Unity in Pain
To all the survivors
Being born as we speak
I can't promise you much
But I know you're not weak
You've fought a whole war
Where no one could see
But you're not really alone
And that shits the key
When you're lost in the darkness
And can't find you way back
Remember these words
You can weather any attack
You're a survivor
It's what we do
An emotional Macgyver
Who can carry through
I know that shits tough
And I'm right there with you
But that's how you know
You can see this shit through
So the next time you're lost
In a neverending nightmare
Just close your eyes
And know that we're right there
Seamless
I look at these scars
and think, uncritically
live with love, or do without
none of these
were caused
by anyone
only by carrying on, and caring about
I stabbed myself with scissors when I was little
and have stitch-slashes across my middle
and at the temple a small, raised gash
looking in the mirror in confusion
as to which side it happened on,
Good or Evil?
I still have callous marks on the left
from flailing on the violin
and from squeezing the life
out of my pencil on the right
in pursuit of... I'm not sure what?
little pieces of hearts, always
to make whole again
maybe more fully loveable
maybe only to oneself
trying not to take anything
from anybody,
like it might be theft
I've refused everything,
even advice freely given
and I'd wish for all of us
a skin blameless, and smoothly healing
She could do this
She could do this
September 29, 2024
All she had to do was remain calm. The pain would eventually subside. A splash of water on her face, an air of dignity in her presentation, and she would collect her cash.
Violet had three people in front of her at customs. They were taking forever to answer questions and show their documentation. The agents, police, and TSA personnel were having their patience tried. This was making her worry. She took a deep breath and adopted the manner of a tourist who might miss a connection.
Finally. Violet moved to the front of the line and had her paperwork ready. The nylon retrieval lines interwoven through the drilled holes in her teeth became a surrogate for her first missing baby’s tooth years before. She subconsciously ran her tongue across the surface, constantly checking the security. She was hungry. She was thirsty. But, her stomach had no remaining volume for food. Not until she cleared security. That would be in a few more hours.
The customs agent asked for her passport and another ID. She rolled her eyes and presented him with her driver’s license. She fidgeted with her fake wedding ring, exposing the untanned ban under its surface. It was a small touch that added credibility to her story.
He loved asking questions, all sorts of questions. Eyes fell on her answers. Possibly to see if she had a tell. Possibly to ask more questions. The drug dog remained calm during the process. At least she thought it was a drug sniffing dog. Might have been for some other purpose.
She reached out to pet it. The dog snarled at her encroaching hand. She quickly pulled back and said, “Mea culpa.” No one laughed.
They told her to step aside and wait. The minutes turned to an hour. It was as if they forgot she existed even though they could see her standing right there. Now, her feet ached from her heels. She began to take them off when the agent told her emphatically, “No!”
She had enough. She flipped him the bird. She flipped them all off. The others waiting in line did so also.
It was a challenge to their authority. It also was a signal for the person who really held the reigns of power to call the presiding agent to cut her loose.
She was not worth the trouble.
The filet mignon tasted better than before. Violet made contact with her handler and he pulled each drug pouch from her stomach. The smell of vomit and the subsequent dry heaving for the next hour made her feel wretched. But, the thought of the money ($60000 US) and what she could do with it (the fine dining) made her feel better.
They wanted her to lay low. Go take a class or be seen at Disney World. They would call again just before Christmas. The demand for designer drugs would be high enough to warrant the risk and thus the pay.
As she savored her steak and red wine, she knew she could do this.
Again and again.
All she had to do was remain calm.
The Candy Store is Closed for the Weekend
The Candy Store is Closed for the Weekend
September 27, 2024
I turned the bolt precisely at 5pm on Friday
School had only let out 2 hours prior
It would be financial suicide not to remain open
Especially since today was payday
But what I was selling was not what I advertised
The children could locate candy bars and bubble gum elsewhere
My wares have infinitely more value
Both to the seller and the buyer
The first call came in at 6pm
His voice wanted a dime on Huckleberry in the 4th
I record in dry erase
In case the law wishes to audit my books
Seven more call for Huckleberry in the 4th
All seven wagered in multiple of dimes
To the uninitiated
The Roosevelt equates to ten Franklins
The odds were three to one
After leaving the paddock
The odds increased to four
At the start, they lingered near five
I can cover my losses
I expect others to do as I do
No other wagers arrived before the gates opened
I unplugged the phone for the next 2 minutes
Huckleberry finished first
Eight of my customers received PayPal transfers
I kept the phone unplugged
In lieu of my losses
The Candy Store is Closed for the Weekend
Signage on Saturday morning meaning more than it displays
Hoops on Saturday helped balance back to black
Pigskins on Sunday pushed me into a profit once more
Never underestimate the power of recent paychecks
Being squandered foolishly on a hope and dream
Never believe those who say, “Just one more time.”
For it is never the last time - Of that I am certain
Step out
This daily dance
it‘s choreography runs in my veins
the next move is automatic
comforting to save brain power
function over fashion
sensible conservatism
taken long enough
and one day you are compelled
to strip all the meaning like filthy carpet
drive to the gap to toss it all away
my dwindling battery enthusiastically endorses spontaneity
enter flimsy excuses traffic
we are losing light
Is it too late to live?
