I try to soften the worlds blows by
surrounding myself with pillows
I never was the Barbie Doll type
as a child, but maybe that was
due to someone else’s influence
I live in a building with the
majority being active addicts
I am in Recovery
Does it tempt me?
I remember when I sold my soul
to the Angel of Darkness
I now have it back
Tattered and Weak? yes
but I have it back!
I have sound proofed my door
to the best of my ability
to block out the drunken tirades
that occur in my hallway that
add to the sound pollution
that gives me anxiety…So,
I have to create my own World
I am a flower child
surrounded with pillows but….
if you look at the top of the picture
you will see that I might have
hung up the gloves but they are still
obtainable and close..
not to fight the world, I tried that
in the past but to fight for a life and
a future that for the first time I feel
anything is possible,
I want to lose weight so I can feel sexy
I’m skinny now but I feel scrawny
maybe I need money to
buy a better wardrobe
I want to be in love because that’s
what we are here for to Love
have babies and grow old and die…right?
I see people excited because
Kanye West is in town
I see people devastated because
Whitney Houston died
Didnt she have a full life,
money, fame and a grand burial
Why do some have fame even
though they were self-destructive
and broke the law
while others are buried
behind a prison
in an unmarked
grave due to nobody claiming them.
Not everyone had O.J.s legal team….
so there they lie in an unmarked grave
Would it be wrong to believe
in a cult theory or lifestyle
simply because it fits your comfort zone?
Do people who think they are going to win
the Mega Millions Lotto, are they
sadly pathetic or delusional or
people who have faith and hope?
What is right and what is wrong
because it all seems very blurry and subjective.
Would I be crazy to come up with
a mind-set that suits me
and call it reality because I feel like a fish
swimming up-stream and I am tired,
I want to find peace within and breath without
the constrictions and gasps
due to anxiety.
I asked my mother due to being in psychotherapy if there was a psycho-social from my childhood due to the long history. She said” Yes it is in your folder” My folder? I responded as she gestured towards the file cabinet. I knew that she kept some memorabilia of our family in storage since the only pictures she mainly displayed were of her and her parents, aunts etc. on the walls. While I was trying to heal and deal with my past trauma I had read a lot of books and one said that you might (makeup) your past to explain your discomfort. I had said to myself maybe I had exaggerated my thoughts about my mother’s emotional and physical abuse. Maybe she was just being a mom under pressure.I looked at the folder and instead of it being baby pictures, the artwork of me as a child instead it was her writings. Journals she wrote about what a loser I was. She called me a (low life). I tried to act like I didn’t see anything bad as I hid the papers in my shirt. I finally had proof that I was not a monster, I was not a bad egg, I was a child that didn’t know how to cope with my situation. I finally found the Psychosocial and it said was that I was an ATTRACTIVE 12-year-old…omg my heart melted, my mother had told me I wasn’t pretty as a child. When I asked her if she knew what was in the psychosocial she just said, ” I think it said, oh yeah you were an underachiever” “Oh”, I said and continued reading how I was above average and superior in my IQ tests. I started shaking and although I could overpower my mother easily now I still felt that fear like I did as a child. She had the power to make me feel horrible then and I needed something showing that it was not just me. That I was not bad and someone should have helped me. She got up and started talking about her and her meltdowns and her sleep deprivation etc and I do not lie my skin crawled as she moved past me. I have never felt anything like that in my life. My skin actually did a dance. I have the papers that give me the closure I needed. I showed them to my therapist and there was no doubt in their mind that my mother was mentally unstable and a “Monster” in one’s words. She had a lot of good things about her as well and I can forgive her and myself now because I realize she was sick. All I wanted was someone to see it from my side so I wouldn’t feel so alone.
Not the boogie man that scares you
but a boyfriend of mine in the past
GO BOOGIE GO BOOGIE his
friends would say as he danced..
he had learned to adapt by
becoming his surroundings
He was Italian but he joined a Hispanic gang
He was not tough but he needed a family
he had a good heart and
He didn’t like to fight so he learned to
BREAKDANCE as a way to integrate
I would roll my eyes when
the crowd cheered him on
I had taken over as his mommy
and although there were times
I felt used and needed help
It was the downside of trying
to save someone and be an enabler
at the same time
I went to Prison and he Overdosed
while I was away and his body is in
some unmarked grave I have searched
I have searched and searched
but to no avail, although I was not
happy with our relationship at the time
He deserved better …
I hope if there is an afterlife that
is better than here
and pain and fear is no
longer a factor
I hope that you are still
BREAKDANCING and I will
no longer roll my eyes
but cheer you on.
I was arrested and my drugs were taken away
Talk about culture shock
Wait I need my Methadone!!!
I need my cigarette and a
cup of tea in the morning
So I spent three yrs wondering
how my sleepy friends were doing
and if they talked about me
I spent a year in isolation
counting bricks in the wall
and thinking soon
this will be over and I can
be around my friends again
wait till I tell them about what
I went through, they will be so
attentive and entertained
I will be the life of the party
I got back to Manhattan and
couldn’t wait to see my old
buddies, they wont be hard
to find, same program,same corner
I walked up like I was making
a guest appearance on a TV show
I started rambling, smiling and
waiting to be the center of attention
they were all looking puzzled not
because I was back but for the fact
they never noticed that I had left…
Due to having a multicultural upbringing I never had a chance to get comfortable in a common mindset. My mother was an atheist on Mondays and an Agnostic by Wednesday. My father was supposed to be an Irish Catholic but he did not push that perspective on me due to him fighting his own demons. The only higher power I learned to believe in was escaping with drugs. I would hear others claim their GODS and their prejudices and I thought everyone sounded delusional by finding a religion that suits their position in society. A friend/ mentor of mine kept asking me to pray in the mornings and I thought she was crazy because that would be “fake” and that would be the opposite of being (Holier than thou), right? Out of desperation and people pleasing I finally woke up and after doing all the basics like brushing my teeth, using the bathroom and trying to make sure I didn’t feel ugly when I looked in the mirror I sat there on my couch and said,” Yo, H.P. (Higher Power) I don’t believe in you but then again I can’t take my life anymore so this is a futile attempt to lighten the load I carry” . I continued doing this with an attitude and suddenly realized that I was not as angry with H.P. anymore and I felt a little less bitter and hopeless. I am not writing this in an attempt to sway anyone or tell people what their HP is or what they should do but I am saying that by not believing in humanity and any higher power it made me hopeless and without faith in anything there was no hope. I can’t define my HP but it is a personal relationship and although I still struggle it has lifted part of a load that I could not lift by myself.