Mark,

I am disappearing in all sense of the word.  Tangibly to “spiritually/psychologically” I am fading.   Logic and reason have been my guide on our journey, but you played, and you fell for the last time.  As these things disappear around me, I disappear and I fade in desire.  Fading and disappearing around me along with even a taste of hope.  Hope that you were right and I was wrong.  Clearly you were not.

I hate being right and it doesn’t matter because what is right, is not what is.  Proving right to the wrong is about as sane as Mike.  I still don’t give up, you told me to give up, you even asked me to you sick fuck.  What would you say now, huh?!  You would beat yourself up about these people and come crying to me.  So still… I would be fixing it. I don’t mind for her, she deserves the best.  But I do it for her, not you.

I just see myself disappearing, in all sense of the word.

Mister Insignificant

It is my side of the fence I want to play on.

You question my reasoning?

I don’t care enough to elaborate, now that I have gotten to know you better.

You get some of my time, which I care not to waste on words.

Like a symphony I play my swing all alone in the air.

Tickle my skin in the misty dew resting high in the clouds with the last powerful swing up before my graceful landing back to my flowerbed.

I crawl into my tree-house during the darkest of the night, I see you crossing the street out of the corner of my eye.

You get hit by a bus.

I guess I shouldn’t have the “No boys allowed” sign turned out.

So I fell asleep to the sound of sirens, under the glitter stared milkyway.

Subject: Subject: Subject

Subject myself to be a subject, because your mind can’t work

You use your heart to gain and your mind can’t fit it’s worth

My honesty you can’t understand

because of the conundrum it leaves you in

So do I sit and wait, and wait, and wait?

Wake up Subject Dictatorship

I know myself enough,  I cannot lie to you, to follow would be just that

Do you even know what “to thine own self be true” means, have you read what follows?

Just enough to get by, Subject Dictatorship, just enough to get by

Subject, I say subject yourself with truth, until then will you know or hear me

I refuse to subject myself any further or find another subject.

why talk

The dust on the surface is easy to see, so why do they tell you it is there? 

Being honest and sincere to anyone beyond the dust is like speaking to Helen Keller before she learned to communicate.

Why bother?

It is dust floating from one subject to another to another to another.  It may lift off and what is beneath revealed but then it is just the varnish, then the lacquer, then the grain then the wood and so on.  To many layers to bother with for most people.  So keep on talking to Hellen Keller and breath in and out and go to work and feed the kids and enjoy what you can.  Live without noticing and forget about it because it is really just you now and you in the end. 

Love is still abundant, which is the ironic part about the masquerade in the first fucking place.

Women

woo men. Is that really what we are? Those who woo men or “wife man” as some researchers say?  I like to think we have evolved from the origin of the name that titles our gender.  Though today I looked around and saw few that have.  The constant vulnerability with ignorance and hope that a man can save “her” is so completely common, where I live anyway.  I know my somewhat misandry posts would give the impression that I’m pro-woman, but not this type of woman.  I don’t despise her, nor do I pity her for very long.  I flip-flop on my ideas about her.  I feel like representing myself as a woman of strength and courage for her and a vision of independence so she can see what is possible.  Other days I falter and feed into it because too much honesty for her would crush her simplistic and un-evolved pretty little brain.  Then what would she do?  Is there a solution to this madness? 

It sucks mostly because I see a woman I would love to bring home and then she opens her mouth and a bunch of gibberish comes out that makes it painfully obvious she is in such denial about herself and her desires that I can’t fuck with such innocence or ignorance.  Then I do feel a little sorry for her.  I really don’t like this.  It puts such a damper on my fantasies and my own desires.  I wish I wasn’t such a good person.  I regret to take back the statement, “I should have been born a man” because I have too much heart to take advantage of a willing participant… Becuase these types are too socially ill to accept the consequences whether they realize it or not.  A man would just fuck her and have plenty of ways to rationalize it.

It sucks to be better than men in this way, but it sucks even worse to be a woman like this too.  Because the lost sadness for what is lacking is way to overwhelming and kills my sex drive.

Personality mask: Translucent

I met a personality a few years back and we became friends.  He wore many masks and the one that seems to be a difficult one for him to remove is the translucent one that is like double-sided glass.  I can see through it to him, and all he sees is himself through the eyes of the mask underneath it, which distorts his own view of himself. 

There is no reason to point it out to him because it will do him no good, just hurt him.  So I stay as honest as I can be and gently guide him when he asks for direction or my opinion.  I demand respect as some of his masks demand obedience or lies, which I will not agree to.  This causes some ripples but our friendship has remained.  I love him as he is a good soul, but I pity the masks that have become a part of him. 

I had a friend once, who was dear to my heart.  We were both in recovery at the same time.  He had a few months clean and saw me walking down the street.  Our paths crossed as I wouldn’t avoid him, we were thick as thieves.  He said, “I wish I could take this out of me and give it to you” with a tear in his eye.  I remember the honesty and heartfelt wish he was conveying.  Since he passed I have that same feeling now for others.  This is one of those times.  I wish I could for a minute let him see though the glass as it is, and give him the courage to change and find the freedom he desperately wants but is too fearful to take the action required to attain it.  But it is not mine to give, just as it was not my dear friends to give me sobriety.  A different situation, but the same kind of mask and genuine care.

