and you kept talking
and weeping
and telling me how sad you were
how you destroyed our family
how you can't believe you've done all the things you did
how all you want is your family back
you said this with tears in your eyes
tears falling down your face
and i looked at our son
closed in the back seat of your truck
dimple caving into his sweet smiling cheek
clueless, deaf to the words spilling out of  your mouth
you said you think i tune out at times
tune out when you're talking about these important, meaningful things
things you keep talking about, ranting about
and i looked again at our son, dimp-ly smiling in the back of the truck
so i put a red trader joe's bag over my head
tuned completely out
did a little dance
waved goodbye to darling little Tanner
tuned out until the next time
tuned out and walked away

it isn't like you didn't know, ash and coal spilling from your mouth
like a stone pit the day after a campfire; cold, dead, acrid, gray
but still you want to pry it out of me
reach deep down into my throat
you know i protect it there
too painful to release
but you pry and you never know when to stop
and you never know when enough is enough
bright red stop signs
neon red lights
you waltz right through them
charm your way past
nothing deters, and so i curl up again
a tight, miniature rosebud
vulnerable, tiny thorns
your over-sized hands tear right through
you tear through
and your tearing through breaks me
it breaks it all

my legs were a vee
your fingers were searching
like they had eyes of their own
and you drove too fast
the vodkas intoxicating us
lust created an immortal shell
the san francisco bay misting our windows
i tasted its salt on your lips
your legs were a vee
and my fingers had eyes of their own
we transported to a place
you and i know
but very few know
and our fingers still have eyes of their own

cotton batting fills my frontal lobes
i'm too dry to weep
you charge at me
your head a mallet
your fists restrained hammers at your sides
"you getting ready to go out?"
you say
my eyes are soul-less, flat and gray
as I turn to you
my jaw opens, then closes
opens and closes
words weave in and out of the cotton batting
and stick there
"you getting ready to go somewhere?"
you say
flames fill my chest and the words are pushed and spill out
in monotone, with mercury dripping down my face
i say
"i'm going to visit my son in the mental hospital."
pause
my face, a classic flat-effect,
"you know this and why are you making me say this out loud?"
the sharp angles of the letters slice my throat
and more mercury drips
and acid fills the back of my throat
my eyes are soul-less, flat and gray
and you glare sharp blades at me
wrapped in a silicone shell of your narcissim
"you look like you're getting ready to go out somewhere."
you say
chrome glazing over  your eyes, over your heart
with that, the cotton batting fills more space
my soul-self doubles over in pain
and with that
the side of me that lived for you
died

psychosis
psychotic
words i once was frightened by
now i'm touched by
physically felt by
wondering when i'll be brushed by them again
a child with a mind turned completely backwards
it must be your fault, he says
you must be one pretty messed up mother to have a child like me, he says
maybe
just, maybe
he
is
right

day-lily at night
just before the crack of dawn
neo-soft petals
curled up
hesitantly
unraveling
undulating
as i unfold
in the muted sunstream
gently awakening
to the world
with soft sighs
and quiet hopes for the day

lie to me
like you do
so beautifully
I'll believe
because I want to believe
draw the lacy-love-shades
over my knowing eyes
for a little while longer
it's easier to go on believing
than to face the piercing
awful
truth

poetry isn't love
true poetry isn't false love-words
poetry is the ugly, folded in with the beauty, entwined with the sordid, enveloped by the twisted, laced with light and dewy pontifications on what life and love want to be, sometimes are and more often, will never be.
enough with your over-the-top, Shakespearean dronings-on...tell me how you really feel.

running, raging, store to store
buying, selling, getting more
more and more to give and get
deeper, deeper into debt
false smile here, fake laugh there
****-santa in a chair
"merry christmas, tom and sue!"
what i really mean is, "*******!"
frenzied music fills the air
blinking lights, garrish stars
liquor, beer to soothe the scars
soon it will be over
this mad rush
happy holidays, from this jaded lush!

Always on the surface
just on the edge
ready to spill
over
emotions always boiling
bubbling
churning
strong ocean waves
spinning
coiling
curling
waiting
must hold them in
deep in
hide
protect
so noone sees
always hiding them
so noone sees
my secret