Soon enough

Soon enough

 

In 30 seconds

you will be underwater

In 40 seconds

you will be

unconscious

 

In 45 seconds

the light will turn green

And in 50

you’ll nearly kill your little sister.

 

In 55

she’ll realized what’s happened.

And in 60

she’ll panic.

 

 

“Dude… would you be okay

if we stop at dads?”

I remember that his wife is home today.

 

 

“No I just really need a drink of water.”

No man, I just don’t feel too well.

 

 

I feel….

warm.

That kind of warm that makes you… tired.

I blink.

 

 

and then…

Something’s gone wrong.

Continue reading “Soon enough”

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My name is

My name is

My name is

And I don’t understand why

we’re hugging

Why

we’re in a circle.

Why

we’re here.

 

My name is

And I don’t know you.

Or you.

My name is

And I don’t understand why they didn’t show up again.

My name is

And I’m bored.

Tired.

Hungry.

Walking in with McDonalds in my hand.

My name is…

And we’re late again.

 

I can’t talk to my friends.

I can’t play in the rooms here.

My name is

And I know the serenity prayer.

My name is

And I

grew up

here…

 

My name is

As I stick my right foot in

Arms wrapped, holding other people tight.

My name is

And this is how I spend my Friday night.

 

My name is

And I’m fourteen.

Watching a whole room of two hundred people get clean.

 

My name is

And I have a little sister

By the age of 12.

Her name is

And we stare from the table at the “12 Step” books on the shelf.

 

Our names are

And we grew up in the collective of NA.

Narcotics Anonymous

In rooms that would

Remember our names.

Monster

Monster

he hides under my bed

he hides inside my closet

he hides within those blankets

those pillows

those jackets

he hides within those jeans

he hides

here

let me set the scene:

 

there’s an abandoned home

where it’s all colored monochrome

a layer of dust has turned the colors

and now turns away any others

 

who would step foot here?

who would dare live here?

who would dare come here –even to move out?

 

when he hides

sucking even the walls dry

of memories

of feelings

preparing you better for the leaving

 

he has decided it’s better this way

if you don’t even want to come to move out

surely the move would never be blocked by doubt

 

he hides

in the mattress

in the wave chair

in the dresser

in the headboard

and in all miscellaneous personal treasure

 

who would dare step foot in his room?

who would dare come and face him?

when you’ve run from him for so long

this is no longer a place for you –so go along

 

he hides

in the cabinet

in the spot where the bed used to be

where the Christmas tree used to be seen

 

and he controls

in fear

in dread

in that lump in your throat

in that turn you make to walk away

 

when you finally have no other choice

you have to stand and fight

and you stare right into the face

right into the face of that Monster –that you created.

 

he’s inside the closet you’re cleaning out

he’s inside the drawer you’re cleaning out

he’s inside the bathroom that’s a dingy white

he’s inside the shower you slept in that one night

 

he’s inside the window you now have to close

he’s inside the stuffed animals and stoves

he’s inside the litter box that was feared to be cleaned

and inside those fire alarms, your old fiend

 

why?

because he lived there too

through good and bad

he was the memories made

 

so you wait and wait

because if you’re at a distance you know someone else has to do it for you

you know you have to move out

but if you’re not there to help then someone else has to come

and they have to clean it out instead of you

so you can avoid him a little longer and make do

 

but now –he’ll live there forever

the Monster has won

 

he’s packed up

what wasn’t dealt with was thrown in a box

“i’ll face him later”

with pitiful fists and rocks

 

and now he’ll be moved into the new house

this old abandoned one will be sold

and he’ll be a ghost to anyone new

but when you…

oh if you step through

that door he’ll remind you

that:

 

“I live in the closet”

“I live in the place your bed once stood”

“I live in the place where I ended your childhood”

Enzymes 1 Through 3

Enzymes 1 Through 3

Alcohol dehydrogenase

you hide your face.

Acetaldehyde

alcoholism comes from the inside.

Acetaldehyde dehydrogenase

with a whole life to deface.

Glutathione

but this is your last one.

 

Enzyme number one

and the cap comes undone.

Enzyme number two

your blood becomes an alcoholic stew.

The result argues to me,   that

it was fresh-brewed you see.

