in better times, I remember I
began getting quite arrested, like
a ****** susp., by
Harmonía, which keeps serving
to this day as a source of both psychic sunlight
and real enjoyment (sometimes)
which is somewhat funny co[ɑ]mbined
with the fact it was a summer month I
started getting more in—volved in thI̲s diversion
summer twenty fourteen
which means she's something I have bE̲E̲n exploring
for... um... already more than
a decade, like rotten souls of autocratic rogues
["decayed"]
but it's a mite bigger story
given the fA̲ct I'd known
and been sort of into her some years before then
she can be so diverse, from natural
to artificial & including parts of both
plenty of heartbeat types & tempos
and vibes: from nice & mellow
to harsh & evil, from bright to dismal
from refined & regal to energized & feral
she can pep up automotive-buzz-replete strolls
she's there for you in times you feel low
and any kind of insult is something she won't
ever do, unlike a lo[ɑ]t of people; I can hardly be called
jolly, like a harlequin lo[ɑ]cked within walls
of a go[ɑ]ddamn mental
["Harley Quinn"; "Gotham"]
asylum, but I'm undisputably
glad there was an o[ɑ]pportunity
for me to be introduced to her
and all the gO̲O̲d 'bout her cited through the verse
is why I'm glued to her, like a woman's fourth
point of contact
["glutes o' her"]
not a single day of mine is thrO̲U̲gh sans her
but if you think I'm alluding to[—]wards
a close other, you have sure
misunderstood the verse (some of it)
[Unlike Pluto has a tune being, as it's stated by him, "a love song as a metaphor for alcoholism"]
[it's called "Ethel", which is a homophone for "ethyl"]
————————————————————————————————
for I'm not one with a people-oriented frame
of mind, but a music nerd
with a broad extent of taste
for music, but one whO̲ prefers
mostly middle-paced
and boomy forms
of it, such as midtempo bass
midtechno, EDM glitch hop, moombahcore
drift phonk "*******", like a *****'s brain
moombahton, & 2000s reggaeton
but some years ago, when old & new reports
of injustices of the human world
next to the discontent of daily adult-hood were serv—
—ing as ****** fuel in terms
of the ignition of the stupid urge
to get something (boo!) destroyed
to bring against injustice-contributing jerks retribution earned
a craze for more dark-sounding, brutal sorts
of tunes was formed as a substitution for
destruction, like any amusement's purp.
["distraction"; "purpose"]
along with music, another gO̲O̲d means for
getting through the murk
has been, like when a whip's coming thrO̲U̲gh keen curves
sideways with its wheels sliding through the course
of it, creative writing, putting words (mislead)
["creative riding"; "ᵖᵤᵗᵢⁿ words"]
into this seductive-looking form (indeed)
————————————————————————————————
and I really was thinking after the last-done work
(that killing joke tale)
that I won't manage to craft one more (usual thoughts)
took 3 & a half months burned (for the most part)
and the thought of o[ɑ]bligation to wha[ʌ]t's been saving
me from ending up in a darker place in
order to undertake an—other rhyme creation
(hopefully not the last one, but I can't be sure)

Mostly I sneak about under cover of night,
Fulfilling my awful aims away from broader sight,
For no one must suspect
The beast that dwells within their midst.

I am a master of concealment.
Smart and somber fabrics shield my skin
From the painful sear of daylight,
And my complexion, I keep like porcelain—
For no clean and delicate doll
Was ever suspected of reveling
In baths of hellfire.
This façade I employ lest the people discover,
And ****** before me their holy images,
Burning me as if with a branding iron,
And driving me far from their dwelling
Into solitary desolation.

For in truth, I am an agent
Of offense and pollution
To all that is wholesome and good.
I entice man to share my fate.
He invites me in and I infect him –
The Imago Dei – with Death.
Driven by this curse, this unholy hunger,
I live only to eat –
That is, if one could even say I live.
There is no glory, no beauty in this state.
My eyes are as gleaming stars
And my skin is as a moonbeam,
But the flesh beneath is always freezing,
Always cold and always screaming
In agonized starvation
For more of what makes it sick,
The only warmth it knows being gleaned
From the bodies of its meals.
A quietly blaring reminder to me
That I am the Dead walking.

