I'm not paying attention until the violent
Hiss jerks me awake t
The same way the
Violent crack of a gunshot of would.
Collision of liquid on hot metal
Pushes away any dreams lingering.
Fully aware now I reach for the door, Once a gleaming, vibrant white
Now covered with  
Dingy use.
I know the cold air is coming
But still it's another
Jolt to my system,
The chill of the air conspiring the
Brightness of the light,
Giggling together at my obvious Displeasure of them.
Light tickles my eyes into a
Squint like a feather tickles your
Nose into a sneeze.
Through the squint I can see the color of bark,  
Dark brown heart of trees
Secretly pumping blood of trees,
Sticky and sweet just like
Ours.
Just like the blood being
Pumped by the
Little heart behind the sound of giggles that has slowly snaked its way
Through the doors and
Around the walls to my ears.
Giggles and shuffling footsteps
Desperately trying to be silent, covert,
Unheard.  
But the desperate desire for silence Causes such excitement  in the mind of the
Boy that the
Distinct sound of
Shuffling slippers is produced.
The boys realization of the noise Makes him
Giggle at his own sneakiness,
Too young to realize the sound means He's failed,
Young enough to have fun
Regardless.
I think of those giggles as i
Scratch at the itchy
Knot in my neck, a sharp
Contrast to the softness of cotton that I Feel everywhere else
The itch reminds me to pay attention,
Not get lost in those giggles
My hand quickly moving from my neck to the white porcelain bed
Balancing early morning sweetness That's about to be
Devoured
Bed warm and heavy now.
I set it on what I noticed for the
First time is also a
Tree.
I've never noticed how vital trees
Are to my morning.
That the last thought I'll have thats just
mine for hours.
From this point on all thoughts will
Revolve around the boy and his father,
My son and my husband
They walk towards me now
Together
Husband helps with the knot at my Neck
Untying it so I can take off the
Itchy apron and get back to
Enjoying the softness of my
PJ'S 's, my  
Son jumps into the chair and reaches For the bed of pancakes on a
Wooden table, starts to pour
Sticky sweet blood of a maple tree,
Far more syrup then he needs.
His father opens the dingy white door,
Experiencing that bright light and
cold air just like I did as
He reaches for the milk
I realize I can see the white porcelain of the plate;
I need to make more pancakes
I pour more batter into the hot skillet
Somehow that hiss catches me off guard again
Just like a bullet would again  
I shake my head and look back at the Table, them.
I walk over and kiss both of them
Both tasting like milk and syrup,
smelling like sleepy sweetness and
Looking like my Saturday morning

The end will come
When I'm done being
Broken,
When im done bathing in
Memories,
Done tasting an injured heart,
Throwing it back up.
The end will come

When I'm done

im  
flawed,
sick, can
feel it in
the heart of my head i
it's obvious to me, so clear
the heart of my head is so obviously not                       .         well
the scariest part of it all is that I can't even.       .        do anything about it.

Skin
Skin needs
Sun to give
Some life to my
Skin

it faded like slavery
but the screams will not.
not this time
not with this much
involvement
my body,  a strawberry

strawberry,  begging for fondue
slavery begging for an end
involvement is too exhausting
nor giving any relief,  so
much energy spent slowly,  as if dripping
time wasted

wasted time, wasted life, dipped in a bitter
fondue, unpleasant and messy
dipping of bitter lips until the bitter
end, *** empty,  needs washing, another
exhausting task, requiring to much
involvement, too much effort

Effort is what i can't give, I'm
bitter about that and angry. With too
much resentment, just growing inside me. More
messy baggage,
another issue, as if I don't already have enough. So im
bitter,  so what?

What difference does it make?
I'm to battered for repair,
I'm to exhausted for any attempt at anything

How is this possible?
Rejected by a website,
At least that's how I feel.
Not enough likes,  not enough messages.
But what else is new?  
It's been this way since I was a kid...

Insecurity, neediness
It's not very attractive.
Maybe it's time to grow up.

it will go like this
be both welcome and dreaded
slow sloppy confused
deliberate and final
that's how it will end with you