I can't breathe.
Fall asleep, false teeth.
Around my head an anxiety wreath.
Emotions packed away re-sheathe.

Here they come to mock me, hick-ups.
Cat calls and lame pick-ups.
Cover-ups, build-ups, and hook-ups.
I have no time for these hang-ups.

Time to calm down.
Breakdown?
No, back down?
Maybe crack down?

In 1, 2, 3, out 1, 2, 3.
Release your banshee.
Sip some hot tea.
Blame the bourgeoisie.

Can't do anything?
Give me a reason to try. . .

Show up to work?
To get put down all day. . .

Deal with it?
I'm not a victim, you are an *******. . .

How did YOU get this far in life?
YOU are the one who is truly pathetic. . .

Do you get off on making girls cry?
Look around, all alone. . .

I have that all of my pets died here
I hate that the best people here are still racists and homophobic
I hate that my boss nitpicks, micromanages, belittles, and humiliates everyone and HR won't do a thing about it.
I hate that I am dependent on a job to pay off student loans
I hate that my boss is inside of my head even when I am home

I have flashes of hurting and killing myself.

I have to get rid of everything so my husband doesn't have to deal with it when I die.

death is so expensive. Even cremation breaks 5 figures.
What if I just leave a note and disappear?

How would I even disappear? This planet is crawling with filthy humans.

I just want to die.

Maybe I will travel to a poor country and pay someone to shoot me in the head and burry me.

If only . . .

On top of the mountain and you want to be your friend.

I fall off the mountain often.

I'm not ashamed of it, but you are.  

I can't stand you bragging to your friends when I land an awesome job.

My line of work is generally seasonal, which means I am just as likely to be unemployed this time next year.

But for "some reason" you wont even talk to me when that happens.

You wont invite me to . . . well anything.

When, I'm "on top of the world" you just gab, gab, gab.

We are the bestest of friends.

Finally, after a year of unemployment and crickets I have a few awesome things lined up.

But this time, you don't need to know.

Never again, will you need to know.

Because I am not a tool for you to use just to make your friends jealous.

I am a person.

And I am just as awesome when I am on top Mount Everest as I am in the GD Mariana trench.

Here we go again . . .
December 31st 2021, sitting by the fire pit, surrounded by the dark clear sky of Utah. "This is the first time I truly feel happy. The first time I don't want to go to sleep and NOT wake up in the morning."
The next day my husky Nikko dies.
He was old, very old.

This year has been, not great.
First my rabbit Gizmo dies, a digestion issue.
Two months later my Chihuahua, Dexter dies.
He was old, congestive heart failure.
Four months later and Nikko passes.
One month later and now our last furry family member, Jazmine.
She has been diagnosed with congestive heart failure and is showing similar signs as Dexter did.

Did you know if you die all of your federal student loans
are discharged. That means no one has to pay them back. Lucky
me, I only have federal student loans. Sixty thousand dollars my husband and cosigners wouldn't have to worry about.

One week before Christmas break and I lost my job.
Nothing on me, just how things go I guess.
I'm still on great terms with my boss.
Student loan repayment plans starts up in February and I just lost my job.

What I am I going to do?

Whose lives would change if I just died?
I live across the country and don't talk to my family.
Nothing would change there.

We have virtual game nights, but I don't contribute to the
conversation. I usually just put my foot in my mouth.
Nothing would really change there.

My husbands family doesn't even like me.
They would probably be happy for their son to marry someone better. "Someone good for him".

My husband, oh how much I love him.
His life would change vastly. He would be sad for a little while but then he would move on. He could do everything he wanted. It was MY dream to move around the country. Not his. He could finally put roots down in the town we are living in or move back home  to rekindle roots with old friends. He could do what ever he wants and not have to take my feelings into consideration, at all.
His life would change. He would be happier.

The soldier is just that. They fight in actual wars. They risk their lives to protect the "morals" of their "country". None-the-less, they want a better future for their children.

When the war is done, the soldiers children are the farmers. The farmers rebuild, and want. They want material objects. Maybe it's the food they lacked when they were young. Maybe it's a gas guzzling sports car. None-the-less, they want a better future for their children.

When material "wealth" has been achieved the artist is born to the farmer. The artist has the time to take actual pleasure in life's little wonders. But they also have the time to see all the injustices in the world. Injustices, vial enough to start a . . . war.  None-the-less, they want a better future for their children.