This night begins as many before it.
My clothes blotted crimson with fresh sin:
The stain of another’s flesh.
The latest meal to leave me ill,
And yet more hungry still.
I tread the gray and lifeless streets,
My dead frame mustering no defense
Against the chill of night.
All is dark and still, as no sound, no soul,
And scarce a light the night gives
To interrupt the feast within –
The Hunger consuming all thought,
And the Cold consuming all feeling.
My spirit sends out a silent plea
For, if not some kinder release,
A second death.

My wandering stops before the chapel,
The only structure affording light or color
To Nyx’s bleak realm.
The candles and lamps still all alight
Send cascades of rainbows
Surfing down upon beams of gold
Through the glass mosaics
To the ground outside.
Something in this ethereal beauty
Grasped something in my soul.
I wished to crumble, to sob,
As I felt so alien from whatever it was
That infused this light to make it good.
Yet I wished to float, to hope,
As here it was, pouring down before me—
Onto me.

Looking in then from afar
Through the colored glass,
I saw behind the altar raised high
On his execution tree,
The image of the Lamb
With sorrow carved into His face
And wounds painted onto His side.
My eyes stayed fixed to that solemn sight
Till they ran with salt.
“They say You came
To make clean the Unclean,
To wash away every vile stain
That corrupts Your Image,”
Said I.
“They say You were sent
To ransom the Dead;
To free the captives
Of Hades’ rotten grip.
To bring bread and water
That ceases all thirst and hunger,
And gives Man second life.
Were You not?”

As the question left my lips,
I heard from around the corner
A creaking in reply.
Curiosity spurred,
I crept around to find
The doors an inch ajar,
With a widening sliver of golden light
Pouring forth from within.
Such a peculiar glow it was,
So pleasant yet so frightfully strange.
It did not burn,
But was rather as a balm,
Or a mild, warm rain.
There I stood for many moments,
Rendered motionless by a blend
Of paralytic fear and sedative calm
Until, carried on the streams of light
Came a gentle whisper to my ear
That spoke the sweetest, simple words:
“Dear wayward child, enter in.”

emitting a light
that is blinding

the faces of people
displayed and
multiple texts
swirled like a
fruit salad

the light it shines
is an act of artificial
prayer
a saccharine
heaven or
a bitter
hell

Like a bird with broken wings,
I look on with eyes full of envy
as all those around me take flight.
Held down by my own chains,
Left alone, aside from the emptiness;
The hollow realization
That something is missing,
But never knowing the slightest sense
Of what that something is.

Coughing,
grasping for walls
and promises I already broke.
Said I’d quit—
but tonight,
I wanted silence more than strength.

Panic hits,
then slips.
Your name dissolves
with every breath I steal from my lungs.
I wave off the world,
sink into smoke,
and call it peace.

One star streaks
across my high.
I don’t wish.
I just watch—
hoping morning forgets
like I finally did.

Drowning in your sorrows
Does it not make your heart feel hollow?
That feeling of emptiness once you finish that bottle and now your thoughts are more awful.
Your words bite me but yeah your message has been received.
Your tongue becomes toxic and your venom is making me grieve
Grieving for the mother that went astray, I wished the old you could've had stayed.
That sweet soul that is now out of control; now your heart is made out of coal.
Your eyes burn through mine as you scream and cry,  while you wait for me to give you a reply.
I have nothing to say except
I wish I didn't have to see my mother this way.

The first time,
You felt warm—
like hands on my shoulders
pulling me out
of my own mind.

You offered escape
in a form I could swallow.
You didn’t ask questions.
Didn’t care why I hurt.
You just promised I wouldn’t feel it.

And I believed you.

I let you in.
Again and again.
Until I forgot how to live
without you.

You were the only thing
that ever made it stop—
the noise,
the ache,
the weight of being me.
One hit,
and the world melted
into something I could finally survive.

I watched my life shrink,
choice by choice,
until all that was left
was the next high,
the next lie,
the next hollow nod toward nothing.

And when I ran out of money,
you ran out of mercy.
You left me alone
Empty
broken,
with no one but myself
and the thought of ending it all.

