Tell my why I prefer naked moonlit nights to the shade of sunny days. I'm not white, I'm the color of murky ocean, curdling beneath me with drifting globes of jellyfish. I dream of peeking down below at all the things that grow there. I'm meant to lounge in softness, killing dragons, slaying monsters, in … Continue reading Shade of Summer Days
Tag: coping
Tell Me How To Fix My Drug
Tell me how to fix my drug. I'll gladly yield my chains to the pill that gives me no high, no pleasant side effect, just the ability to almost almost feel normal. So tell me how to fix my drug. Tell me to take walks in the sunlit muse of evergreens and myrtle trees, and … Continue reading Tell Me How To Fix My Drug
Take Me
Take me. I'm too sleepy to be fit for initiative. The world about me roars and churn, but all I wish is to be, drifting along my cool river through summer trees, bills and papers floating past me. Don't try to inspire me. What action can one, who is caught up in breathing and trying … Continue reading Take Me
I’m Not Strong
I'm not strong. I only yell my hands to still until I reach the lonely corner to curl up and give in to the weakness. I'm not strong. My mind lasted for childhood then broke in motherhood. I demand for sense but it draws blank-- to black. I'm not strong. I wail against the world … Continue reading I’m Not Strong
Tappity-tap
Nodding off to the tappity-tap, bobbing with a string-played song, I shake off my chains. The chains that make my stomach hurt, my head buzz, and my heart quaver at what the future could hold. I don't want to give in give up control to the sticky way fear holds tight to me. Hissing, writhing, … Continue reading Tappity-tap
My Second Step-Father
She told me to call him Father, because my real Daddy had abandoned me long ago. And she said this with her new husband in the room. Father didn't like me. Said I didn't know respect, though, to this day, I've never been able to peice together what made up his needed respect. She told … Continue reading My Second Step-Father
Grandpa
You have my summers, My pre-school years, And all the baby moments Still trapped behind ears. Broad fingers giving illusions That your hands are big, Fit for holding A baby. You say I was one Once. An angel. Hands to hold an angel. But I came in to hug you Now, then, not long at … Continue reading Grandpa
His Black Bench
Sometimes I look back on this ex of mine who turned out to be a sociopath. I write more about him in my short-blurg of the passion confused boy. But on the sociopath stuff--for reals. Did the researched. He told me himself after such and such tests. Yep...but...I guess I'm still trying to make sense … Continue reading His Black Bench
Social Anxiety
It's being afraid that everyone is getting ready to tell you you're wrong. Wrong in how you think, wrong in what you do, wrong in how you live, wrong in what you believe, wrong in what you know, wrong for just existing, but most of all, wrong for what you feel-- and having no logical … Continue reading Social Anxiety
Come Softly, Now
Come here, softly now, because your heart and every tender feeling of your soul is breaking, and one careless step will shatter you. I know. I've been there too. I've caught my lover's personal whore legs spread on the screen-- the page, the phone, hidden from me and stealer of all his need for me. I've … Continue reading Come Softly, Now
Author T.S. Lowe 