so I was reading my last post and yea I still pretty much feel liek that biut the thing is I had someone say to me the other day… I probabaly keep seeing visions of him bc I;m afraid of running into him and then my mind screams… I aint afraid of fucking mitch crawfors that goddammed fuckup self serviing sorry excuse for a spine… but then later I think God… what if I am afriad of him? and then I really begin to fear…
so
Swimming out from the depths of my own distruction, I was not able to save him, even by surrendering all sense of self, matireal and emotional… but i will not anymore, and I told him too…
sadly this time I think the letting go of the chemicals will be more difficult than the letting go of the man… and I had such high expectations for him too… even for a possible “us” and truely thought I was being realistic… oh he played the game well for a bit… maybe he is a better hustler than I give him credit for, but then again, he let his game show….
Casey had more then just me convinced that I was his leading lady, an diddint forget about that for a sec… Sure I knew in the back of my mind no man could really be that enamored with one woman…. not in reality, but then again I didn’t have to live in reality with him…
maybe that is where my dissapointment lies in more than I realize… maybe this one I expected to get a better run out of, better sex from, better high and more constant… but none of these prevailed… perhaps this man didn’t let me down at all, but rather my expectations…. could my junky self really be working this hard in the background?
I call it my demons… I think they’ve always been there… since I was small even, like a spiritual flaw I inherited from my father’s gene… but then again, my mother always said God wouldn’t give such challenges to people who wern’t worthy of being conditioned to be in His holy army…
admittedly, I never liked this explinations and the implications it makes about God, but I did hear a differant verson of this notion the other day… something like, the devil does not want to turn the weak and easily suaded… those are easy to get on his side, and ya know what they say about easy… no, satan wants to turn those that are strong fighters, filled souls, deep hearted… imagine if he had an army of evil spreading fighters like that on his team….
i have more, but must check on job listings, this is the real world after all
please continue to help Mitch.
I pray that your will is for him not to go to prison.
I pray that your will is for me to help him someway with living arrangements.
I pray that your will for him is for him to be near his children as they grow up,
not only for their sake, but for his.
I know that you are infinite in knowledge of each of us before we were ever created
and that all paths aimed for you have turns that eventually lead to the greater good,
but I implore you, Lord he as suffered so much already,
please allow this struggle to be prison free and children near.
I feel I have a chance to actively work as your servant in this time, Lord…
Help guide me to be in the right and algin myself with your will,
so that I may be of use to my dear friend.
This I humbly ask in your name- Amen
Dear God,
Thank you for my life and the chance to re align myself with your will.
Thank you for giving me a partner to build my communication and trust.
Thank you for the increasing distaste towards using drugs and drug dealers.
Thank you for giving me friends who will call regardless of the choices I make.
Thank you for my vehicle and being able to help so many people through its use.
Thank you for a warm safe home with food, blankets, hot water, radio, and my cat…
how is it that a telephone can ring and you know he knows you are at work
how is it a telephone can ring and he says there was a message but there is not
how is it you can tell him you get paid in tow days and then he gets dissapointed saying,
then why did you make it sound like you were getting it right away
——————————————————————————————————————————
how is it that you want to be so mad at him b/c you can tell by his voice what he’s been doing,
yet ou are just so trhrilled at the notion it was him calling, even if there is no proof
how is it that you just don’t want to help him one more time
yet you know you already will or else you wouldn’t of offered to inform of your nex payday
——————————————————————————————————————————-
connections… are the a return of enery sent out in the world, hitting and bouncing a round
but yet are some connections are just so frequent that thier path becomes routed
and the energy is returned more quickly than you would think
connections… are they a better recalled the more times they are made and
therefore maybe more desired for or more comfortable to recommect to a fammiliar
connections… maybe jus coincidence… or is it god?
———————————————————————————————————————————–
He has attepmted to beclose to god, in fact can call me out when i am healthy but spiritually sick
while he himself is deathly sick and yet spiritually fit… does this even make sense?
what do you like? and I couldn’t answer… he made me shy somehow. Dare I speak my dirty little secrets to a man I had just met? but then again I had told him so much other stuff… and he always laughs, I think I gotta take that as he thinks what i say is cute, or makes him happy or something, but i almost always tell him ‘ its not funny! don’t laugh at me!’ Maybe I really am as self-conscious as he thinks I am… hmmm….
so.
