Concrete world

I like my concrete world. I walk down the stairs, look for floor # 18 and plop down on my sorry a@#.  I watch the balled up receipt I threw in the corner  of the stairwell, five weeks ago, to confirm not even the janitor goes there. I sit in the corner of the world I know most I won't be able to hurt anyone. Because there's no one around. I'm all alone. So alone.

I sit and tell myself I'm here by all  by myself.

I simply need to keep moving.

I'm beginning to see how people are actually scared of me. And how much of an ass that makes me. I am beginning to see how unkind of a person I truly am. what little I do for society. What little I do for for my family, now days. This is not good. This is not good. I use to think I was a good person. I use to think I was smart, attractive, knowledgeable, better more sophisticated.
In all reality, I have tth skills of no one, going nowhere, and I'm an alcoholic. I simply need to keep moving.

She was worth it.

The congregation of mourners
on the corner of obesity
next to the overslept days
and nights
and mornings
and afternoons
and nights again
With the jobs at that place that could take my hung over self and decrepit soul
that languished on the side of beauty
that men pined over in drunken stupors
at dive bars they had visited for ten plus years
but never saw an a*& as nice and young (in their drunkard state) as mine
so they could stick there horrid tales of ruptured disks and spines and spleens and minds and joints and live another day to let themselves into places other than me.
Yes, she was worth it.
Ever in excess alcoholic nights,
that I languished on the side of caution,
then bewilderment in the eyes of my colleagues the next morning.
She was worth it.

(this writing piece was someone else, I will be back soon)

The Enviable Truth

I feel too often we have to lie with our smiles and our words and say the truth with our eyes.

de·bauch·er·y

I have to make my voice a kind interruption
an invitation
a never overstep
a politeness unknown to me at the second
I may or more likely may very well know you too well
In the very midst,
Knowing what I don't know
Saying what I don't say
Doing what I never do
And then
Doing it all over again.
Just to live as you live better than me.

Charles Bukowski is better than anything

I'm sorry I didn't listen to you more. I'm sorry I didn't listen to halfway through whatever you were saying, at all. I'm sorry I didn't see you for what you were. And that what you were was to be slipped through my fingers in seconds. I'm sorry I didn't get your phone number. I'm sorry I didn't get your address. I'm sorry I didn't look deeply into your eyes I don't know the color--Or of the hair I think was black. I'm sorry I didn't get your surname, your more than nickname, your whatever would link me to you and the still knowing of you.
I'm sorry I didn't copy down what more I could do to be like you. For at twenty you amazed me and forever more meeting and passing a stranger on the street will be as close as I ever came to knowing you truly.
No matter how deeply you looked into my eyes and knew my first and last name and maybe even my address. How keenly you followed who I was and where I had been.
I'm sorry I wasn't better equipped to handle knowing and being around an artist such as yourself because now all that lines the insides of plates I scrape and knives I wash and buses I blend into is guilt, and that same worry as before that kept from knowing anything especially that hug that will never be cashed in on.

I only want sinking ships

I only want sinking ships. I only want the disasters. I hold out until the time is right, until the flicker is gone right from your eyes. Right at that moment, the hound dogs come out. There starts the whispering, the yearning.

All I want is for you to echo how much I don't want myself, in the end, and the pounding, the scratching, the digging leads to the surface, and right there, I'll love you! Tell me I'm not good enough, and everything will be at your command, because a part of me believes, more than believes, I'm truly not. A huge f'ing part.

For the record, I don't entirely believe it was just pity

Think about how much  you owe on the water bill. Think about stomach pain. No, don't think about stomach pain. Think about baseball. No don't think about baseball. Or you'll risk thinking about the bedroom for your brother. The one your mother made six months before she died. The same room the cousins you raised now sleep in, probable will until they graduate from high school. Just think about anything but him.
Think about crow bars! Play the game over and over again until this awkward moment that these held in tears have sense to fall into passes. Don't think about how he'd walk into a room and be the only one to say, and mean, "that drawing is good."Don't think about how he saved your life. Don't think about his name. Don't think about his career. Don't think about his life so inappropriately connected to yours for  a blip of time stolen with but the price of sheer despair and pity. Don't think about him. Don't think about him. Don't think about how there was only one man who made you believe in angels. Because you'll think about maybe you'll survive. Maybe you'll surface. You'll think things aren't so bad. You'll think to try harder. Just for him. When you know he'll say 'No, just for you."

