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Another morning, another day
I wake before the alarm.
The pressures, my stress
deprives me of the rest I need--
just to get through it all.

The rays of the new morning
slowly make their way in
transforming the room from dark to shadows.
I catch a silhouette of you,
lost in your peaceful slumber.
Such a perfect juxtaposition
revealing to me that I have been blessed
through it all.

I remember the young girl
her golden hair, the innocent touch
whose eyes once saw in me--her future.
Though I tried, time and time again
to wreck that dream-- you held on--
through it all.

The scene takes me back, to the expecting mother
so peaceful in her sleep, bravely ready to become
what I so feared I could never be.
While I struggled to become the man, the father,
you needed and deserved me to be.
I knew it would take your love--
to get me through it all.

Now those blessed gifts,
each containing the better parts of both of us
are starting to make their own way
while I'm still stumbling to make my own.
My fears for them collide
with the compiling stress of my day to day
and I find myself again awake before dawn.

On another morning, on another day
with the same silhouette reminding me--
We'll get through it all.

Joey Jones
I don't hate you
I fear you

and you make me stay by
teaching me that

to love is to fear and
to fear is to love
Stop holding me back for once,
see the fire burning in every ounce
of scribbles and words of mine.
Stop making me guilty for my flight,
and look into the horizon so bright.
Stop making me resent your roof,
while all this time you stay aloof.
Stop shaming me for someone's fault,
and let them go into the devil's vault
of sins, see the virtues in me that I lock
from the fear that you might tear and block.
Stop thinking my life for your honour,
and save this human in me from this horror.
Stop it, with your words that shatter my esteem
and do make me drift away from your team.
Stop the assumptions from the lores of the devil,
and look into my dreams arranged in levels.
Stop it , Stop it, Stop it,
When will you feel words I write
and stop linking insanity with my fight.  
Stop it
STOP
The clouds poured that day
When my mother took me in the church
I kneeled in front of a porcelain Mary
Who glared down in righteousness
So full of herself, i thought.

She should be a figure of strength
A warrior even, made by her virginal status
But you are still porcelain, I snarled
A slight push
And to pieces you go.

In the fear of the Divine
I confessed my sins
Her smile still cold and smirk like
Laughing ay my earthly worries
Dismissing my lonely sorrow.

I looked up again in pain and anger
Smothered by fear and angst
To be met with my mother’s face
Who stood in porcelain
Looking down in righteousness.
there is a pain
so quite particular
that it seems as if
there could be no other

not to compare to this one
when despite your very best
of efforts, you fall short, and
whether deserved or not, whether
based on bad information or bad actors

despite all of these things and many more
the pain to have the person or people you
love most dearly in the world, whether they
love you or not it makes no difference, that
these dearest and most cherished have made
it known so clearly and loudly that they really
don't like you very much, that I am unlikable
and it's not as if I haven't tried, God knows I
have put in the work, and it doesn't just happen,
it takes work, step work, awareness of the moment
I am in, not in one past or a possible future, I've
tried, and am still unliked, so where can I even
go from... from that, what direction can I take
when I cannot change what makes me me?
addiction, fully and completely, has taken my daughter away, my only child, 29 but despite all efforts otherwise, she still feels like my l'il gal. the first thought and feeling of the day jolts me out of those first hazy imaginings before fully waking, now my only sliver of peace. it was all a very long time in the making but still feels like the worst breakup X an order of magnitude, and she may never be back. and there is absolutely nothing more I can do to try to even change that, my l'il gal is out on her own, a daddy's girl minus the daddy, and all I can do now isive a life worthy of what I have yet to give, and make  sure I will be the safe, secure and loving place to land if she ever gets serious about getting sober and clean.

man, how precious those moments just upon waking, those sole moments of peace, before, "oh, that's right... ****", and the anxiety and sorrow are then just constant until exhaustion takes me sometimes 30 or 40 hours later. i dont know how long I can live like this, but i'm still grieving and it's a time to be gentle with myself, this biggest ever loss in life will take a lot of getting used to... but I know what i need to do and to be, and and i will, and i am, because I will never, ever stop being her dad.

I want this to end, this filling of every moment with a shock and a jolt, over and over without losing intensity, of the realization that she's out of my life for now, maybe forever, while i'm wearing out our old photo albums. and I miss you my brittany b.
Jessi Sep 3
Hope and Hate are both four letter words.  

So how do I teach my son which one to believe in, when every day brings a brand new story on the news about police murdering another person who looks more like

Me than they do like Him?

Especially when I’m not sure myself.
haya Jul 20
He's broken.
So broken.
He hadn't lost a parent.
But he is further from her than he was before.
The other is transparent.
Unhealthy habits.

Transparency has unhealthy habits.

Him.
A spitting image of his father.
Unhealthy ways of dealing with negative emotions.
He's throwing a tantrum now.
He can't handle it.
His rage filling up, consuming him.
He has justified it; not hearing nor seeing the logic others use to rationalize his feelings.
On the outside, he is definitely a toxic person.

One of those types of kids you should never befriend.

Toxic, indeed.
But not only to others, making fun of them and being bitter.
But to himself.
So young,
yet he thinks his intellect outmatches societies',
his maturity cannot be matched,
he is misunderstood,
he is one in a million.
He is not.

He is among the many regular people who carry a facade.
Shifting into somebody else whenever he cannot get what he wants

Perhaps,
this is because he can't handle his new life?
He was never like this before.
Perhaps,
his brain created personalities for him, for whatever each situation requires it.

So fragile, so sensitive.
Been through so much anguish.
So much pain.

And his mind could not withstand the transparency's abuse.
That same transparency that cannot understand him.
Made him hate the world and believe he was hated back.

He is a lost soul.
Underneath his manipulative, two-faced facade, there is a small child.
An underdeveloped mind.
That lacks power to process emotions correctly.
Numb, unfeeling of empathy.

At a time where puberty arises,
and the stress of a mistreating new life,
he has no freedom.
He feels as trapped as his sister.
She has people to confide in.
He does not.

He is alone.

Alone in his head.

His mother, he needs her. In so many ways.
His mental state is unstable.

He needs her.

Every time the cruel transparency strikes its manipulation,
nowhere to run.

Not allowed to process, not allowed to act,
if the little boy cries in retaliation, he will be awarded a slap.

Showing emotion means being dealt with more abuse.

Endless
Endless
It is endless
he wants it to stop.

unanswered cries for help.

but circumstances show that he'll be in it for a long time.
His gender,
is causing his anguish.
His age,
is causing his anguish.
His family,
is causing his anguish.
His existence,

is the bane of his anguish.

Maybe he's right, he is not a normal person.
He isn't allowed to be.

he is broken.
So broken.





and our family doesn't believe in therapy.
Written on December 25, 2017, 10:32 PM at a cousin's birthday party.
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