I’ve always been excited by the idea of loud throaty sounds i can make a man succumb to…
a clasped hand on the side of my face pushing me up into a kiss…
a bite at the nape of my neck when the intensity of pelvic bones pressed together becomes euphoric…
seeing the viens of my lovers neck pulsing in rythem of his stroke as i bury my face into him…
sweat dripping off a brow bone onto my flesh as our bodies slide against the heat…
but also
the touch of rough fingertips gliding gently over the hidden creases of my skin…
whispers of emotion as lips glance across an earlobe…
slow smooth gliding just to feel my body wrapped around his shaft…
smiles into sparkling eyes after a soft probing kiss….
arms wrapped in a desperate embrace, almost clutching but more so feeling…
the sounds of breathing in my ear as my head rests on his chest, listening to the calm beat of his heart…
can i be an animal in the bedroom? of course and that’s hot and sexy and fulfilling, but also i am a female who likes to be touched like a lady, to feel the connection and just get lost in lazy loveliness discovering my lover for who he is too.
I awoke w a start 10 min ago~
My body said yes but my mind said no~
A piercing in the back of arm then a pause for my veins~
A waiting for my body to get warm again~
Good god another shot for me? But i haven’t done that shit for over 7 mos see~
So then i sat, this body tease attacking me~
And my head began to shrink~
An all i could do was think~
Please god, not like this~
Please god don’t take away Mitch~
An then the muscle aches began~
Like I had been shooting for days again~
Another piercing, this one in the back of my thigh~
An all i could do was sit on my bed, rock and cry~
Doesn’t he know this is how my husband died~
I grabbed my phone, to call and say i love you~
Not wanting to let another go to bed without hearing it too~
Please god, not two for two~
You know they say it was I who killed my heart that night~
But really I just couldn’t make it right~
That’s the worst thing about this life~
I am powerless over who chooses to fight~
but i keep on loving no matter what they do~
because darlings i understand i am just like you~
with nothing to say though i feel i must update the world, mind compelling me to talk and wanting everyone else to shut up yet i do not know what to say… my cousoler wants me to write again, start at a writers group in barnes n noble or some coperate run of the mill individuals like that… i dunno, sounds intriguing yet i think nausiating as well… she also said mitch lied, letting me on like he did, knowing he had a baby mama and still telling me i should respect myself enough to let go of all my play boys and i did, but for why she asked, so he could be the only one talking advantage of me? i never looked at him like that, it kinda broke my heart a little…. not that i beleived for one second i had let him into my heart, but then again, whos lying now?… so now i have to get blood work done at the doctor, will be a good looking kid if thats what comes to light, i’ll give him that… ya know what i betcha i wouldn’t even like him now, i mean he always did look the sextest to me all strung out and sweaty and sunkin in…. hes beginning to fill out again and worries about his dad and repairing his marraige and his kids and work and definately not me…. wish he coulda been a prince charming though, ya know…. there is a new one again. and again i’ll tell you this one’s differant, still keeping close to my age bracket though, so thats good… so how is he differant you ask, well he says all the right things at all the right times, he doesn’t think im broken, well ok i told him i was and he said thats okay hes a bit broke himself and it still doesn’t make him think of me any less… i think somedays i’m having a mental breakdown [... i'm headed for a break down and i dunno why, im not crazy im just a little unwell right now i know you cant tell, but soon enoughh ya gonna think of me and how i used to be....] speaking of that I was talking about my mother the other day as well and ya know i really thought i had gotton over all the crap she put me through as a child and now im kinda wondering if i merely justified it in my head, telling myself she was only doing what she knew best and well i proboably would be just as selfish too, looking at how hard she worked and how little she had back then…. but ya know i thought i was over the anger of it all, today i feel like i am my father child and always will be and thats all there is, my gradparents raised me more than anything really but they are not around anymore either… i want to make so many amends to mitch too but i just dont feel like i have the right to bother him with me right now either…. sigh… im gonna try n type a fiction now… more lata
why not leave him alone anyways
end one relationship on a positive
that would be a good differant…
everything happens for a reason
but i still meant every word of it
can’t even feel that mood anymore now
he laid in my virgin bed with his workboots on
God’s will not ours
my plants dying
he’s still married
our P.O. said no
yet my sick mind kinda likes that
i really am not tripping, or obsessing even… which is strange b/c as much as he told me about not tripping, i was sure i would, after all, he’s had me pegged from day one… maybe i am changing, of course i did sleep with a married man [i slept with a married man! omg! what the fuck am i doing?]