Clouds

I realized I should live the life I have. The life of a young, slightly attractive woman with some spare money and maybe not too much talent or sense but ambition. I'd give a kiss to any man who'd give me a chance at this world. Lay my life down on the line for five cents worth of credibility in a good company. I know who myself to be. And this is not her. Weak, sick, not admired, unprepared, flailing, blaming, sleeping too much and working too little.
Whatever this comes to, it can't come to this. I'm worth more that this. I see more than this. I know more than this. I don't have to live this way. Who cares if I've failed? Since when has this world built itself up from anything but failure?

Fifteen Minutes

"Are you okay?"
He shouted through the passenger side window of his car.
I gave him a thumbs up and a weak smile.
"Are you sure?"
Thumbs up and slightly better looking smile.
"I'll buy you a drink when I get back in 15 minutes!"
He shouted again through his passenger side window rolling it up this time and driving away. As if that offer made all difference in the world. I'll be in the arms of someone softly holding me in 15 minutes. I'll be crying my eyes out to family in fifteen minutes. I'll be forgetting that I had a nervous break down in front of a bar in fifteen minutes. I'll be vacuuming the floor I promised to vacuum in fifteen minutes. I'll be doing the dishes, the trash, put the dog to bed,  all the menial work that keeps a relationship alive.
I'll be soothing myself, I'll be talking myself down, I'll be making amends, concessions and compromises that will hurt but be for the ultimate good in fifteen minutes.
In fifteen minutes time this will all be over, brushed away and gone because I am who I am and there's nothing that drink can do to make that any different.

And after fifteen minutes I don't know what the hell I'll do with this life. 

Him again

I love you. I didn't want to love you. You came into my life at a desperate time. Your eyes spoke the truth. The light there spread through decades. I haven't been able to do this without you but somehow I've seemed to have made it. You make a being smile inside me I only visit out of sheer bravery. Jut by remembering the warmth of your smile. Take me down the depths that keep me floating here.

The Semi Happiness

In the semi happiness, there are lies you tell yourself--there are amendments made on behalf of forging forward. In the semi happiness, there is unforgiveness of small social blunders. In the semi happiness, stereotypes are accepted, nonsense pondered, half truths told, fast response and easy truth given. In the semi happiness, just enough will suffice, acquiescence will do, fishy friends resurface due in part to unguided judgment. In the semi happiness, too much is acceptable, and too little analyzed but maybe I have it wrong.

Comfortability does not sit well with me. Integrity is compromised, complacency lives there. It moistens the walls of depression and leads to alcoholism.

I'm glad you want to (yeah) me but that's not what I was hired to do

She said I couldn't . The words 'I won't' 'You can't' 'You aren't' oftened her lips. I lived in infamy of failure, repression, and lost time place and affect on situation. I couldn't dream my own society, my living quarters,  my very personality. It was this or that, had to be done for the family and don't you forget it.
Ten years later how can I change the tranquility of fitted sheets on differently shaped beds? Mask black with purple, green, red or pink? How can I disconnect a line of dissent?
Flavored lipstick, painted nails polka dotted shirts, pants, earrings too dangle for her taste? Worn anyways? No, no, no. Don't draw attention. Don't look too longingly at a good thing not meant for you. Don't be, don't think for heaven sakes don't do. Sit. Abide. Be. And when asked to get to it--get to it!
Life shouldn't be this way. I won't, mother. I won't. I can't. This wasn't what was meant for but was asked of wrongly of you. I'm sorry you said. yes. I'm sorry YOU abided, obeyed, openly, unbiasedly, and without concern. THAT'S NOT WHO I AM! I won't. I won't. I won't. I won't. I won't. I won't. And I don't have to.

