I Don’t Remember

I don’t remember what you said to me?

But

Was it going to be better (than her)?

Was it going to be better (than her)?

I tried to put my pride aside but

every single time you tried

to lie

Manipulate and hide

All the blame inside my heart…

And now I sit here torn apart

Feeling like I didn’t have a chance

from the very start…

What was that baby?

Was it going to be better (than her)?

Was I going to be better (than her) ?

Or was I better off without you?

I feel like a jigsaw puzzle

And I can’t find all the pieces

No I can’t find all the pieces

Oh, why’d you make me your queen

if you were just planning on leaving?

Was it going to be better (than her)?

Was I ever going to be better than her…

to you?

 

 

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Bring Them Alive

I have to bring them alive and out of my head…

Or they will never truly be alive

And could end up dead..

A tragic waste, someone should have read…

Stored all inside my defiant head…

 

And I’m losing sleep as the words pull me out of bed…

waking me from my dreams to live in reality instead…

Oh I have to be alive and out of my head…

Oh why, she first cried, wanting to slumber instead…

Like a forgotten fragment time had led…

to a narrow path in the woods

instead of what Frost had said….

And now she still sits peacefully at the dead end..

The stillness comforts her, as she tries to mend….

Her feet from all the pathways she tried to bend…

Just to find something, she had in her head…

Just to find a way she could have led…

herself away from this place…

And into what she thought was reality instead…

But turns out to be a figment of her imagination

And in time she finds the soul is just intertwined…

Particles of space and time…

 

And she tried to climb the ladder,

blinded by the thought of it all being gone

Instead of just trying to remain strong

Holding herself up, while trying not to pull anyone else along…

in her already weighted down mind….

 

 

Oh, I have to bring them alive and out of my head…

Or they will never truly be alive

And could end up dead..

A beautiful waste that should have been read

A beautiful song, that should have been played..

Outside of my head.

 

 

The Dimensions/Part 2

She wakes up to him tugging upon her sleeve.

“Mommy! Mommy! I have to go to school soon. Where’s my lunch?”

“I…I…” She panics…”I think I it’s in the fridge, hold on.”

Sure enough it is. She doesn’t remember ever packing it though. She doesn’t even know his name yet. She thinks, what’s my name?

So many thoughts racing, their almost uncontrollable. He’s staring at her, as if he knows something is different about her. Children always know when things are off. It is as if intuition is at its peak at those ages.

He runs out the door, barely making the bus.

Now, time for some investigation. She runs upstairs, trying to find anything with a name on it. She has to know who she is, who they are, where she is, in order to answer questions later. Nothing makes sense and she is overwhelmed with only an afternoon to figure this out it seems.

She finds something. A filing cabinet of some fancy kind. After some ravaging she was able to find birth certificates. Apparently her name is Margaret, her son is Alvin, and her husband is Edward.

Really, Alvin? She thinks. Poor kid.

She is 32 years old, Edward is 34, and Alvin is 9. None of this makes sense to her. She feels she was older, but she can’t remember how old. Everything seems to be getting more difficult to remember from her previous life. Tears roll down her face. Jack, her real son, is no longer visible in her mind. She pretends to hug the floor as if it’s him but this only results in a prolonged anxiety spell. She knows this will solve nothing. She must figure out how to get back home and not forget everyone.

She reads on, finding out more and more about the family. Looking at photographs, drawings, mailings, anything she can use to gain information. It becomes less and less painful as she continues.

The door slams.

“Hunny!” Edward says.

“Yes, dear, I am in here.” Says Margaret.

“Did you make supper?”

She panics. “I’m so sorry. I failed to get anything done today.”

“Are you okay?” Edward asks.

“Yes, I’m fine. Just maybe a little bit of a flu coming on.”

“Okay, well, I guess me and the boy will go out to dinner. I’ll bring you something back my love. Please get some rest and be yourself again. I sure do miss your cooking.”

“I will. Thank you dear.”She says.

Finally, she’s alone again. Now, time to learn some recipes. The cookbook is extensive. Covered in flour and definitely used every day. She cannot imagine a woman cooking every single day but she gives it a chance. She picks something easy for tomorrow evening and hopes for the best.