Funni thing is we talk about everything, from cooking to sex to our dads to work to recovery to living arragments, yet i over heard him talking and he said his dad’s name is mark [i think he did, anyway] and i wanted to ask him about it, but i said nothing…
funni thing is, he always blasts me with the truth which is great for me and one of the reasons i crave our weekly talks, and last night we talked for an hour or more and then he started a fire and i thought about christmas stalkings over the mantle and i almost cried… i never come to tears in front of everyone, but i didn’t feel the usual dread over ‘omg- im bout to cry infornt of someone….’
funni thing is, i took two showers since this morning and i still smell liek him and yet it is not driving me increaddably horney and diviant, but more like a comforting breeze that floats by….
funni thing is, as comfortable and relaxed as i was all night, i could only dream of is mother walking in on us, yet the dream wasn’t making me anxious, it was more like a small humor, mixed with – acceptance of being busted, and while she was shocked, she wasnt upset or there wasn’t a tense feeling in the dream…
funni thing is, neither of us was weird the next morning, not that i could detect yet though, and really… its quite nice =]
so many things to me, and then he kissed me, but still i listened to him. I heard his words and his voice over and over in my mind, trying to sleep the night before court. But all i could feel was his hips pressed againt mine, hands clasped around my waist so tight holding me against him. my mind can see the close-up of his frayed jeans between my fingers, though I pretty sure my eyes were closed the whole time. “wind-shield time” “not gonna co-sign your bullshit” “well, there you go, fuck it, lets just go get high, that’ll solve everything!” “the year you’ll loose from your kids is really so much more time than you think, but you know that” “maybe sanity isn’t just peace of mind, maybe its just not doing the same thing over again, cause you know the definition of insanity, dont you?” yeah, he’s got the words to give me, but then again so does anyone who’s been in and out of the program as many tmes as he has… and we’ve talked to death the heavyier con vs pro side of getting into a relationship right now, so why why why did i kiss him again, and again and… an hour passed in his father truck last night, while we were necking and i could see the brightly colored childseat in the backseat out of the corner of my eye… but that was yestrday and today i have only less than 2 hours to deal with bullshit. maybe i should pray more. i dont know why i associaye trust with letting a guy get some from me and then getting all offended when that “trust” is severed. HA!
tonight he said to me” you we’re right, this,[us thing] is fucking my brain up, i mean i am still married and i’m feeling bad and i dont know, ya know, i think i can’t messing around with anything at all, right now, so…” I always looked into his eyes at somepoint, eveytime he’s said something to me, but tonight i could not. i just got up and pretended i wasn’t listening as i walked from the table. and i felt justified in doing that! but really now i feel kinda bad, and i wanna be mad but i cannot. He’s been a friend first and foremost.
“what i really need to do is…” go water my effing plant and stop worring about boys.
The only constants in this life are love… and change. The weather has been the most noticeable change here lately. Mid-October, she sees dried leaves in the seat of her car as she closes the moon-roof on the way to work on a windy afternoon. She knows the sun will be down by the time she goes on break at seven, yet she holds onto the false hope that it still may be up just long enough to warm her back for a moment while she smokes her lone menthol cigarette for the day.
Her mind has been doing that to her a lot lately, teasing her with hopes she knows won’t come true. She checks her phone, 4:15, it says and she thinks about her husband. People are walking their dogs and mowing their lawns. A few kids run across the street as her car passes them by. She will be in a safe place soon - a place that is usually filled with laughter, friends and strong coffee, but not right now.Today is Sunday and no one will be there, not for another two to four hours anyway, but that is okay, she knows she needs to write. About what though, is entirely another question altogether. She told her new best -friend B, just the other day, that she felt like it was time to write again. B didn’t even know she was a writer.
“Oh yes, I’ve been published twice,” she merrily exclaimed, “A short story and a poem.”
She went on to explain how that was in high-school, sophomore year to be exact. It has been thirteen years since then – seems so long when you count the time. She has been writing ever since, but hasn’t had that push to publish anything since.
She thinks again of her husband and those two years she didn’t write anything at all. Once, toward the end, they began writing a story together. It was his idea actually.
