I met the other in laws today,
And I registered how strongly I can blend,
Into the wallpaper.

It was only his grandmother that noted my quiet
Reactions.
And she wasn't sympathetic, rather just a tip of the cap.

I spoke, even quietly, and her eyes were on mine.
I suppose the 40s weren't kind, and she wasn't brave.
I don't delude myself into bravery, But!

I have an odd temper.
See, I'm hopefully past the age of worrying about
abortions
Yes I said it, boohoo.
It's the topic.

I don't care if you need it.
That's inbetween you and your doctor.
I know that its not only me alive on this earth.

I am incredibly unselfish when it comes to the fairer ***.
Because it could have easily been me.

It could have been me.
With no where to go,
Law on my back.

And I'm lucky, thrice!
Not only would the father agree, but also my own parents.
If I asked.

But...I'm lucky.
That's the point of law.
You shouldn't have to be lucky.

Be still, sweet girl.
But do not linger.

Feel the ebb and flow
Of your chest filling with
soft, sweet, hunger.

And then let it go.
Don't let your mouth open
just to say hello.

Let it all go.

I think there are some
relationships which were doomed.
Doomed before you'd even begun.  

Some that you should not
have jumped so quickly
at the chance to be loved.

Some relationships where you
should have become friends
before lovers.

Maybe then you'd realise that
you were better off
Friends.
Strangers.
Alone.

I realise I've been in a gloom, a fog you can't lift.
I apparently won't let you, especially as I slept.

I seemed to have worn my own experiences, feelings, injuries-I thought I wore them like a badge of what I've overcome.

I was wrong.
I'm sorry that when you stopped me from bashing my head on a nightstand,
I repaid you in not only attempting to claw your eyes out,
But also the thrashing about, kicking you in your intimates.
I am especially sorry for wrapping my hands around your throat and trying to choke you.

You see, this you that I know and love and find comfort in.
He does not suddenly appear to save me from what has already happened to me.
I was out of options then.
Fight or flight, those were it.
And I picked fight.

Each night it seems I lose and I feel worse in the day.
I tried to stop him,
I kicked
I clawed
I even, actually, attempted to choke him,
But my hands were too small.

I was too small.
I feel powerless.

So now, consciously I make due with the cards I've been dealt.
I have no passion.
No fight.
I once walked through the fire. willingly and yet,
I feel nothing. I see the emotion. I mimic it.
But I am hollow now.
I have nothing anymore, lately.

So please, give me something to sing about.

Sometimes I remember when
An Ill given price of advice
Given to a child
Popped up in the wrong place, yet right heart.

I often wonder how my kids are doing now.
If their teacher ever acknowledged my way
Less if they even took it in stride.

I was logical, efficient.
I explained the madness to my method.
They got it.
They listened.

I listened to bullies,
To the misunderstood angry kids,
The undesirables, I guess.

I accepted bullies as newbies
Listeners as helpful advisors
Class clowns as young leaders.

Every child had its equal and right place
In my room.

They may have stumbled on their journey to righteousness.
But their stumbles were my praised steps.
Each hesitant one to glory.

They were still all my kids,
I took care to notice and observe the dynamics.
I hope they're okay.

I just really hope they're all okay.
I really really hope my kids are okay.

I can feel myself getting
scared, you know?

Not that I'm scared of you,
or of us

But that I'm getting scared
of what I'm going to do
when I can't turn around and see you.

I don't want to feel like
the core of my soul
dropped out from under me
just because you're a
couple thousand miles away.

I need this distance.
I need to push away from you.
Just a little.

I need to feel whole again
and I'm sorry for that.

I really am.

Not only was I a kindergarten teacher,
But hey!
Guess what?
Your preschoolers teacher
Can't live off what they pay her.

So I had yet another job,
This was ontop of my other job as a tutor.
So I guess a third job?

Seriously, your kid's teachers are paid for *****.
It's a miracle they haven't
Hired serial killers at this rate.

Regardless, I ran a tight ship.
It was technically a democracy,
Except I held the power of infinite vetoes.

Like starting a fire with a microscope,
Vetoed.