Edward awakens her. “You fell asleep with the recipe book. How adorable.”

“Well, I wanted to make sure I was prepared for tomorrow.”

She sits with him, eats her dinner quietly, letting him talk about his day at work, who he had seen in town, and what new shoes he desires. She gathers more information and finds herself becoming intrigued the more he speaks. She starts to think hey this may not be that bad after all. His handsome, chiseled face radiates authenticity. Then she starts thinking of her own family again. Guilt rolls in. He kisses her. She feels his lips tug softly on hers then pull away even more gently. It was like nothing she felt before. So innocent. Her heart becomes weak as she looks in his eyes and she starts to feel as if she belongs here.

He holds her all night. Carefully caressing her body, memorizing every inch of her skin, so he can remember it forever. She does the same, barely sleeping all night.

The Dimensions

The curtains are stained with orange juice from the year before. The kids decided to have it in the bed one night, and well you know what happened. A fight broke out and she spent an hour cleaning it up as usual.

She wakes up and finds it strange  no one seems to be around. No yelling. She sighs with relief.

They always hang around the yard, talking about the latest football game.  She pretends she cares but she’d rather be left to do her own things. She barely even has free time to have it spent in such a boring manner, yet no one seems to ask her what she would rather be doing. But one day, she decided it was all about her from now on. Has since left the family circle, and formed her own filled with dreams.

A voice yells out to her. She runs thinking something has happened. It’s her son, wanting her to play basketball.

“Oh, John just grab one of the neighbor boys! I’m in my heels, I can’t do that right now!”

“Okay, mom.” He sighs and carries on alone.

Sure enough, five minutes pass and she hears a shriek of a child. She runs hysterically, finding John lying in front of a car. The ball across the street as if it perfectly landed there right in front of a long sidewalk. But her focus was not on the house across the street, but rather John. His limp body once full of the grace of an angel has the devils steal his light she thinks. All because I couldn’t just watch him. Tears roll down her cheeks, but as she looks up to ask God why he took her baby boy, her heart begins to race.

A house, not any normal house lies across the street. One she has never seen before. The ironwork magnificent, protective, yet graceful. A lion’s head creates the steeple and his tail wraps around the cone shaped roof as if it is protecting the house.

She realizes something is watching her threw the window. Large iron doors that look as if they cannot be opened await. She wonders if she pulls on them, if they will even open. She looks down, and John is no longer there. She thinks maybe someone poisoned her, or perhaps her medication is making her hallucinate. Panic overtakes her body.The sweat pouring out of her anxious body causes her to feel sick. Her home is no longer there either now. The only house left is the iron house.

Desperation is kicking in. No car has been in sight. She starts to believe maybe she is in some kind of simulation but the thought exits her mind quickly. Too many tv shows she thinks. After a few hours, she takes the chance.

The ball is still lying there. And as she tries to pick it up, it just keeps rolling down the sidewalk. As if it is some trick to lure her or maybe it is a joke. She has no idea what to think or who would think of this sick game. She grabs the door and it opens with barely a pull.

“Someone there?”She asks gently.

There is no answer. She walks further, slowly, calmly, but ready to defend. She hears something. Some kind of motor, a quieter one, maybe a toy?

A little boy sits in the living room, smiling at her.

“Hey!”

He doesn’t say anything. It is as if she is the first woman he has ever seen. He begins to cry. She hears feet running. It’s a man.

“Hey hunny! Why don’t you comfort him!”

“I, I, didn’t know it was my job.”she says.

“Well, that’s how it works. I pay the bills, you deal with this!”

“Okay, I get it.” She mumbles along.

He leaves. She sits down, realizing there some cigarettes. It’s weird though, they have a rather old looking package. She smells them, and they are fresh. Strange, she thinks. Lights one up. Stares at the smoke, as if she is waiting to wake up from a nightmare.

This isn’t real she thinks. But then she coughs. The taste is definitely there. She hates it.

She touches the child, and he cries. ”

He’s real. He is all real.”

Her husband walks in, “Hunny, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. I think I’m just hormonal.”

“Huh? Hunny you know we do not speak of these things. I just know.”

“Okay, sorry.”