You love abusing me
You love telling me what to do
Your servant
You love when I do the dishes
"Because I know how to do them right"
Because you hit me when I did them "wrong"
and you hit me when the other kids wouldn't wash them at all

You love it when someone takes care of you
You conditioned me to be the perfect caregiver
For you
You love codependence
You love yourself

You don't realize that you don't love me
You grieve for me
You grieve, because it's not easy
To live without
A fulltime caregiver
A fulltime maid
A fulltime cook

It took me a long time to learn what love is
I love my Husband
I love his smile, his brilliant eyes, and that he hugs me
when I'm feeling down
I love listening to him get excited
about weird and pointless things
I love seeing him happy, with or without me
I love that we are on the same team
Team "Us", both of us

You can tell me "I Love You" everyday
for the rest of  your life
but you are only lying to yourself

The words that flow from my mouth

Unfiltered

Full of grit and **** and bile

My actions

Too aggressive and destructive and thoughtless

My existence

Too pointless and worthless and shameful

You have a degree in marine biology.
. . .and?
You are moving to a land locked state.
. . . so?
Are you going to throw away your career?
. . . maybe.
(In reality no, but I'm not going give you that comfort. You clearly don't understand how modern science works)

Career is not the best way to measure a successful life.
I stand firm to your confused glare.

I went to college at 18 and decided "marine biology".
. . . why?
It's cool.
I had one class in oceanography.
I have never held a fish before.
I had been to the ocean a few times.
At 18, I based my life on "It's cool" and no one thought twice.

Now, I'm pushing 30. This year I got married to my bestfriend of 4 years, we bought a house, and want to start a family.
. . . and you are asking "Are you sure?"

I have been thinking and planning this for  years.
I have lived through 2020.
I am more sure of this than anything in my life.

So, if you don't understand?
If you don't approve?
Agree?
. . . It's cool.

If it's not your story to tell,
don't tell it.

If you weren't there,
it's not your story.

Gossip is a poison
that propagates rumors.

This can ruin lives,
the live of the ones you "care" about.

It gives rise to expectation,
expectations that aren't yours to have.

When failure is inevitable,
the victim is shunned.

Why does the one who poisons the well,
get off Scott free?

A simpler life
No more anger and strife

In the yard, in the sun
Spinning in gardening fun

A big floppy hat
Sunglasses acrobat

Crisp, refreshing mint juleps
When I finish planting these tulips

Owning a house is dream
A capitalist scheme

Millennial bravado
When you choose avocado

I feel like I'm going insane.
I can't remember anything.
My short term memory is, poor at best.
My long term memory continues to fade.

Dissociation
Depersonalization
Derealization

I have an MS but you would never know.
I'm too dumb to get a PhD.
I'm too dumb to communicate with most people.

I'm checking out.
Missing gaps.
Making up stories.

Blood makes me squeamish
A cut on my siblings leg
landed me on the floor
After catching my breath
I retrieved help

Bad. Bad. Bad.

Punishment.
If I punish myself
No one else can punish me
Wrong.

"You bruise easily."
"No, I punch really hard."

Usually it's my left thigh.
It makes sense
I'm right handed
No one can see
No one can judge

Bad. Bad. Bad.

When it's a lesson to be "learned"
It leave a nasty shiner
On my right eye
It makes sense
I'm right handed
Everyone can see it
Everyone can judge

I'm afraid to speak.
My words are always bad
Always wrong
A lesson to be "learned"

Stay Silent.
Shut Up.
Don't Speak.
Don't Bruise!

Growing up, I moved from town to town. I blamed it on my mom. Sometimes we moved twice in a year.

As an adult, I move from state to state. I blamed it on my wonder-lust. The longest I've lived consistently in one place was 3 years.

The bonds of the people I've needed the most broke when they died.

I will never be a best friend. That place is always reserved for someone more special who has known you longer. I'll never know anyone longer. I'm transient.

I will always be, "ya ain't from around here, girl." I'm not from anywhere. I'm transient.

I have many hobbies, many skills. To keep moving you have to keep learning. "You're doing it wrong", no, I'm doing it different.

I don't claim to be all knowing. 5th generation laborer and "I've been doing this since I was 12", it doesn't make you a messiah. Practice makes permanent, not necessarily perfect.

Be open to trying new things. Be accepting. "Stay in your lane!"

This is why I move again. The shine of the new place wore off. I realize I'm alone again. I don't have strong enough bonds to stay. I can distract myself with adventure. I am transient.

At the beginning of 2020, Australia was on fire.
The threat of WWIII was all too real.
Baby dictators playing with "disposable" human lives.

Disposable lives
Disposable masks
Disposable gloves
Disposable plastic bags
. . . and here were are again with disposable lives.

My family and I survived the Oregon trail and not one of us died from dysentery. A small victory!