Sitting and standing on top of tables with ***** shoes,
Then eating ontop of said tables.
Hard veto.

Lets play with a bunch of sharp forks, and stab each other.
Also a veto.

Gosh, I'm now a dictator and they're going to get their
Mommy and daddy to fire me.
Also vetoed
After a series of explanations on how it works.

Your 10 year old?
Yeah, the one full of manners and good sense??
Your kid's teacher is what keeping your kid alive.
You're welcome.

At first, I judged you.
Unfairly.

Afterall, society taught me
those who employ
Militancy.
Hurtful.
Disorderly.

Tactics

Those wouldn't be
Deservong
Of the right to
Liberty
Freedom
Justice.


Then j realised something
I am female
It is genuinely, literally
Only
Because of me
And my kind
That you exist.

Then I realised  men
Men who were born from us
People
Who are only possibly of us


You literally cannot live without us
You power comes from us.

So therefore,
Shouldn't your mother be paid the same as a man?
Shouldn't your sister get itM
5as I'd she were a man?

You burned shops and people because it's a shame, but men only react to an emotion

So we must terrorise the men.
Or else, we won't survive

Black or white
The rivers have had their fun

They've finally done it.
Your countrys waters are murky.

They have torn it all asunder.
Muddling the waters with red
Poisonous elements to ensure
You are blind.

Child or not
I am blind too.

I wish I weren't.
I wish I was removed.
I had enough of the bloodshed for
Race and religion in Yugoslavia.

Your words will turn empty
They will fail on the deaf
Fall off the angry shields
And fists.
They always do.

But
Maybe you'll be the lucky ones
Maybe the system you fight for support
Will actually turn around for you.

I wish I could be Switzerland
I wish I'd never come to the U.S.
People here are just as terrifying
As they were at home over 20 years ago.

But I'm not a child anymore
So I can't use that excuse not to be involved
But, I'm scared.

I wish I could just go home instead.
Witnessing the history of violence
Taught me that it doesn't solve
It only angers more and more and more.

We lay in bed at 4 AM,
planning out the future with
giggles and warmth.

Theres stories of
our  childhoods.

Full of rosy cheeks
and the stupid mistakes
we made inbetween the sheets.  

But our favourite story of mine
is how we couldn't realise
that we were
so close
and yet so far
from that stupid happily ever after.

I feel like I'm running towards
An ever moving finish line
And yet
This is how I learned to say no.

I won't apologise
And wonder why not

I won't lose sleep over it

And I'll smile

Then shut my eyes as you cut
My knees out from
Under me.

This is just how I learn to say no,
I'd rather hold my breathe for forever.

This one starts a little...
Strange.

One night,
I was washing my car,
Just getting rid of the pollen
And self-pity I had suppressed
For 3 weeks of quarantine

I'd just picked up the hose,
Just to wash off the dirt, the impurities
When my dog gave a quiet warning

I paused, holding a running hose
She didn't often give these
Except to me

Only to me
When she couldn't reach me
And she was worried for me

So of course I glanced at her
And she looked, exasperated
At best.

Like she couldn't believe
She'd ever considered the possibility
That I could be out in the dark by myself

But when I turned,
I couldn't see anything.
It was too dark.

But,
She could and she barked

So,
I turned again and spotted
A hint of light in our neighbours doorway
Just across the street

Somehow I felt eyes on me
And I let my light go out
Not without noticing that she was just as

Exasperated as before
Like a mother that couldn't believe
Her kid just tried to lick the wall, again

I casually turned off the water in the dark
And started up the stairs when she barked
The hair stood up on my arms.

It wasn't playful, it wasn't nice.
It was a warning, either to me or others, I didn't know
But she was about to jump the fence
And I knew her instincts well enough
that it wouldn't be good.

But then my partner opened the back door
Checking on me as I stepped onto the back porch
And she herded me indoors,
Granting a few glances across the street.

Somehow, I didn't find myself wallowing
In self-pity anymore.
I genuinely forgot a whole 3 weeks of it.