“I wanna write a book,” he said abruptly one afternoon, “you gotta journal?”
She knew exactly which one to use – she had received a three pack one year from an admirer and still had one untouched. It was hardback, faux-leather cover with gold-foil leaflets- perfect.
“Here,” she said, “use this one.”
“Okay. Here’s what we’ll do. I’ll write something and then I’ll put it-,” his eyes searched the livingroom, “here- over the fireplace. If it’s sitting here you’ll know it’s your turn to write in it, okay?”
She was floored and flattered all at once. Quite frankly he never asked for her help in anything, not that he ever required any either. Her eyes sparkled at this new opportunity.
“okay,” she mustered.
And then they sat together, on the leather laz-e-boy love seat that faced the fireplace and nothing else and he wrote. With her small head against his strong shoulder, he wrote and she listened to the scribbling of a pen. She’s not sure how long it was when she woke from new days’ sun creeping up her side from the sliding glass window. He lay, still sleeping, journal in on hand, the other across her back. She smiled and rose, turning the fireplace off with a flick of a switch and silently went to the kitchen to put on coffee.
These were the memories of time her soul cried for in the dead of night. The ones her body long to yet enjoy and she didn’t want to let go of. She knew she had to let go of him though, it was on days like this that their old world seemed perfect. It wasn’t always like that with them, sure, it had been a year since they shared their last joy, but there had been fear too.
She always feared loosing him. Like in some sick, sad, sadistic way she knew he would die soon. And he did. Way too soon after their short two years together, way too soon for his brief twenty-eight years here. Way too soon for his four year old son, who cherished his time and her two sons, who were just learning what a father without a constant beer in his hand could be like. And he was awesome in all aspects. He catered to each and every human being like it was some new-found shiny shell on a beach a millions, seen for the very first time.
People could sense this about him somehow. They were drawn – he had that sort of presence about him. Well, not toward black people, but everyone else. Children, old ladies, young guys and girls – OMG the girls! They melted and swooned and he always laughed them off, politely, like some aristocrat accepting his latest society honor. It wasn’t just his looks or his manner or his presence. He was a genius too, well beyond his years in chemistry and math. He had read obscure writers and could man-handle any complicated labor task placed before him. A modern-day renaissance man.
She stops for a moment, sipping overly-sweet hazelnut coffee, remembers the conversation with her best friend.
“So, what will you write about this time?” B asks.
” I dunno-” reflects for a moment, “I think about a girl – an aristocrat girl who grows up to triumph over trials and demons of her childhood.” she concludes.
“A girl?”
” Yeah, a girl.”
It’s been a week and her writing has only just begun- still too early to know if she is writing about him again, or herself. Sometimes she forces herself to write about him, when she’s been already crying, in the dark. At night. Alone. In her husbands brother’s house. She writes and remembers and cries more. He said to her in a dark car once, while he was tired and driving and she hadn’t stopped talking for over an hour,
“Why are you always trying to tell me things so late at night?!”
She stopped mid-sentence, faced him squarely and said, “because it’s easier for me to say stuff in the dark.”
He pressed his lips together then and just nodded, let her her ramble on, the remainder of the trip.
That image is so clear to her today, especially when she stops and tries to remember his words. His actions, expressions, clothes, smells – those are all too easy, but the words. The words were too far and in between. Though, to be honest, she always wanted him to hear her. He would have to physically quiet her at night to get her to sleep, on the nights they did sleep. He would start out behind her, tuning the TV to a favorite Sopranos episode, waiting for her to lose all interest anything else. Then he would reach ahold of her far wrist pulling and rolling her over, half onto him, so that her head rested on his chest and her legs tangled up into his.
“Hear that?” he’d say. Then he would drum his fingertips ever so lightly on her back, in rhythm his heartbeat. Soon his breathing would slow and she would count the seconds of his exhale and she would count the seconds of his inhale and match her breathing to his, falling asleep in complete submergence of him. Sometimes they would sleep for days on end that way.
