Jul 16, 2010


Time passes so quickly like a night’s dreams
5 months go by
Days turn to nights turn to days again
And it’s gone
Memories are blurred and combined with
Memories of other days and
They’re gone sometimes
If they’re too hard on my heart to remember
Seems like yesterday that I was
Holding her frail, soft, weathered hands
Cutting away at her old woman nails
And brushing her teeth gently.
Seems like yesterday I was signing my name into the book
And walking down the hall
Hearing the wails and mumblings of the residents
In the rooms around her
Seems like time has flown by but sometimes
In the night
It seems like a snail moving across a crowded highway
And I wish for it to hurry up
I remember
Playing as a child on the floor
With crayons and dough and pie tins and paper
Eating dinner and watching The Golden Girls
Three’s Company
Then giving her a kiss on the cheek
At my wedding
Then handing her my new baby girl
Then moving her from home to home
And now she is gone
And I just write about her and remember
And dream and
Hope to see her again
And hold her warm, loving hands
Finger nails painted a sheer pink
And see her smiling, white teeth with rouged cheeks and clean glasses.

Jul 14, 2010


I know you’re watching through your telescopic lens
safely at a distance from the battle
that is raging inside of my mind.
I am desperately trying to gather the pieces of my heart,
a pile of shattered glass.
The castle made of cards we built
is now a mess upon my bedroom floor.
Who do you think you are to be so deceptive?
What once was a beautiful dance
twirling and choreographed inside of my stomach
is now a jar of dead butterflies
whose wings are turning to dust against each other.

You watch and cringe but reach out no hand
from your high up perch of paper and stone.
You’ve thrown down the tools that broke down
this palace that we built with dreams and cards
but these tools cannot rebuild my world.
No thank you for your lies
I do not accept them.
Your so called love has brought to me
all this pain, this shattered heart, this mess upon my floor
now bathed in tears and sweat and glass.

Jul 3, 2010


I was looking for my muse
And I found it down the barrel of a 9mm pistol
And I found it whirling down the drain with the suds from my hand soap
And I found it whistling a tune while I did the dishes.
I was wishing for the words
And I found them in your eyes
And I found them in your strong, loving arms
And I found them dancing around with my memories
But I see the words in the sight of the 9mm
And I see them in the dirt that I am washing away
And in the pit of my stomach with my dinner and red wine.
And the words and my muse are sometimes one in the same
And they are angry and cold and tired and lying
Sometimes they are lonely and filled with sad memories and regrets
Sometimes they are filled with disgrace but sometimes
They are hopeful and happy and loving and excited
Dreamy, whimsical, and sometimes
They come at you like a bullet or a kiss.