the run on

I could babble a billion half truths and half-assed associations about my life the way i see it now and life the way it's been seen before and i could sit here and talk about how my ranking on myspace doesn't mean a thing to me because im beyond that kinda crap or i can go on again about the gaping holes and whistling winds that run rampant in my soul or i could talk of the kittens under the deck and how i wonder about my right to give them a 'better' life but you know, we don't live in california where they could bask in the sun all day long all year long or i could talk, again, about my wellbutrin making me feel almost human again, especially when im driving and listening to the disco station, or i could talk again about my flowers or i could talk again about my angst, my aunts, my fat, my cat, my traumas or my past, i can talk about the bluebirds or the bunnies forever in my life, i could talk about the poets that almost seem to understand me even tho they turned to dust hundreds of years ago or i could talk about family, my daddy, my momma, i could talk about depression, cancer, attachment, detachment, anger or pain... or dragons, even, or wood nymphs, or the spirits of people or trees or of the earth, or i could talk about you even, maybe, if i know you at all, and i could talk about walking away or choosing to not, or choosing to run, or choosing to stop, and i could even talk about refried beans or elephant ears or ice skates or oranges or self care or free radicals or free speech or puppies or birkenstocks or hair

but really i just wish right now

to sit quietly

and be calm

and be happy-ish maybe

because for a moment im not dwelling

or analyzing

or pondering my regrets and

for this moment i'm just breathing

and listening to the rain.

shattered

Every night it's a new scenario. Last night she was driving my truck and crashed into an electric pole, I pulled her out and carried her from the burning truck. Her face looked into mine. I can still feel her in my arms. She was going to be okay... I can still feel her in my arms.

The night before the doctor's did it.. found a cure, healed her..

I know I'm obsessed.

I know it's unhealthy.

I know I should get over it.

I know I need to live.

I know I have to accept what i don't accept.

I just want to lay down and melt into the dirt. I just want to become one with the soil. I just want to evaporate.

Her freckles came out on my arm somehow. I never had freckles before. Except maybe one, here or there...

I think I wasn't finished, becoming a human, I wasn't ready to be on my own.

Why the hell am I like this? So angst ridden? It's an old, old story... the dying thing. it's not unique.. parents die. people die. We lose people we love.. they go away. There are no answers. It's the human condition, or, the living/breathing being condition. I learned it early with kittens and bunnies and snakes and mosquitoes.. I did cry for them, too, of course.. even the mosquitos. And it felt really, really bad then.. but i was a child. I'm not anymore and It still feels so overwhelmingly sad to me. I understand that people die. I get it. I get it. I get it. I really do.

But she wasn't suppose to die.

At all.

Ever.

She was suppose to get old. Her hair was suppose to turn grey, and then white. She was suppose to see her great grand babies. She was suppose to come visit me and go to the zoo with me. We were suppose to plant flowers together. We were suppose to go see Bye Bye Birdie for Mother's Day. Life was suppose to be good. The sun was suppose to continue to shine on her face just like it shines on mine.

Her laughter chased away my tears.

We watched Schreck II together. The last movie we watched.. the last time we went out. The day I almost dumped her from the wheelchair, but then caught her at the last minute. The day she ordered the cinnamon roll she couldn't eat. The day she said, let me buy.. the day she held my hand under the table.

a month before she died.

before they burried her.
and her eyelids closed over her emerald speckled eyes
for the last time

and yes
i think i am depressed

and yes
the she would want me to live

but last night i held her
and felt her in my arms
and heard her voice
and saw her face

and now im broken all over again

burnt out

so this whole work thing, the working til midnight at 1 am, i think it's finally getting to me... this morning i thought maybe i'd cracked. i've been on time all week, but today it went something like this...

7:00: ::ring ring:: "huh?" ugh... ineed more sleep....

7:30 i look at the clock... and go back to sleep...

7:45 i look at the clock and think, five more minutes...

8:00 i haul my ass out of bed and into the shower... get dressed.. and think...

8:15 "i could go for some raisin bran".. i find a bowl, find a spoon, find some raisin bran.. eat it.. turn on the tv...

8:45 get totally engrossed in little house on the prarie...

9:00 think.. oh shit, i'm suppose to be at work...

9:15 almost out the driveway, i remembered i brought my wallet in the house and i needed it - on the way in, i notice my iris bloomed...

9:30 still staring at my irises... got lost in thought.. staring at them...

9:40 weeding my irises.. there were pigweeds all over...

9:45 went in to wash my hands, and remembered i was suppose to find my wallet, and go to work...

10:00 fed nibbler a little snack... finally found my wallet in the kitchen under a bag of limes...

10:15 back on the road...

10:30 at work...

and here i am at 9:16 with hours to go in front of me. I'm tired as shit.

but it was nice, at least, spending time with my irises...

ramblings

i've had no time to post
i've had no time to think or write
i've had no time for nuthin'
except a little tv, thanks to tivo, late late at night

my sister called me just now
because dad is not doing well
i dont know what to do
because, truth be told, there's nothing to do

i said to my dad
i don't know, maybe it's time to pray
and he said
yeah, look where that got us the last time we tried it

hahahahaahhaha hahahahaha oh god
we shouldn't laugh at that
but....
hahahahahahahhaahhahahahahahahha

the last time, by the way, was circling my mom
with the pastor, before she died

and why am i laughing?

because irreverence makes shitty things funny
and i guess i get that from my dad

but i don't suppose I'll do much praying
because it doesn't seem to work

and it feels like begging
and im not gonna beg any more
ever
the time for that has passed
if there ever was a time for that

and i'm not saying there's not a God
how on earth could I know that?

but i am saying that trying to bargain
trying to plea
trying to ask nicely
doesn't really get the job done

in fact, it never seems to end well, at all

when i saw my mom, as she slipped from this world to the next
she was smiling, her hair was blowing,
she was radiating joy joy joy from every bit of her
glowing really, so very happy, so much relief
i could feel the relief with every ounce of me

but there weren't any angels, that i could see
with golden harps or scrolls with lists of names

so i don't suppose i'll have these answers til I get there myself

but im so scared for dad

because i think we're a lot alike

and i don't blame him a bit, if he has to excuse himself from this world

although i hope he doesn't

because it's so hard
so hard
SO HARD
to let go
and im so not ready to be all alone

and i think he can find reasons to live
and even as i say this i doubt myself
because the price is right and sugar free jello
just isn;t enough

i can't imagine it being enough for anyone,
but i know it isn't enough for him
because, you know, we're a lot alike