She remembered her first treatment center. He was still alive then, but it was her first seperation from him. She knew that count by heart though, and would tap her fingers beside her pillow, counting her exhale and counting her inhale, desperately lulling herself to sleep. She doesn’t even recall now if it ever worked, and she doesn’t even try anymore. She knows, despite the pills, and without the drugs and alcohol, that she might just not sleep. She has accepted the bags under her eyes. Bags that have been there so long, she doesn’t even try to cover them with makeup anymore. This makes her remember the photo albums though…
That first time she had opened up her family photo albums after he passed, it must of been spring of 2008, the pictures were there- pictures of the last holiday season with him and her boys. Oct-Dec of 06 it was- like a lemon-drop, knowingly bittersweet, yet still a twang of surprise as she turned the pages and saw all the smiling faces. The postcard-picture-perfect of the mantle and all their children’s stockings. The big, live Christmas tree, blocking the entire sliding patio door. The very first one they ever picked out together and had to pulley-lift over the main entrance banister, knocking pine needles all over and laughing and cussing out that pine for an hour afterwards as they tried to drive the stands old, rusted, peg screws into. A faint smile had crossed her lips as a tear slid down her cheek.
That Christmas both boys got new wardrobes and about three-hundred dollars of toys apiece. The following Christmas, she was waitressing, had an addicted boyfriend and spent her last twenty buying Christmas presents from the clearance isle for her kids. It was not a happy time. Well, not for her. Her son’s didn’t seem to notice though, as they unwrapped stacking blocks and fridge magnets, running off to play with them before the wrapping even hit the floor. Her oldest didn’t seem to mind either when his dad neglected to invite mom to his seventh birthday three weeks later. So she got high, sitting atop a bunk bed, trying to lodge a spoon into the fan assembly so they could have light and no wind and all the while hating herself for sharing the last baggie with a man who’d just sleep with her later instead of with her husband she had buried not three months before. Hating herself because she promised if she ever picked up again it’d be with him, where he was buried, and knew knew he was just there, sickened and saddened, rolling around in his grave, not a mile down the road from where she sat. Getting high in what would of been his kids room, though she hasn’t picked up since.
She doesn’t have that boyfriend anymore either. He tried to punch her once and she called the cops on him and he was done. Of course, after her first marriage to an abusive husband of 7 years, that lesson was well learned. That was something else about Casey. He would never hit a woman, or child for that matter, and it wasn’t something he need to proclaim- like her first husband did and lied. With him one just felt safe. Well she did, anyhow. Funny thing is, she had seen him kill. Well, not at first. At first it was all stories eluding to the chaotic mishaps he had been in. Stories of soul-brothers who had since run so far from the law, he could only wonder after their well being. Then there were the fast cars and meddling police stories. The near-misses and the hot chick vs. four brothers stories. When he died his younger brother wrote something like, ‘May you lie next to someone to share your stories with.’ He always lit up when he told those stories. You could feel the thrill of danger and the excitement of chaos through him when he spoke of such things. If anyone else told her such outrageous tales, she’d never believe them, but with Casey, she believed all things were truth and still she cannot let go.
She fears loosing him, though some would say he was already lost when she found him, but others would say he never lost it until he met her.
What was it about her that made her differant from all the other girls? This was daring for her to even ask herself today. Casey disappeared for a week, summer of 2007, leaving her a fret with worry and sorrow. His son’s mother told her not to worry, she’s sure he would be back, that ” …you two are just crazy enough for each other, that I’m sure it’ll all work out.” The girl later learned that he had been at his son’s mothers house that week he disappeared and was sitting there the whole time the girl was on the phone with the mother.
It wasn’t long after that, that he left her again – her fear of losing him was becoming more real by the hour. This time she traveled from thier postcard-picture-perfect home in Kansas City, MO to his brother’s in Wichita, KS
“Where’s my husband?!” she demanded, “Have you seen him? spoke to him? I miss him so bad! I just need to talk to him, please! tell me if you know anything?! What should I do?” and with that she plopped herself up on Cody’s kitchen counter, not budging, waiting for an answer.
Cody’s girlfriend came over, inquired on what was going on and then quickly left to go pick up some fast food so she n Cody could talk. A few short moments later Cody’s phone rang and Casey was on the other line.
“Can I see you? I need to tell you something to your face.” She put it as gingerly and kindly as she could, trying to sound firm and unhurt all at the same time.
“Have you eaten?” he asked, calmly as ever.
“No.”
“Meet me somewhere, we’ll eat and talk.”
“Abuelos?”
“Okay. Abuelos at eight, come alone.” and he hung up.
