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3 a.m. thoughts on madness & hunger

What is the difference between madness and hunger? Madness gives us something to hang our coats on, while hunger drives us.  Yes, that is it. My sister had her palm read and the woman told her our father was caught in Limbo.  I can’t stop thinking about that this morning.  Not feeling it.  Just thinking it. Back to Hunger and Madness.  The difference.  I haven’t quite got the “hunger” part of it yet.  Hunger is the tireless journey, the desperate aim for an end; an insatiable thing.  But so is madness isn’t it? Madness is an unending spin, hunger has…

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Stitchings

and I watch you fall
from my fists
where I held you
hard and close because
what is the difference anyway
between madness
and hunger

I want you to
walk right up and bite me
stick your words inside me

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Humming Birds

“Amy, you’re gonna get it,” Nikki tells me. I’m hiding between the lilac bushes, Barbie’s head in my hand. It’s our weekend at our father’s old farmhouse. “What’d you use?” “Daddy John’s pocket knife.” I’m not afraid. My father is harmless, even almost scared sometimes. “I’m telling!” And she runs toward the house. I fish…

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Difficult Degrees

How strong the wood is how heavy the water how fire burns you and saves you how we can suffocate in space a leaf knows no direction yet it cycles how I slip across a plank of moods how I gaze so far in my small mind how I am not this body with its ills, but a cycle–a circle, a painted sphere in orbit given to touch–to feel–magnitudes. I know no direction. The dark, the light–two poles of a whole. Balance: I pull you too far down and then too high, but at such lengths I wander beyond myself…

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795 Days

My hands tremble again as I try to open a prescription. More Valium. It’s the same as it always happens—the complete fear, the loose-jointed-hanging by a thread over a large hole. And then the sweat, the racing heart, the distorted perception of my peripheral, and I can no longer feel. Self-mutilating is often the cure for this, but I’m becoming too heavy in the drugs. I shake more as suicide creeps into the back of my mind again. My psychiatrist calls this dissociating. I call it Thursday.   Another day in these rooms, pacing (lots of pacing). I spend most…

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Dear Virginia

I would have met you at the water if I were then without a daughter; I would have held your hand–my lost keeper. I would have decided on the hour–on instinctual impulse–when the lower haze of swaying moods sends me down. I would have called you I bet, and the moon would’ve been full and…

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You’re Better Than That–Rocky Balboa

Rocky Balboa: “But somewhere along the line you changed, you stopped being you. You let people stick a finger in your face and tell you you’re no good, and when things got hard, you started looking for something to blame, like a big shadow. Let me tell you something you already know–the world ain’t all…

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She Was a Beast

“she was fierce, she was strong.  she wasn’t simple.  she was crazy and sometimes barely slept.  she always had something to say.  she had flaws and that was ok.  and when she was down, she got right back up.  she was a beast in her own way, but one idea described her best: she was unstoppable and she took anything she wanted with a smile.” –r.m. drake

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A Beginning (“Small Parts”)

Cold January cracks through the diamond patterned lines on the security glass. The winter sun blinds my puffy eyes, stretches across my white blanket, my white sheets. Everything is white. I look for it in my gut—the comfort of warm familiar glows and dawn, but there is none. And the empty nothingness overwhelms me to a sit-up position. Fear. Fearing fear. This fear that had started spreading through me, and now continued as soon as I wake, like a black ink filling my veins. It has a mouth and a long, wide throat and there’s sharp teeth to catch me.…

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A Trauma Theory

It was my third year in college when I first heard the term string theory. I remember moving forward slightly, anxious for what he’d say next, and as the professor strolled over quantum physics and how this theory could explain all the forces of nature—what it could reveal, the dark mysteries it could possess— I…

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The Elements of Loss

I don’t hear you say my name as you ask why it is I let no one love me. I feel something stir and I laugh. This is my way. There’s no room for clumsy. Take me or leave me, I say I’ll give you one chance when I know I won’t give you any.…

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Daddy’s Game

I imagine you must’ve shut yourself off somehow–the way you’d eventually teach me to do– before you entered my room like a king’s shadow.   I hear the scrape of your jeans your hands hot and big like swings;

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Status Update

Well hello everyone.  I’m mulling over the idea of going to a inpatient month-long treatment facility for people like me.   I’m nervous and scared and not committing myself to the idea yet, but I am wondering if any of you have done this? What was it like?  And how much does it help??? And will…

Madden Me Back

I have lost the need to be someone. It’s strange that when You have one piece left of so many selves And it breaks, shattering your familiar reflection, You–annihilated in the howling– and a certain amount of time will stop mattering as it goes on, and You pool into something–a fine new liquid– black beneath the swollen moon, and then, a tender solid thing.  An awakened body and mind Cast about in the water’s mad rush, not afraid of its depth anymore. A woman now. And a fire stirs–a heat I’ve never heard of. No one ever told me I…

Our Old Friend, Tragedy

Originally posted on Falling Without Wings:
Even though I question this sometimes, it really is true in my opinion, the universe has a way of balancing things out. In theory every person has (I believe) an equal level of good fortune and tragedy in their lives; their tragedies may be different but they are all experienced to teach us some greater lesson; some higher understanding. I was thinking the other night about when people get tragic or scary news in their life, and it got me pondering the possible reasons this happens to good people. Many of us are facing…

Randall Kennedy. Noted.

Hey everyone, thought I’d do something different and make you laugh!  For any of you that have received asshole comments or think you might– this blog post/reblog is for you. Check out how comedian Tom Nardone handled it at his ADHD blog I Am Tom Nardone in his post “Randall Kennedy, I am Here for You.” I’ll give you a little preview, here is just a taste of what asshole Randall said in his comment: Randall: “Tom, I appreciate your narcissistic rants. Wow, blogs! What a wonderful medium for The self-involved. What a fantastic catharsis for the guy with a…

Like Hemingway, some artists can’t break free of the pain that made them creators in the first place.

But she smiled at me so sadly That my anger straightway died If music be the food of love Then laughter is its queen And likewise if behind is in front Then dirt in truth is clean. –Whiter Shade of Pale