one-mad-scribbler

[one-mad-scribbler]

august lover

the morning after

the scent of rain waltzed through your bedroom window

you offered to make breakfast and I smiled silly against your chest

that golden voice had made me dream of dirty deeds

driven me dizzy to my knees

honey-dripping lips

daring me to kiss them clean

bitter black coffee

never sipped so sweet

[one-mad-scribbler]

self portrait

a caged animal // a bear that has been poked once too many // a hollow shell, a husk, a shed skin // songbird of hatred // manic scribbler // depressive diva //messy drunkard // lonely little girl // manic pixie dreamer // mastermind schemer // part-time perfectionist // aspiring knockout // acidic tongue // tunnel eyes // never done running // never coming down

[one-mad-scribbler]

An Ode to the Volume of My Thoughts When The Fan Finally Cuts Out

(tw hospitals, death, su*c*dal thought)

It is funny, almost

Like the kind you half-smile at to placate the joker

It is odd how this calm has seeped its way into my bones

How I am less weary than I’ve been in over 2 months

Not happy, not pleased or satisfied in any measure worth mentioning

But sitting in this sort of stillness which

I think only exists in hotels across the freeway from hospitals

I hope that lunch is decent

I hope the pillows stop seeming so noisy after a couple nights

I hope the kids jabbering in the pool two floors down

(But you wouldn’t know it for how their pitched-up voices carry)

Are not here to be close to a parent who stays across the freeway

Or at least if they are

I hope they are not as observant or as absorbent of emotions as I was

Doe-eyed and always feeling things I didn’t understand

I hope their caregivers take them to dinner and let them watch Disney channel and wait until they are tucked in to cry in the stark light of the bathroom

I hope they recall this as a vacation

Chlorine water, big bed

And even when they are old enough to know the truth

They still cannot remember anything but a new environment for their childhood revelry

I hope one day I too will feel that intoxicating carelessness

Shoulders loose without even thinking about it

I hope I remember what it is like to live without dancing between wishing to die or wishing for someone you love not to die

Even in this stillness

I feel a strange resignation, the kind that scares me, the kind which I refuse to bow down to

I refuse to believe this is as good as it will get from here on out

I refuse to believe that happy days are behind us

My mind recites memories like a film reel

I sip barely decent coffee

My mother lies on a surgical table

My father lies in the bed parallel to mine

I will continue to swallow the ache which rises at a sweet note

Because it is only 11:19 AM and we have a long day ahead of us and I am already too tired to cry

I will try to forget this day, the present, the past couple months

I will pretend nothing ever went wrong and I will delude myself as long as I can live inside this deadly calm purgatory

Before I must learn to breathe or to hate this day

Before I must arrive at tomorrow and drag my body from this same bed and care for how I move in the world once more

It feels, now, as if the universe does not see me

My little family

I was always told I cared too much about too little, mountains and molehills and the like

I suppose my final hope

Is that my next little things of great concern are essays and grocery costs and wishing I saw more sunsets

Not a 5 by 6 centimeter tumor and tiny scalpels and shrinking dreams and my infinitesimal world among billions

I hope the reason my father cannot sleep well tomorrow 

Is because those kids are back in the pool