Enzyme number three, supplied in short

and you’re passed out on the floor.

 

Alcohol dehydrogenase

to breakdown drink once you’ve had your taste.

Acetaldehyde

toxic ethanol still to be modified.

Acetaldehyde dehydrogenase

are attracted in a haste.

Gutathione

to assist number three in this last reaction phase.

 

Enzyme number one

and again you have to do a grocery run.

Enzyme number two

with bottles hidden under pillows just for you.

The result can hardly see,   that

addiction gets quite weighty,   when

Enzyme number three, supplied in short

has you passed out on the floor.

10,000 FEET

unnamed-24

10,000 FEET

10,000 feet and I’m all high strung.

10,000 feet and my muscles are wrung.

High above all else,

Here where the snow never melts.

An even greater achievement than last time,

To make this hard a climb.

Twice I’ve made it with determined intent,

If I am not to go back I think I’m content.

Massive mountains are now mini,

And round trees are truly skinny.

Up here where the air is thin,

And too long a break turns your limbs to tin.

Not quite at my mountain’s top which stands unreachable,

Yet I feel welcome as one of her people.

“Will this satisfy the little girl who wanted to go to the top?”

My feeling of pride knows not where to stop.

For I am 10,000 feet from where you look up.

10,000 feet and blessed with this close up.

Tradition: Thanksgiving

Tradition: Thanksgiving Dinners

Tradition is gathering around a turkey.

Tradition is a loud table with family to spare.

Tradition to send food around that table, casseroles to share.

 

Everyone brings at least one something or more,

Sisters and husbands throwing open the host’s front door.

 

Pies and cookies and brownies all brought for dessert,

But always first,

 

The corn and potatoes and turkey of course.

The young cousins upstairs sing until their voices go hoarse.

And later after dinner that’s been served at noon,

 

With all the men shouting at the football game soon,

We’re called downstairs to look through Black Friday magazines.

To circle and initial what it is we want for christmas.

 

Granna hands out to the cousins festive advent calendars,

While adults fill leftovers into take home canisters.

 

Football and talking.

Laughing while empty cider bottles are set aside.

 

Clean up starts, and we’re asked to pitch in.

The last of the food is pushed away,

“we have too many leftovers anyway.”

 

Tradition at this time keeps us there ’till six or eight.

And then everyone slowly filters out.

Goodbyes and hugs said at the door while reluctant cousins hide.

 

Tradition at this time brings a smile to even the oldest cousin’s face.

Some sit chatting in chairs while the littlest sit on the floor, legs folded in place.

 

Tradition pauses each year waiting for the next Thanksgiving.

This is our wonderful tradition, before the day with sales of no shipping.

 

The CAT

img_9309The CAT

The cat will not harm you.

She’ll eat and sleep.

Barely making more than a peep.

 

She’ll follow you around and keep you safe,

in her own little way, here for your embrace.

 

She’ll never walk out,

She’ll never curse your name.

She’ll love you forever,

and sleep beside you who’s in pain.

 

Because you’re their human, and you mean just that much,

even if he didn’t make you feel anything such.

 

She’ll be there through it all,

after he’s watched you fall.

She’ll become your shadow to make sure you’re okay,

and sleep through it with you all of the day.

 

Because you’re their human and she’s here to protect you,

now that you other two have said adieu.

 

The cat won’t force you to stay behind,

give up your weekend for what they had in mind.

They won’t tell you to stop in the midst of grief,

they’ll curl up next you and fall back asleep.

 

The cat won’t walk out,

not because the door is closed,

but because you’re their human, and you mean just that much.

And they’ll let let you know this, when he didn’t do anything such.

 

The cat will need let out,

but she’ll come back at a moments call,

because she heard your sniffling out in the hall.

 

The cat might not be there the entire time,

but she’ll be there for the biggest part of your emotional climb.

 

While instead he walked out, intent to leave you there,

there on your knees with his threat now more than a scare.

 

The cat is going to be there to tell you you do mean the most,

when he couldn’t do it, despite being so close.

 

The cat will be there with comforts to spare,

to show you how very much they really do care.

 

Because you’re their human, and you mean just that much.

Even when he didn’t make you feel anything such.