If I achieve nothing more than learning to live without those kinds of masks that can’t be removed and teaching this to my daughter, I will be a happy woman on my death-bed.  I’ve considered it carefully and some masks are required in this world.  Yet, most will become you if you’re not careful and diligent in seeking the truth from within.  Accountability to yourself is the key to unlocking the masks and allowing yourself to remove them.  The clear sight of who we are without the masks is the goal.  Please feel free to point out my masks as they are.  I am not afraid to take a look, I’ll just be pleased you care enough to let me see what you see if I’m being consumed by them.

If our fingerprints could talk

If our fingerprints could talk, what would they say? Would they speak in unison with one common language or shower us with the black print of the individual fragrance of life? 

To the eye of the lame they would all look the same.  To me, I would see how we are all made with something different to say but only by inspection would I ever get to see these differences.   

I often see only fingerprints… so many that it looks like a black splash of ink on a piece of paper with one picture that the psychiatrist holds out for everyone to describe… “what do you see?”

My filth from work finally washes off

Thinking about the old days… Corporate Whore days as I’ve referred to them as, gives me goose bumps and chills down my spine, the kind that make me nauseated even before the tingle reaches my stomach.  Remembering my after work showers of scrubbing and scouring, yet unable to wash off the filth from work.  Switching soap and shampoo with many other futile experiments attempting to tackle this slimy film that inhabited my body, inside and out.  Yet, I always felt like filling up the tub with alcohol and submerging myself, as if something could get me that clean feeling like the Irish Spring soap commercials.  When in this line of work, nothing has that power but a conformity I wouldn’t subject myself to the degradation of living; which would be a lie anyway.  So, I could never find the right cocktail in the shower to clean away the filth from the corporate world and all it encompassed to me and for me.

Today I work at an auto shop.  Gave up on the rat race and climbed down the ladder and food chain, back to happiness for the time being.  Though I got my hand stuck trying to re-connect a knock sensor and burnt my forearm which left the smudges of dirt and oil and other mechanic fluids all over my clothes and body.  I came home exhausted and for the first time took a shower after work and the filth washed right off… down the drain.  The day was again clean, as I was, with no experimentation of oils, soaps or skin salts.  All I needed was a nail brush and some regular old body wash and a loofa.  My filth from work has finally washed off.

unzipped

His zipper unzipping to the heavens of erotic pleasure is my favorite sound to this day.  I could record it and play it over and over and the smile on my face would remain just as genuine. 

I hope you hear your zipper today.  Hear “His” or “Hers” or whomever’s zipper brings your smile.

I go to work tomorrow at the mechanic shop.  Fuck the erotic writing, the pay sucks and they send you to the ends of the earth expecting you to travel there with no economic plan to get back and have the means to move forward in career or opportunity insinuated. 

When I wake and after dropping off the kiddo to school,  I put on my daisy dukes and tank top, slip on my converse and go to hold a flash light, learn about what’s under and inside the cars that pull in to the bay.  I think I’ll find a story of my own in this Auto shop.  My life is full of the “zipper sound” doing as I wish.  Disregarding the interview invitations at 4x the pay… just to hear the zipper.  I am happy with it… just as it is.  I wish that those who find jelousy in my life will find the freedom that I have to live it as I please.  It is as easy as following the directions of a boxed cake.  So unzip all you want out of life.  It’s just below the button. 

Once again, I hope you sleep well tonight after hearing whatever zipper sound works for you.  Good night.

kindness for weakness

My ex husband told m once that people take my kindness for a weakness.   In this, he was really trying to extract all the good out of me and replace it with his will and my submission to it.  It was easy to read then and easier to read now.  I have learned a lot from this statement though, because there is some truth in it. 

I had to file for sole physical and sole legal custody today because I have come to the conclusion that it is in the best interest of my daughter and her safety.  I am too kind and don’t want to include in the paperwork all the facts about his violence and behavior, but I did, despite my fears.  I did it for my daughter, which makes courage an action of involuntary necessity. 

This makes me wonder why kindness is taken as a weakness.  I believe there are people who find loop holes in their own moral code through opportunities to control or manipulate others and they rationalize it because there is no defense from the kind, so no challenge is presented.  It is sad that most people work this way.  Even the legal assistant helping me with the paperwork offered advice as to not include the good my ex has done in attempting to be a better parent, though I disagreed.  It may not help my case, but I believe kindness is a better tool for strength than weakness.  In weakness, I am totally referring to the real definition.

My favorite line in the movie ‘The Patriot’ is when Mel Gibson’s character says, “I am a parent, I have not the luxury of principles.”  Being a parent I understand this.  Protecting your children and their healthy and safe upbringing comes before everything.  Why is telling the truth making me feel so badly then?  I have not budged on my principles, I have not lied or exaggerated.  I have to see my kindness as a strength.  It is only a weakness if you allow it to be.  So I say, be strong in your kindness and the strength you will receive will protect you from those that try to use it against you.   Some days you will meet those of us who are real and sincere, and we will commend you for being so.  I can only encourage my own life to grow in the direction I am inspired to go and to live today as if I was the woman I aspire to become.

But, boy do I need a hug.  My independence has changed for the better and I seek human understanding and love in moments like this.  It is far better than doing it all on my own, though I have no complaints if I were… For all the love of the Gods I wouldn’t be who I am if I hadn’t experienced all that I have.  So if you read this tonight, please show some kindness the next time you have the chance to take advantage of someone and think about who you want to be first.