George Floyd, "I can't breath."
Black Lives Matter.  
LGBTQ+ Lives Matter.

Marching in the streets and shouting until I can't speak. Organizing and criticizing institutions that WE built. People WE put into office. And my more political topics that WE are responsible for.

Black Lives Still Matter.
LQBTQ+ Lives Still Matter.
Anti-maskers, "I can't breath."

A shame and a reflection in the United States education system.

Me walking my dogs, "I can't breath. . . without a mask"
Ashes falling from our apocalypses skys.
My skin burns from the air.
I my dog sneezing because they don't have masks.
My mask discolored from this short walk.

Exposed
Double Down
Tested
Isolate
Negative
Relief
Virtual Life

A light at the end of this long tunnel?
Good-bye Oregon!
2021, let's try Utah?

Coffee
I lay here in bed
Yearning for the taste
The only reason to get out of bed

Coffee
The warm comforting feel
Filling my mouth
Filling me with hope

Coffee
I look forward to it
I want it first thing in the morning
I want it last thing in the evening

Sugar
One heaping spoonful
Stirred in to get my fix
Sweet, sweet bliss to rot my teeth

Finally, I feel "normal"

Remember that feeling in 2016,
when your choices were - an orange
crybaby or **** filled latrine.

Vote for the third party or abstain,
both of which are options,
options labeling you as vain.

A zero sum game.
Only you're to blame.
A sense of shame.
Profanities, exclaim!
. . . All in the same. . .

Take that nausea and superimpose it
on to every aspect of your life.
2020 has been nothing but $h!t

Orange shining through the window
We head outside to take a peek
Blue sky's to the North
A dark haze from the South

Small particulates drifting in the air
You reach out, and a piece lands on your hand
It looks like plant matter, only grey
You gently touch it with your free hand

. . . Ash.

Retro clothes, golden glasses, rainbow suspenders.

Wide face, soft skin, petite woman.

Tongue tied, stupid words, blush.

"Mr. Stark, I don't feel so good."

Disappearing, disintegrating, dust.

"I don't want to exist anymore"

Words you can never tell anyone.

Do you have a silly secret?
Something that doesn't hurt anyone.
A silly thing to giggle at.
It isn't a lie but still you feel sly.

In a past life time I used hide my candy bars in a shrimp ramen package.

No one ever touched them.
No one ever knew.
I giggle to myself,
through and through.

I wear makeup to work,
So people treat me better.

I work with fish.
I get covered in slime.
I don't make tips.
(Not that, that is acceptable)
I have a fiance.
I'm off market.
I'm not there to impress anyone.

No makeup.
I'm ignored.
My credentials are questioned more.
They pick fights.
They behave poorly.

With makeup well,
I only have to deal with one creepy person.

I wear makeup to work,
So people treat me better.

What is wrong with me?
Unregulated hormones up the wall?
I'm getting older, arn't these hormones supposed to chill out?
(STRESS)
I already use man-deodorant.
It lasts longer and works better.
My body had abandoned hope for women's Secret or smelling like Teen Spirit long ago.
(STRESS)
Three applications a day.
Avoid synthetics, they hold smell.
Shower every morning to manage.
The sweet scent of Gain can only do so much.
(STRESS)
The state of our current political affairs, is the root cause.
Lacking basic human rights, is the root cause.
A country of ignorant people spreading hate, is the root cause.
(STRESS)
Deodorant doesn't stand a chance!

Some one is pulling my spine out.
Their hands are wrapped around my Thoracic.
The pain spreads to my nerves around my ribs and up my shoulders.

A ghost blows a cool, long, slow gust of air on the back of my neck.
Taking a second to pass though my body, laughing at me.

Fire and ice covers my skin.
It burns. It burns. It burns.
The fire burns and the ice bits.
It bites. It bites. It bites.

A cool crisp cider to pour down my throat to quench and drench the pain.
New friends, good company not knowing my flaws and holding my hostage.

Knowing, I'm stuck in isolation.
Cider and friends are a slim possibility.
I can't fix it. Subdue it. Ignore it.

My brain is running a million programs a second.

Why can't I remember anything?

Some days I can feel the cool metal
Pressed under my chin

Life rushing by, pressure on the peddle
Head hanging over the bin

Some days I can feel my heart's been ripped out
Hollow, outlined in pain, eating at me

My head spinning, I can't find the best route
Pretending everything is okay, sipping tea

Some days I just want to throw-up
People in this world make me nauseous (including me)

Can't handle the word, hide behind make-up
Over trusting over cautious

Some days my mind won't stop spinning

Some days my mind won't stop spinning

. . . Some days my mind won't stop spinning

Growing up I was the "tomboy" a term
I now loathe.

