Friday, October 26, 2018

the leech

she sees reflected
a huge, pulsating, grey leech
attached to her

she looks down
at the man down on
her and sighs

just a dude
the guy I picked up
the cute blonde

but in the
mirror, he looks different and
she feels numb

he hasn't arms
no legs or feet or
any recognizable features

she feels heat
his warm, wet, hot breath
and another sensation

shifting her hips
she feels him press harder
he bites her

"ow," she murmurs
but softly, encouragingly, he continues
she wants more

her heavy eyes
look again to the mirror
her body limp

the leech is
growing-filling with her blood
she can't move

her eyes close
she is close to coming
her pleasure pulsates

her life empties
into the round, tooth-filled mouth
of the leech

as she dies
his greed consumes him and
the leech pops.

written: 10/18-22/18

I had a thought, what if vampires really look like leeches, and that is what is reflected?  And thus, the leech was born.  I wrote in bits over a few days, which is rare for me to do with a poem. I also wrote it as a series of Collom Lunes, because it is my form of choice. (I love those little fuckers!) There is probably some sort of metaphor for my Depression here, but I am hoping that I am finally past the I-may-die-from-this part of my illness. Anyway... I wish that I could draw, because the visual of the leech in my head is pretty gross and I wish I could post it here. I may try to draw it anyway and see if I can come close to my vision. 

Thursday, October 25, 2018


Keeping trees alive
To harvest their blood, for our
Pancakes and waffles.

written: 9/24/15

So Facebook reminded me that I tweeted this poem a few years ago and it cracked me up. I didn't remember it at all and it was one of those moments when I thought I just might be talented. And if not talented, then I am still so fucking funny. I named it Maple here because I don't tend to title my twitter poems, but that feels naked without a title here. 

Monday, October 1, 2018

Who I Want to Be

I want to be The Dr.'s Vincent
Creating beauty from the pain
Joy from the Storm

But I am not there yet
My fingers touch the keys
And what flows is just my pain
Lacking any ability to see light

I want to write of how much
I hate her
In her ignorance
And undeserved power
But have it transform

I want to write of how much
He broke my heart
And how mad I am at him
And his false accusations
But have it transform

I want to write of how
Fundamentally stupid I find her
And how she refuses to see the real me
And the real her
But have it transform

I want to write of how much
I still miss him every damn day
Even though he has been gone so long
And happy not being here
But have it transform.

I want to pull myself
I want to transform.

written: 10/01/18

So mainly what has happened here is that I did not adjust well to the change in my antidepressant. I went from feeling apathy and hopelessness to ALL the feelings, ALL at once. It was overwhelming to say the least. This was a temper tantrum I had after my husband fell asleep before washing the dishes after he promised that he would. (Bless his heart). Shortly after this, I called my doctor and we lowered my dosage and now I can feel appropriate things at appropriate times. I want to just delete this post because it embarrasses me, but that seems dishonest. If I am going to be confessionalist (which seems to be my goto), then every now and then I am going to post something embarrassing.