early morning 24 february 2023

Stay here.
Stay here stay here stay here
(repeating ad infinitum into the dark,
into the open windows of my car
out to the night
)
stay here
please
so much more for you so much more please stay.

I look out into the night, look into my mind to remember the things that are waiting for me.
please stay.
I know you feel unwelcome but please stay.
I know that you feel that there is no room for you and that you need to be by yourself but please stay.

Please stay.

I smoke and I smoke and I smoke and I smoke
I smoke until finally I find something that makes me laugh, I comment, “thank you, that finally made me laugh.”
knowing that it will only last until it doesn’t.

And now it is gone again.

Stay.
Please.

952am 6th september 2022

I am sitting in my car, unmoving
Right foot on the dashboard
Smoke nearly filling the cabin, rain outside
Grim and grey and compressing me into this small, flattish wafer of a person
I am so alone and I do not want to be so alone but I cannot go anywhere
I do not want to go anywhere I do not want to go out in this
The things that I know will make me happy I cannot find the energy to begin to think about doing,
There is too much preamble.
I think about curling up in the shower and letting the water beat down on me as I lay on the floor of the tub
I think about crawling back into bed and never getting out
I think about my hand my shoulder cramping as I clutch this pipe and cannot smoke enough weed to make me feel better no there is not enough to make me feel better

I do not want advice.
I just want some fucking relief.

I wish you got to see

I wish you got to see me today
I have my new glasses
My curls; the color of the hydrangea we planted out front
and the porcelainberries that grow wild out back.
hopefully soon they will belong to someone else
someone else who will take so many closeup photos of them.

The curve of the tip of my nose
I wish you could see it.
You would kiss it.

Maybe.
Probably.
I’d like to think you would.

742a 5 july 2022

breezy, uncertain
i woke to grey light, dim
the temporary buoyancy of yesterday,
the day before
gone.
sometime in the night it left,
stole away, slunk away
embarrassed to have lifted only to leave
“i’m sorry,”
whispers on the breeze
“i’m sorry, that wasn’t for you.”

i’m sorry that wasn’t for you.

my shoulders all wound together
knit together, snicked tightly, bound.
the hand that holds my pipe tensed and clawed
the tips of my fingers white from the pressure

unclench your hand, look at your fingers.
sit up, you don’t have to get up.
sit up straight, you can stretch.
you remember most of it.
take in deep breaths of this shaded air
look up
aggressively blue sky hidden (thankfully)
mostly by the canopy
there are a lot of silvery clouds breaking up the blue

today feels very uncertain,
I feel the mania pulling my shoulders together
i will do everything that I can but there is only
so
much
available.

ancient artifacts

black clay medallion, going into the salt

I look at this
it looks like a cookie
i wanna eat it
I look at this and I think you might have liked it.
Like really liked it.
It has that stone boulder-type look that you loved
you made your file folders and icons all have it
It has that riveted, homemade robot-type look to it
that wonky, wabi-sabi ancient technology look.
something you could have unearthed on a dig
or found in our backyard, sticking half-up out of the dirt.
You can see my fingerprints in it, for now.
You can see the literal hand of the artist.
The linen cloth I use to protect both surfaces
above and beneath.

I had to come forward this far.
this far.
Three years.
I had to come forward this far
to make something I truly think you would like.

I think so much that you would like it.

but why am I trying so desperately to please my dead husband?

I purposely posted this past the point of danger.

728p 8 september 2020

i do not want to be alive right now
i want to be not here right now
i do not want anything other than to not fucking exist right now
but i can’t write that and post it now because
everyone will freak the fuck out
so i cant post it
i cant reach out
i cant scream
i cant tell anyone
i just have to not do anything
not do anything
not do anything
just sit with this and struggle and scream inside my own head and not do anything nothing nothing nothing

nothing.
it is all i can do to sit and type
and the stench of that motherfuckers cigarillo is in my fucking apartment
and all i want to do is punch him in his fucking dumb face

nothing.
nothing i cannot do a thing
i will scream and scream and scream and not stop and i cannot stop i have to do nothing.

i know if i open my mouth i will scream and scream and not stop so i dont

nothing.

nothing.
my shoulders are tense and around my ears and tight
this empty this noise
this noise this noise this noise
.
there is no enjoy there is not any enjoy.

i need to smoke.
i need to smoke but it does not last
my plant is so thirsty she needs so much attention i cannot give her the attention the care she needs she is suffering.

i take great big gulps of air but it is not enough there is not enough air..

i am going to go smoke and maybe it will be enough
if i just smoke enough

nothing is enough
my brain is on fire and falling into a crevasse
there is no end to the fire no bottom in sight

it is a relatively quiet evening
even with the idiotic clapping of some fucking asshole for some fucking reason
even with the assault of garbage music that competes with blasting television noise
no yeti-footed neighbor upstairs
(took his black-and-tans and split)
stop with the fucking clapping for fuck’s sake already

i don’t want music
i don’t want noise
i want silence
nothing interfering

my eyes are dry, for now
core unclenched, shoulders still tight, but lower
i can think about packing a bowl now
try without becoming frustrated, fucking it up
easy to do in general, yes but nothing is easy and if that asshole doesn’t stop clapping soon

fuck i am exhausted.

3:13p, 15 April, 2019

A close-up of my black cat, Teaz'ka, curled up on my lap, on my pink and orange tie-dye pants and white t-shirt. His head is resting on my left arm.

Waiting in this room by myself with our cat
With Teaz’ka
Ivan Rumpelteazer, first of his name
Cleverly named, loved more than life itself.
I am so angry at you for being dead.
You aren’t here to be with us
You aren’t here to talk to
You aren’t here to be overrun with emotion with me

You aren’t here to console him, to console me. We are alone.

You aren’t here.