She looks at the living room again, realizing it now has a strange looking television. A box like structure of wood around it. She doesn’t get it. The furniture looks like it is art deco. She thinks maybe 50’s or 60’s era.

“Am I going backwards?”she says.

“What was that hunny!?”

“Oh nothing.”

“I’m off to work sweetheart. I’ll see you in a bit. Try to make something good for dinner.”

“Sure.”

“Love you.”

“Love you too.”

She panics as the door shuts. She is in neither heaven nor hell. She is in something but she doesn’t even know what. She thinks, okay I’ll make the most of it.

She has to make a dinner in a kitchen where she doesn’t even know. She has to act as if everything is okay or she thinks these people will definitely think I am crazy. Just hold out she thinks, maybe I am in a coma. Hmmm.

He comes home, kisses her on the cheek when she tries for the mouth.

“Geez baby!”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

“Let’s not be that way in front of the child.”

“Okay.”

He enjoys her meal but wonders about the inspiration. It is all the sudden inventive for such a woman like her. He praises her but senses some kind of change. He doesn’t know if he will like it or not in the years to come, but he believes in fixing things forever.

She lays her head down to rest and thinks of the life she once had. Her own child. Her own husband. Tears roll down her cheeks quietly and no one knows they are even shed but herself. This pains her. She falls asleep trying to accept the reality. Trying to leave the pain behind.

 

 

You Were Nothing Like Me

You were nothing like me

like God created women and man

you created me out of the epitome

of your own sorrow

so you could borrow

my soul

only to leave it blackened

but still burning like a pile of cinders

beneath your feet

you will drop down to your knees

as the sparks fly into the sky

and away from the lie

you created out of yourself…

There is no way to extinguish

my pain

the memories will become clearer

as I gain

a kind of sanity

you blocked from my reality

the time lost

will become well spent

cuz’ never will I repent my sins

to a man who avoids his….

never will I give my soul

to a man who cannot give his…

never will I bind myself up

and not call it was it is…

a game of betrayal…

with a unsincere kiss.

Rant and Rave

I recover like no other. I hit the dirt and wander through the pines alone and weightless like a small deer ready to escape across the road and into the unknown. I don’t care to become part of the herd, but to live effortlessly alone. I don’t care for the partner in life anymore since nothing has been gained through anyone but what emotions I have been left to face. Alone. Alone. Alone. It has always been that way. Did I forget the same forest I ran through as a child is the small forest I run through today? Has my memory failed me or my lack of foreseeing this never ending cycle called life is what it is a cycle until death? Should death be feared if it means an end? Are all ends feared? No. I fear nothing but the monsters of people who inhabit this earth inflicting pain upon others for whatever they see as gain. I fear those who start war for money. I fear those who don’t release cures for diseases. I fear those who abuse just to feel better about their pathetic existence they created for themselves. I fear global warming is real and we are screwed. I fear clean water will eventually run out. I fear the planet will become so overpopulated we will have a mass extinction of the elderly. I am afraid everyday about things everyone should be afraid of. If one person counteracted one of these fears every day isn’t that better than avoiding them? What is it about society where we feel avoidance is the best remedy? Why do we run from what we should face and face what we should avoid? I am tired sick and sad everyday seeing the world as an oyster losing its shell. I tell myself though there are others out there who know what I feel. My existence is not unique, we are taught we are all unique but really are we? Isn’t it easier to realize we are the same in a lot of ways. Isn’t it easier to put aside the self righteous attitude and treat each other well? It is easier than fighting.

The Things You Said

If you said those things to me

and they were true

I might as well make a noose

and hang myself until blue…

but their not true…

they no longer turn me blue

and I cannot sit here

and watch all the rainbow of colors

turn into a select few…

and before you came along

I sang to  a song

inside my head

but there you had to go

pumping your lead

riding your horse

then taking off the saddle

when you offered me a ride…

only to make me hide

in the nap of the mane

cuz’ no one can tame

my spirit…

so take the lasso

the haircut I bought for you

the gas I blew threw

the money i spent on you

and burn it

cuz it never existed

I’ll never miss it

I’ll never wonder if I made you kiss

the bruises left behind

if in time you’d see how blind

your mind was wrapped in twine

never to be mine.