But the money ran out
long before the cravings did.
Withdrawals don’t care
about bank accounts
or promises.
They come like fire—
bones screaming,
skin crawling,
begging for your relief
in any form.

And so I did
what I swore I never would.

I laid down my worth
like loose change
and let strangers take what they wanted
in exchange for a high
that never lasted long enough
to forget what I’d done.

It didn’t feel like choice.
It felt like drowning,
like grabbing any hand I could
even if it pulled me deeper.

That was my rock bottom.
Not some dramatic fall—
just the quiet realization
that I had survived you

And somehow,
in the ruins,
I reached for help
instead of you.

Treatment didn’t fix me—
but it planted something
where you used to live:
hope.

Five years without you.

I clawed back from the edge
of the grave you dug for me.
I faced the rage you left behind,
the shame, the scars, the debt
you demanded in every breath.

And here’s the final blow:
I’m a paramedic now.
Despite the odds.
Despite your vendetta.
Despite the nights you tried to **** me.

I wear a uniform,
not to hide my past,
but to prove I survived it.
I carry Narcan on my back  
and hope in my hands.
I race into chaos
to save the ones you nearly stole—
because I know how precious
one more heartbeat can be.

I see your shadow in every overdose call,
in every lifeless face
I try to pull back from the dark.
You sit in the corner
while I force oxygen into their lungs
And push Narcan into their veins
smirking like the devil I once knew.
And I always say a big ******* I my head
When we get them back

Because you tried to **** me—
but I became a lifeline.

You almost had me.
But almost doesn’t count.

I’m still here.
And I am everything
you said I’d never be.

I'm an honest person for being your daughter
Which leaves me speechless sometimes,
Considering, it's you, who is my mother
All I ever wanted, all I ever needed, was your support
All I ever wanted, all I ever needed, was your love
All I ever wanted, all I ever needed, was for you to care
You're not the best influence for me,
and that's why I have to go as soon as I can
I have to go, far far far far far far away from you
There's just no getting through to you
I chose to be sober, I chose to be clean,
You choose to be addicted, and be forever mean
We are not one in the same, even if we share DNA
We are not one in the same, even if we have the same blood
I've tried throughout many years to get through to you
There's just no point, there's no use,
it's like talking to a **** wall
You're baggage is becoming too heavy,
and so now I'm choosing to let you fall
Because you are someone I can no longer be around
Every day you're trying to be an enabler
Every day you're trying to become a supplier
Every day you're trying your hardest to put me in the ground
And every day, I become more anticipated to break free
To break free from your voice, your sight, your touch, ugh,
Just to break free from you all around
This time, I'm not looking back, I can't fall back
I chose to be sober, I chose to be clean
I chose to do whatever it takes for me to be me
And to not be you, I don't want to feel numb anymore
I want to feel alive again, I want to be reborn
I want to feel the sun on my skin
I want to feel the wind beneath my wings
I want to do the things that I can't do when I'm around you
And it's because you make me feel, isolated, invisible,
That's what you have become to continuously do
I've told you multiple times I don't want to be popping pills
So stop fking asking me because I see red and the suddenly;
I get the urge to either hurt you, myself,
Or I get the urge to find something to ****
I escape this reality through my words,
so that I don't end up on the next 48
It just ***** so bad because
you're my mother who is spiteful
It just ***** so bad because
you're my mother who is broken beyond repair
I've tried too many times, I've wasted too many words
I've lost count of how many breaths I've taken
And now, I'm honestly to the point now, that I no longer care
You'll never know any of this, or how I truly feel
Because I can't be bothered enough to tell you to your face
I just know I'm going to continue to keep choosing to be sober,
And I just know that I'm going to continue to keep choosing to be clean
While you're already dying, because you're addicted and so mean
So what's it going to take? Isn't it already too late?
you'll soon find your resting place
You'll find it sooner rather than later;
because of the path you've chosen
The path that causes so much pain,
The path that causes so much hatred
The path that causes so much disgust and disgrace
I'm an honest person for being your daughter
Which sometimes leaves me speechless,
Because it's you, who is my mother.
Which really makes me wonder sometimes..
Am I… even really yours?


Stephanie A. Ludwig
04/18/2025