deep in the waters of the cold Atlantic-
Somewhere far off of the east coast.
Battling this raging war within and as fallen soldiers and enemies and alliances blindsided to the
art of dying.
the delicate and tedious process of disorder and addiction.
Vodka flowing through the ventricles of her heart.
And cigarette smoke filling her lungs.
Disorder and addiction these are mistakes made.
Consciously ; Purposely
Anxiety triggered pain of this life that she has lived.
This life that she has not made
Moving ForwardHis voice;
Inside of my head, a never ending recorded reel.
That killed so many emotions, inside of my mother's heart
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All of the broken promises and lies of the broken generations.
And my children that will never get the chance to meet their grandfather;
Just as I didn't.
A lonely walk down the isle on my fucking wedding day as tears are shed, not out of happiness, as they should be but out of anger and frustration that he won't
The home that I miss,taken away by a letter found with his pale green body.
Already decomposing with a carbon monoxide odor still lingering on his
His disconnected image and lost embrace taken from physical life as I know it. The times lost in memory. His protective smell lost in ashes.
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Personal KnowledgeThe cigarette smoke danced like butterflies;
as we slept intertwined like the most experienced contortionists.
Mangling and molding out bodies together like twisting vines.
Wrapped up in sheets of eight hundred thread count cotton.
Skin and flesh blanketing our every move.
The bond shared between organ and bone.
And never ending fingertips along every contour the body takes shape.
Veins of mass destruction;
Limbs tied in knots.
Rotting away desires and experience.
Throwing away facades and bleeding away fantasies.
Invincible are we, through crucifying the scarlet letters on eachother's back.
Composing a symphony of "mmm's" and "ahhh's";
Reaking with a backsplash of alcoholic splurge.
Count how many bones my ribcage enhabits.
Enhancing the mandatory committment the physical acquire in the middle of the night.
Marks of sweat from the back of my knees cover those shaking shoulders.
Conquer the urges and vulnerability.
and rub my inner thig
A Mind Fuckplagiarize the images flashing onto the screen
digitalize my life.
and counterfeit my emotions.
iconize the way my fingers stroke th the keys of this
breath of whiskey;
walls covered in years of cigarette smoke.
reworking the contradiction of memorizing pie through numbers of
three point one four one five nine ect.
unbanded heights of new technology
forging electronically through wires of thick rubber.
developing process improvement
by only talking through moriss code;
;until fingers bleed.
a quiet smash as your forehead hits the wet concrete.
and a final reconciliation between comfort and stability
;hits a little too close to home
western romance novels gave us hitler.
but my mother's old record player sang frank sinatra
;and it gave me love.
idle hands of sleeping drinkers never shak
Here's lookin at you, kid
I sat down today
pen in hand, beautiful blank sheet of college-ruled paper
with every intention of writing a declaration of my love
a sonnet, a vow, a sappy, mushy, nauseatingly sweet little poem
about how I love you to bits and pieces
how I can't stop thinking about you
how I want to kiss your lips
and ruffle your hair
and spend forever in your arms.
Or about how I see stars in your eyes
hear joy in your laughter
and doodle my name with your last name
like a love sick school girl.
But I realized that no words are good enough
no expression deep enough
no declaration clear enough
to explain the feeling I have when I hear your voice
Everything I wrote seemed to cheapen the thrill
as if my pen was driven by some unseen force of cliché
and you're too good for cliché.
I thought about describing the way my love for you
is like a tidal wave(1)
and how I want to share every coral sunset with you
and kiss you under a full moon on the beach
when the silver of the moonlight reflects in