My mom had a lesbian roommate, LGBT was widely accepted at my school, my brother is bi and my auncle non-binary.

I've been surrounded by this magical group of people and I have always supported them.

But for me it was different. The same rules didn't apply. I loved Buffy the vampire Slayer and other logo shows. But I became defensive when confronted or described with the term lesbian.

It was okay for others, I supported them and was excited. My family wouldn't have cared. But why did it sit on my chest like a boulder for so long? . . . No, not me. I don't like girls!

But did, I was the biggest flirt too!

I even loved a girl. I remembered being nervous in college orientation. She was sitting at a desk to my left. She was thin with big curly hair. I was nervous but I wanted to talk to her.

She looked at me with beautiful brown eyes, a cute little nose, and lips I found myself lost in. She was the most beautiful person I have ever seen. I was a stuttering fool as she asked to compare class schedules.

She became my best friend. We live together, cuddled, and took care of each other. For two years. When the relationship ended, she said she said she felt like she was loosing a boyfriend. Ew, not like that! I was defensive. I did not like girls. I couldn't have, the rules didn't apply to me. The next year it didn't understand why it hurt so much to pass her with her girlfriend at the gym. After two more years I would finally know why.

Working at the coffee shop I saw two lovely young lesbians sharing a *** of tea. Then she handed in an application. She met all of the qualifications. It was delightful to have her in my life. To watch how life could be. She was pretty patient and kind. She took the time to answer the hard questions.

That is the first time, I acknowledged that I might be gay. All girls find other girls pretty, right?

After along drive with my brother, he was convinced I am deep in the closet. How did he know? I didn't even mention it.

Flash forward and I told a boyfriend that I like girls. But it was a secret. That relationship ended. After a bit I told my following. I. Like. Girls. It was a secret. I still didn't want to tell anyone else.

Yesterday, I joined my first LGBTQ+ facebook group. I'm still hesitant to share with anyone I know in person other than my fiancee. He is a man and I do love him. What am I? Am I allowed to Identify as LGBTQ+ if I, a female, is in a relationship with a straight man.

What am I? What am I? What am I?

Probably pansexual. In reality, I am scared.

Today, I wrote this and I am cracking the closest door.

Upon waking up I hate myself
Peeling out of bed
Like removing lead from a shelf
My head bubbling with dread

Looking in the mirror I feel hallow
My eyes empty
My monologue ever more shallow
If I only knew now, when I was twenty

Did I do the right thing?
Did I say the right thing?
Did I share the right thing?
Did I post the right thing?

Dressed in five day old jammies
Working two jobs
Can't pay of debt reciting taxonomies
Look at the news, now my heart sobs

Why is it so hard to be a good person?
People like you make me sick
Turn around and be a new version
I hope for your sake someday it will click.

When I first met you, I cried.
Looking upon your silhouette, I wondered.

Reading your articles, I wanted to know you.
Searching for hours, I would find you.

A traveling boxer, just breaking into fame.
A husband, a father.

She moved from Pennsylvania to Oregon, and was your demise in 1902.
I moved from Pennsylvania to Oregon, and I will remember you.

A decade younger than her, but I feel the responsibility heavy on my shoulders. The resemblance to me, uncanny

She took you to your grave and I will celebrate your life.

Why did it have to take this long?

Working for YOU
Fighting for YOU
Losing sleep for YOU

But me, I work two jobs, have three sick dogs, and over 100,000 dollars in student debt to pay off.

Not enough time to eat, for YOU
Crying for hours, for YOU
Migraines for days, for YOU

In the face of danger, for YOU
Across the street from an AR-15, for YOU
Unwavering as the beast threatens to take my leg, for YOU

Stand up for what's right but keep your mouth shut
Talk less, smile more

But I'm seemingly straight
I am white
Everything I've done means nothing. . .

To YOU.

Close your eyes, take in a deep breath of the salty air.
Now open them.

With fresh eyes, looking out you see the deep navy blue water and numerous waves in the distant water.
Crash, crash, crashing into each other.
Pristine white cross-hatching sea foam patterns scatter and reform.

You have been walking towards the water's edge and haven't even noticed. The soft cream colored sand starts to darken and harden as you approach the water.

The wind is loud enough to drown out nearby conversations and passing cars. You are in your own world. Nothing from the tangible world can touch you. The cool wind constantly battles the sun's heat on your face and hands, causing your skin to tingle.

You reach your arms out and close your eyes, lost in the moment.