I love you

By the way I saw a dream. It was mine I think. It was a desert somewhere with a world saving women like always. I saw you in many dreams. How delicious those dreams were, too far appart from one another. I loved you, I love you and I loved you again. I don't know where all this is headed except to say I hope the best for you until this feeling that tells me we'll meet again manifested itself into a smile and some exchanges words of some kind that will warm the walls of this awfully cold chest you left behind.
I love you like the love I have for being a ballerina. Unreachable. Untouchable and unrealistic. But I love you, did I ever tell you? No, I never did and I close that arrogance so close to my heart it edges out in spears the size of rose thorns cutting into the reality I realize this morning meant nothing! Take the strings! Take the pride! Take the good task and toss it to a good doer who means more to the world than I did! Take that good deed and shove it some place it will grow and maintain wealth and privilege and respect. Oh the respect it would garner! The respect it will yield! Oh, yes, when I am dead and gone I will thank the heavens I kept  my secret safe and took the easy way out (which it really is besides righteousness.)
I LOVE YOU!

There will be something here soon

I can't confirm how drunk I was when I wrote the following, I'm sorry.

This isn't working out
This isn't me
I see all there is to see
And it lead you to me
The desert stream
the Shangri la,
The atmosphere
Across the sea of awful
I take three
To see his face
To see his fee
You know it and I know you
You take the fools path each time
And that is how you met me.

What should I look for?

What do I look for? The glazed look in their eye? The tilt of their nose? Thin lips? A mischievous glint to the eye? What must I look for to confirm you're no good for me? Why should I care? Do I know you? Do I care? Why am  I obsessed when we don't even share a word? Am I the one? Do I have thin lips, a glint in my eyes and a glazed expression? I don't understand any of this and can't get it all out of my head just the same. Because I can't distinguish anymore. I can't do this. I can't color code the world into categories of alright and not alright when I'm begging just to be color blind! And I'm far from it no matter how much in between I am myself through it all.
 

For my mom, I love you.

I miss you. I feel you watching over me. You'll never know how much I miss you.

I've done somethine wrong

But I still have my marriage. I tried to look for the perfect man. I tried to get happier. I tried so hard, so long, devoted so much of my energy to finding this elusive creature. I tired myself out. I cried. I wept. I left any man in the lurch not resembling the perfect combination of attributes I was looking for.

And when I truly believed I found him, twice, he did not want me. He was content on his own. I loved him for that brief period of my time. Then, in the aftermath of rejection and failure, I became desperate. I  started clinging to anything. No matter how unnatural their behavior to mine. No matter what, I clung. I stayed. I tried to make it work. And got hurt from incompatibility. And the world would judge me for what I did in the interim. But the world has nothing on what I have in store for my own self deprecating each day. And I judge the world in turn. But I should hope no more. For what I've done, for what I did, I want to put it in the past. I have to move forward. I have to gain my objectives. I have to fight for what will push me forward, for myself. And no one could have told that story to me better than the turmoil brought from the search for a  good man.

He

He judges me full heatedly for my drinking. My little black bubbles just won't do it for him. I don't blame him. So I try hard to push out words from his lips to please my self confidence. I push out tiny smiles form my heart, like trying to poke out goose feathers from a down comforter. Slowly at first, then fast as full tugs of anticipation are pulled out.
 I feel him. I know him. I touch the essence of him in the middle of the night when he's not looking or thinking of me. And I think of him.The platonic nature of our relationship and I understand how very much this is meant to be. It's okay.

I F'd up

I didn't love him. I didn't even particularly feel attracted to him. His name was ____ and he was a part of the armed services. I felt like I couldn’t hurt him. I couldn’t even do anything but tip toe around him. Even asking him to turn up the heat seemed the extremity I didn't want him to go through just for me. He had tattoo’s. I traced them with my fingers. I kissed his lips. But first I kissed his nose and that started a cascade of emotions and feelings and physical reactions I couldn’t stop. I should have stopped it. He gave me every out. He was a gentlemen in every way. I don't know where I'm at now. I can't stop thinking about him. I know I shouldn't put this out to the world. I know it's dumb. But I have. Because he meant I don't know what to do. I can't stop this and I don't know what to do. I don't know what to do.