Instead I focused on the fact that my own dog
Had not only alerted me
But that shed somehow alerted my partner
While shuffling me inside with a chiding look.

I wait for you to see what you've done.  
I wait for you to speak.
You do.

But you don't acknowledge me.

You go at your own leisure,
Don't you?

I am blinded.
I scream, and shout.

But I only destroy what was.

I can't take the reins,
But I can no longer wait.

I am calm
Most of the time.

I will have many
Questions about basically everything.

I have questions about race
Orientation
Sexuality

For instance, I am Bi
And yet I do not pray upon
Everything I see.

Instead I am quietly defending myself
Mentally.
Sometimes, physically.
A man come too close and I just,
Just shove. I shove as hard as I can

I refuse to feel powerless again.
They shouldn't have gotten so close
Indecent
I'd be a harlot
Jezebel
Since it's always my fault.

I am abrasive now.
I'm curious now.
I'm barely free now.

I ask questions to learn
Yet I am running
I am running from the memory
The memory of my inner child's ******.

I said no
And yet
I had no choice.

It happened anyway.


I never said yes.

Just as,
Your medals will dull.
Your statues will crumble to dust.

Just as,
Your lungs fill with your last breath.
Your skull will empty after death.

Your words will fall away into nothing.
You'll be forgotten.

After all,

Didn't you know?

Darkness looks the same on everyone
once you're consigned to oblivion.

Smite. Fight.
I find myself angry at me.
I hope you're happy.
This thought strikes me often-
I want to crucify you.

Well done.

You've forced me to resort to relying on my old self.

I sincerely hope you've achieved the effect you wanted.

Tick-Tock
          Let me show you your clock
                  Tick-Tock
                        So many hours I've hacked off
                          Tick-Tock
                             Oh no. You've gone and wasted it with all that balk.

I have
Many voices
Telling me
About the people I see.

Their words are
like pollen
Spreading within the winds
Clogging your lungs.

He's cheating on his wife
I wonder if I should tell her?
No. That's impertinent.

Of course,
She's lying about her mother
I can't mention that.
No, you can't.

So I sit.
Watching.
Tracking.
Logging.

I'm not autistic,
Nor psychotatic.
Or sociopathic.

I merely have a knack
For noticing and noting
Patterns.

We humans are habitual,
Those that aren't should be avoided!
You're right.
They're dangerous.

For you see,
I may feel love
But they don't

And if your only weakness is
You lack of emotion
Then you're a predator too.

But, I don't want to hurt anyone
Or rather
I don't want to hurt anyone
That doesn't hurt me and mine first.

Me and mine being
Me, myself and I
As well as those that
Control my feelings.

So while a predator
may recognise another
that doesn't mean you are one too.
No.

It may just mean you're diligent.
Vigilant, even.
You care for your loved ones.
Becsuse they are your weakness.

But if I didn't have
Loved ones
Family.

I'd be a threat too, right?
You're far too easy to track
Tsking the same road home Everyday.

I don't want to hurt.
I want to be meaningful.

I know that I do not walk alone.
There are so many people
That have walked alongside me
these past years.

But I also know that
each step I take
is on hallowed dirt.

My heavy feet strut
upon the heads of freshly
laid corpses.

They are the bodies  
of those that felt the
need to sacrifice for me.

Weary backs carry me
thru the fog.
Gnarled oaken fingers point
towards my goal.  

And away I go
Plodding atop legs
which once leapt
bounds around me.

When you take away
The Sick
The Broken
The Hurt
The just Barely making It

What am I supposed to be now?

Please.
I need to know.

There is a hole
Where there ought to be more.
One huge fishbowl

I often relate to the glorified
punch-bowl

You can find me anywhere.
At your average party.
I'm just jungle-juice.

Everyone, hear hear.
Take a scoop of my soul
It's just liquid love

In fact, it's free for the taking
So please,
Give it a squeeze.

Try it.
You might even like it.

One huge alcofall
It's a bit of a saccharine
Taste.

It fades and the seconds we take
Are revolting.
But so rewarding.