Breathing in the salty fresh air you let go of your troubles, if only for the moment.

If the United States made an Ireland . . .
It would be somewhere on the coast.
It would have massive blue rocky cliffs to hold back the ocean.
It would have fields outlined with shallow rock fences.

If the United States made an Ireland . . .
There would be every shade of green as you walk down the street.
There would be moss dangling from the trees reaching out to you.
There would be rain, lots and lots of rain!

If the United States made an Ireland . . .
People would be sailors, fishermen, and drunkards.
People would be cautious and friendly in the same moment.
People would be the biggest jokers you ever met.

It the United States made an Ireland it would be in Oregon. . .

From Pennsylvania to Oregon

Broken, painful, and haunted memories.
Shuffling through items to determine their fate.
Burning my skin, my cheeks, why did I keep those memories for this long?
A relief fills my central nervous system as I draw out the infect capsules laying waste to my body.

Sweet, romantic, and familure memories.
There is only so much space on my horseless carriage.
Juicy to the touch, on my lips and tongue like a pomegranate, leaving me wanting more.
A sorrow fills my eyes as I pour out the dried flowers petals of lost loved ones.

The essentials: blankets, clothes, pots and pans.
The heirlooms: a dish set, jewelry, a dress, a bible.
Funny, I don't even believe in God.

My most prized possessions, my letters, my journals.
To remember a time past, many other lives that I lived.
My bread crumbs to remind me where I came from and how I got here.
Precious food for my soul to help me get up and keep moving forward.

From Pennsylvania to Oregon,
~Cheers

I don't feel like I belong anywhere.
Most days I just want to die.
If I say these words I'm being dramatic.
I look around and I have no one.

What happened?

People shut me out.
It's probably my fault.
They won't tell me why.
I can't see a way to fix it.

What happened?

Shut my mouth.
We all die alone.
I'm  tired.

What happened?

I, the ringmaster, start the show with my top hat on just right and by my side, the lion tamer.

Each day is a show, a facade to let the world know that we are in control and they are safe from the events to come.

Two little monkeys draw your attention to the center ring, one howling and screeching for attention while the other one looks more like a goblin than a monkey. The roll, tumble, and trapeze around the room they demand your attention. The little monkey goblin digs her way in an around the aerial silks as the silly little howler mocks you and laughs at you more forcefully than any clown before.

Then a sideshow freak bombards you with impressive feats that should not be possible for one so small. He the strong man lifts objects easily ten times heavier than him, all the while balancing them on his head. He the sword swallower confusing, disgusting, and still impressive. He the electic act, bitting into live wires and walking away unscathed.

Last to be seen! The final act! The most beautiful and magnificent! The king of the jungle! As the monkeys and the sideshow leave, the powerful and loquacious mane enters. Not much of a talker but when he roars, the sound reverberates through your whole body. Old scars, and soul filled eyes, tell of his conquest and likewise failures. As he and the lion tamer circle each other in the pit, they constantly play the game of Alpha. Albeit, at the end of the say, they are best friends that only want to enjoy a good cuddle.

Ringmaster, lion tamer, monkeys, freak, and the lion, a smattering of strange individuals relying on each other for comfort and safety. Each day a new beginning, a new show, a new chance.

A family.

My family.

A careless child dropping a vessel.

You can't expect the broken to tell you their pain, sometimes you have to ask.

Air bursting through a window, throwing a vase on the ground.

"Do things because you want to", I don't see the point.

High a top the shelf, the sly cat knocks over the heirloom.

Depression is blinding, defining, chilling, and easily over looked.

Falling over and over again.

Broken over and over again.

Eventually we all are like pottery shattered into dust.

Making hard choices every day.
I can't sleep, while the world suffers.
Look in my eyes and share my pain.
Lending money I can never pay back.
Equality, is our dream.
Not ever being good enough for them.
Not having children, is our responsibility.
Isolation, desperation, contimplation.
Always hungry for a bigger challenge.
Lonely networking eager faces.

Losing myself in the past encompassment if you're purple fluid.

Nothing in the world makes sense anymore, but this is vividly lucid.

It is the first time in a long while my mind has been at ease.

Stuck in this cold smelly laboratory, you wobble as a beautiful flower in a gentle spring breeze.

Spinning round and round and watching as your viscous liquid collapses on its center.

As the bubbles float to your surface, and your opaqueness turns transparent, so do I imbibe the truth of reality.

Just as it began, so will it end at my hand.

Your fortune awaits as you help to reveal the secret that the naked I cannot see.

I can only hope my future is as beautiful as yours.