Why not Wednesday?

A note to those I have demonized

I no longer put myself in your shoes
I hardly see you as human

Your perspective is different than mine
and although I have the ability to see your side
I refuse to, for you do not attempt to see through my lens

My struggles become greater than yours
and I block out your troubles – big and small
You cannot suffer as I do

How fortunate you are! I see your wealth
and I see how easy things are for you
You do what you want, when you want
with little regard for my interests or even my
NEEDS

I do not empathize with you
You have created your life around you
You have control and power over your SELF
and if you are in a bad situation –
it has been brought on by your
poor decisions and lack of wisdom

You do not seek my help
and I avoid your input
You have poured toxic waste
into my habitat creating cesspools
of misery in my ecosystem
drowning my vigor and smothering my
ESSENCE

I am contaminated by you

I wear goggles when I am around you
that preserve my eyes while altering my vision
of YOU

You scare me

I no longer trust you
and I have felt for some time
that you do not trust me

A bond is broken

I no longer understand you
I no longer attempt to
You do not attempt to understand me
You do not see me as I am

You don’t hear me

Or is it that you don’t listen?
Communication has malfunctioned
The repairman is out for the day,
for the month, the year

I don’t know how to fix it

Or I refuse to fix it

I am tired of bending
I feel I have broken in so many places
I feel that I have attempted
to build a bridge between us
and that you have set it on fire

I am sensitive

I cut the bonds with those who hurt me
My skin is thin
I cannot take your criticism
I think you give it without consideration
of my ABILITIES, my TALENTS, my STRENGTH
I feel you give it unsolicited
I feel you judge me
and I will not hesitate to fight
fire with fire

I have judged you

I have condemned you

If you were a building
I would not enter

If you were a bed
I would not lie there

If you were a meal
I would not partake

If you were salvation
I would burn in HELL

You are a living demon
and if I have not cut you
out of my life yet…

I will.

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to speak and not say

To harness a thought in
only a few words.
To end abruptly a story
which never really stops.
This, shall always be my struggle
as I long to speak without
ever really saying stuff
and yet never stopping talking:
syllables upon syllables
of marshmallow fluff.

Rainy Day

The soil churns around my feet
The muck, it pulls me down
I have my shovel firm in hand
And dig past green and brown.

I keep digging – hole or grave
or maybe tunnel of escape? –
But with no plan, I cannot see
through the earth I do reshape.

Each particle of damp dirt here,
clings tight to my damned clothes.
The further down I dig, I think
on how or where this tunnel goes.

For though it is my hand that digs
my arm that thrusts the spade,
I don’t control, nor ever have
The piercing silver blade.

To stab and slay this crying dirt
and throw away some living plants.
The weeping willow has turned over
Despite the native prayers and chants.

The weather’s wreaking havoc;
the wind has riled leaves
to fly about, and it screams and shouts
as it huffs and heaves.

The unmarked smell of freedom
is the sweetest scent around;
it’s fresh cut grass and old pine trees,
but here it’s never found.

The toil, it produces sweat
and beads drip down my grubby face.
The unearthed worms writhe all about
Where are the moths, the Queen Anne’s Lace?

One day I may learn to find the pleasure in the toil,
until then, I hold my blade and slowly dig through soil;
The grimace held firm on my face would convince you the worst
befalls me daily, so untrue; I bear no great burden, nor a curse.

This path goes down, a tunnel round, a steep and jagged trail;
one day I’ll stop this digging craze and rest in final peace.
I’ll find that thing I search for,
And from this mud: release.