Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 Jun 2014 Hidden Secrets
NitaAnn
A
little
ANXIOUS
tonight,
oh
hell
be
honest
I
am
FREAKING
the
FU#%
out
PANICKY
cannot
breathe
lungs
a­re
tight
struggling
A
N
X
I
O
U
S

anxious...
anxious
anxious
­
**ANXIOUS
It's hard to see the good when you're only shown the bad
Thought of this while daydreaming
 Jun 2014 Hidden Secrets
NitaAnn
When do you stop blaming yourself? Stop believing that you deserved it because you are worthless, *****, a failure (just look at everything else you have failed in)? When do you sleep through the night and not wake up with your stomach in a knot and your lungs begging for air? When does your heart start to open up and love yourself? When does it stop being scared?

I'd love to know...because I'm not sure how much more I can take. It's kind of funny because, I am not even sure how much of these feelings are from the CSA or how much is from family problems now or how much is just from my declining physical health. Today is a rough day. I'm hoping once the coffee sets in and I wake up a little more...it'll get better...
when the world,
was much younger
and i was a stupid-crazy
girl-ly-chick, enamoured
with her youth.

i drove, a sunshine,
lemon, yellow bottomed, white pith on top combi van. coyly, cloyingly named Mello Martha.

it was...surfboards and swimsuits,
egg and bacon sangers,
early morning breezes,
after a blitz at the breadbox.

before... changing into
the structured, tortured baby, bank teller blues,
in the back,doors left open.

it was... rockin, knockin,
***, on credit,
to a promised future,
alluded to, but postponed,
for the moment.

it was... bruised back and
grazed knees,
harder, deeper oh god!
oh god! please... faster, fucken frenzies,
on a saturday night.

it was....running away to nowhere,
to find myself,
then finding me,
running away from,
the self i didn't want to know.
noway, nowhere, nohow.

it was... a barrel of monkeys, a barrel of laughs,
a keg of beer,
a box of wine,
under the crowded stars.

it was.... a roadtrip,
up the coast,
midnight bonfire,
midnight munchies,
playing hunches,
exploring reefs and reefers and such.

it was...far from family
and church rules,
a friendly rebellion,
of loud, proud youth.
totally and brazenly,
uncouth
it was... wham! and m.j.
cindy and boy george's culture club ,paperlace,
billy idol and the beach boys.
sung with abandon,
at spinal tap level eleven.

it was... peaceful, quiet, sleeping grace.
insanely in love with...
i forgot his name.

it was.... the birth of bodaciously me.
all brass hair and bosoms,
wild and carefree.

it was ....so long ago,

it was... yesterday night,

when i saw... Mello Martha's identical twin,
stopped at a traffic light.
it was... sunshine and lemon, bitter and sweet,
as she sailed off, down the street.
i sat and watched,
wist, full of recollect,
far and away, from my presently minded place...
sitting in, the driver's seat,
of my mom-blue subaru.
To use a quote that encapsulates my feelings right now,
“I'm tired of this back-slappin' "isn't humanity neat" *******. We're a virus with shoes.”
― Bill Hicks

The Poem

Originally I thought I suffered from irritability,
irritability of the human race.
Then I realised whilst looking at my face, it was hate.
I told the Doctor I'd thought of suicide, then realised
I wanted to commit mass homicide.
Become a hermit.
Mankind, womankind I hate you, people think me nice, fair,
and kind, I know the truth, I am a *******, so you must be too.
We as a race need a cull.
Do I like the human race? No. What's to like?
I even dislike people that purport to be friends.
I intricately step my way through this world of vermin.
We defile what is beautiful and true, hate because we
are taught to. Ruin, start wars, cause pain, then moan about the rain!
We as a race are quite crudely put, a pile of ****,
but even **** has purpose, a role.
What role do we have? To hate one another?
If so please make it equal and adhere to political correctness,
by that I mean, Hate Everyone equally.
© JLB 07/06/2014
“You ever get the feeling the world's filling up with *******? I do. What I want to know is what happens when all the ******* run out of people to crap on? What happens when all that's left in the world is *******? . . . The golden rule. ***** unto others before they ***** unto you.”
― William Hoffman, A Place For My Head
Next page