You weren't seen
in my blind spot
too old so young
perfect ink blot
no trouble at all
self absorbed dad
in and out of lust
edge of mind mad.
you were a rock
in my slaughter
never faltered
first Daughter.

Our sacred backstair lust
diamond turns to dust.

I steal your words
rearrange them
everything I write
becomes a Hymn.

When I wake again
I've lived too long.
Another day in prison.
My life is really gone.

I slit my wrist a million times with pieces
of the broken heart's razor sharp deflections
in my attic room Penthouse desire increases
illusion of an endless tunnel of reflections.
mirrors on walls showed me every angle
my naked drunken midnight freedom dance
with my Irish too small little dangle
always chasing the mirage of desert romance.

Just an afterthought
I ruined their lives
lost in haze of wine
club of my ex wives.

Mixed messages can be confounding
   but if looked at through an alcohol
   filter they can be deciphered as if
   spoken in clear and precise language.

   Passive aggressive onslaughts are hell
   disguised as innocent comments. Clever
   warfare that has plausible deniability.
   Be vigilant and you can discern it.

   Manipulation uses ills often; migraines,
   back and/or neck pain, depression and the
   mother who visited her madness upon you.
   The first marriage tore holes in you.

   I married a 1 who became a 10. What can
   I do? signed Desperate. Dear Desperate,
   You can become a 10 or find another 1 and
   hope the new 1 will not become another 10.