When my boys were young and still in school
They thought at first their mama was a fool.
My eldest the troublemaker was he,
Was called to the principles office one too
many times you see.
As punishment mother would have to "Shadow"
him at school. Mama weren't no fool.
I showed up in the nastiest raggedy clothes I could find, my shoes didn't match, my hair was nasty looking and I blacked out my front teeth.
Plus I put a little bit of deer scent on me so I would have a lovely musky smell.
My son was in the 8th grade right at the embarrassment age!
I made darn sure that I would not be making a return performance. Think of Lucille Ball in one of her schemes and that was me that day!
My younger sons learned from that day also.
Never underestimate the power of a mother who has a good imagination!
Impulse
Funny
How the things
I want to do in life
Would kill me
I want to see what would happen
If I jumped off a building
What would happen first
Would I feel anything
I'll never know
Impulsive
Is what I call it
Impulsive thoughts to do
Outrageous things
I could go into more detail
But
Gore isn't really my style
Vindication
So many people I’d like to attack,
Revenge for making me a maniac.
Hatred acute,
My gun I’d shoot,
Dropping each sucker upon the tarmac.
*Disclaimer: This is a poem. Any similarity among the narrator, potential victims, living or dead, and situations is unintentional and coincidental. Please do not call the police or my therapist (she thinks I'm doing much better).
Two years ago today...
On the day of my fiancé's funeral, I refused to leave his side. I held his hand as he lay lifeless in his coffin, and I whispered sweet things to him.
When his family would come up to say their final respects, I unintentionally scared them away as they watched in horror as I would kiss him on the lips, pat his hair away from his face and tell him how foundation made him look so pretty.
He smiled like flowers. Powdery and blossoms. I took big whits of his makeup every change I had. I was told much later that at one point I even attempted to crawl in to curl up with him.
If only they'd let me.
Knives.
I see something sharp and think, "hey! thats probably sharp enough to cut yourself with". I don't want to kill myself and I'm not depressed, I just always wanted to know what it was like to inflict self harm. And (this slightly more creepy ) I find myself also just fascinated with weapons in general, especially the really sharp ones.