I asked him what I did wrong
I want to learn how to be better
More effective
More efficient

I want to
Make me perfect

I was told that I'm
too cold
Too professional
And unfortunately my physical characteristics
Make me look incredibly mean.

I couldn't deny him
Since I literally made the conscious decision
That I'd be exactly all of those things.

Except mean.
Kinda had that done for me, I guess.
Thanks dad.

When I was younger
I once read a book,
That somehow connected with me.

It was bought by my mother
And
It was aptly named, What My Mother Doesn't Know

I'm quite sure my mother knew
Atleast most of what I was up too.
And I was all the better for it.

I still have the book,
I think I'll give it to my own child one day.

I saw words pass by,
So quickly
Fluidly,
Practiced.

All across the TV screen.
Talks of how enough was enough with the apartheid.
And at first I was confused-so I observed.

After a minute towards a month,
I noticed the ending of a sentence started by black
That was ended by white tongue

And I felt a twitch come on.
I gritted my teeth and thought
"It is not yours to say enough."

Wool.
It's so constricting.
Binding.
You could pull
       scream
           cry.
Yet.
It'll never give you a moment's weakness.

I am wrapped in wool.
     Legs.
      Arms.
All wrapped round and round
      in my own yarns.

Round and round we go,
stitches pulled so tightly,
I can never rest.

I am invincible.

The term "*** worker" holds the same definition as
The term "worker" to me.

A supply met a demand,
And yet as she blushed in humiliation
When I stepped out to toss trash,

She was embarrassed holding a laundry hamper
Despite the fact that I came out bearing
A Mickey mouse shirt too large, swallowing up my shorts, and a rattling bud light box.

I merely smiled and bowed my head in greeting,
While she seemed to defeat reason in her explanations.
She could have just said laundry-the most literal thing.

Instead she floundered nervously but my face seems to have that effect.
So I shrugged.
She floundered further.
I blinked and nodded again with a smile and turned for the stairs.

All the while I pondered,
Why not just say it when all her clients walked by me
Every day.

I have developed a sense of self
That is solid.
It is dense.

Packed with years of
Abuse-not by my parents
But by people I willingly
Chose to surround myself with.

My sense of self
Is strong
It cannot be attacked.

But I often wonder if it is
Wrong.

The story goes that Vincent Van Gogh once tried to eat yellow paint because he wanted to feel yellow inside-that yellow was happiness. He drank turpentine and tried to eat some of his paints whilst in Saint-Rémy. But, if you read his letters-he wasn't trying to be yellow inside-he wanted to die.

Yellow, I think, would taste sharp and nutty.

It'd hurt you but,

It'd grab all of your attention at once
and coil round your tongue.
It'd choke you.

Not everyone can appreciate the curse of being undeniably captivating but distasteful for its own overtures.

Yellow is like biting into ruccola or cracking open hard sunflower seeds with your teeth. It stings at first but as soon as it's gone you want to recapture the feeling by trying again and again.

It's never the same.

I know that you're just a dog
But every time you whine,

My ears perk up.
In the most peculiar way.

I like to call it,
My offical
Mom-spidey-sense.

It's how I know which whine
Means what.

It's how I know when,
Your teeth hurt
You want to play
You need water
You just want to snuggle.

I know you're just a dog.
But, God.
I wish you were human.

If you weren't just a dog.

Well then,

I wouldn't have
To watch you waste away.

Yes, so I'm told.
a new job, you loved the idea
Yes.
you must be excited, right
Sure.

You see I meet every new change with a sense of
Just complete, utter
Dread.

It fills me.

It by it's own existence,
Allows me to see all I might not like in 3 weeks,
When the new has worn off.
And all within 3 days.

You'll know it's a good fit when the dread files off
But only after a few days.

It's my system.
It has literally never failed.

You said you
Wanted to talk to me tonight
So I'm sorry I rolled over
Without giving a ****.

You said you
Wanted to tell me something
So I guess I should be sorry
I didnt pay you any attention.

Sometimes I just want to
Do
What I want to do.

Even if that means
Cutting you off
From some stupid
Heartfelt speech
Of love or other
Childish fancies.