She idly handed the phone back to Cody. Deflated from worry, yet unthinking about what she knew she had to do. She smoothed her hair, turned her feelings off, and applied lipgloss in the mirror. Thanking Cody over and over, she left for Abuelos, rehersing what she HAD to say when she got there.
He was already inside and seated when she arrived – he rose to greet her-
“Look, I’ve got to tell you something,” she blurted out, both of them still standing.
He caught her off gaurd “You don’t have a tape recorder in there or anything, do ya?” pointing at her purse. She gave him an angry look then dumped the contents of her purse all over the table.
“okay, okay, calm down. pick your shit up, I beleive you.”
She looked up then, already stuffing the contents of her purse hastily back to thier rightful place.
“Look, there’s something I’ve got to tell you-” she began again, holding his gaze and not stopping this time-”If you need to not be with me anymore, thats fine, just tell me to my face so I can believe it, because I can’t do this, you here one day, gone the next. I mean I know we always said if either of us ever had to just up and dissapear one day we understand, but you keep coming back. So I gotta know, just tell me to my face, if you want to end this, it’s okay, just tell me.” She was shaking now, her voice had cracked once but her eyes hadn’t yet betrayed her by crying. For the second time ever his comment surprized her,
“No. Actually, I think we can start again.”
“Really?” she piped, loosing her composure and sounding a bit desperate for a moment. He smiled and nodded.
“Then tell me one last thing,” she shot back at him, hard and strong, “do you even really love me anymore?”
His face drew dark and serious then, his eyes widened and his reply,
“I do love you, Gezwa.”
She wanted to leap or rush and hug huim or just beam and cry or everything all at once, but a waiter approached so she just looked into his eyes and beleived him as they sat. He ordered Steak Medalions, then they both turned and looked at her.
“I’ll have a Dr.Pepper” she stammered, explaining she wasn’t really hungry, though her mouth watered with every bite he took as she hadn’t eaten in the last two days. Later that week he showed her the little house he prepaid six months rent on in the town north of Wichita, near where his son lived. He also told her stories of his recent dissapaerance to Texas. He said with her being just out of jail and treatment and all, she couldn’t really expected to be with him.
The tales made her heart laugh with love and her brain water for drugs, but she could let it go – after all, she was with him again, leaning on his chest in the living room, watching their favorite Soprano’s episodes, drinking wine, and falling asleep in his arms. She smiled at the thought of this now. His youngster, her Casey poppie, safe in each others embrace. That was just about this time last year that they had begun to get back together.
She filled her coffee and lit her sixth ciggarette of the last four hours. Her safe place was still quiet but only for about thirty minutes or so before her friends would start filing in for the eight o clock meeting. She counted the pages she had written since she sat here since four this afternoon – sixteen in four hours – that was about twenty-five times slower than she read. That was okay though, she needed to get it out. She debated calling her sponsor, picking up her tissues, tiding up the place a bit. She has gotton up twice already, mainly to use the bathroom for the pot of coffee she had drank and to start a fresh pot. She was fearful of distracting herself too much from her writing, since it had been July she had put this much ink to paper. Her mom had called earlier, a couple of hours ago, but that hadn’t lasted long as her phone disconnected her mid-sentence. She didn’t feel good anymore either and knew it was from all the nicotine and caffeine swimming inside her stomach. Her neck felt hot and her face flush. Her fingers tingled and she pulled her hoodie off over her head, rolling up her sleves and lifting her hair up for a moment. Her phone rings and the door opens, she will stop for now…
“What will you write about?” her friend asked.
“About a girl.”
why can’t get you out of my mind
I want you to wnat me and you do
but you do not pursue
but if you did i know
i’d run and hide from you
…
that sucked
i dont know what to write, but my mind is full
thinking of starting a short storywe’ll see where that leads…
do i keep picking up this same bullshit just as fas tas i can t5hrow it out
i hate crying
i do not want to miss him
i do not want to have to
i dont care if it sounds selfish
i live with my in laws
and cant even match a shrt to pants some days
i told tonia how stupid i was for that
i remember him telling me i HAD to pick out an outfit
then showing me a better choice
how he picked out exactly what kida of dress i was looking for last october, even though i couldnt explain what i wanted and how i dont even have it anymore
i just want to put my arms around his belly, after he fallen asleep as so not to disturb him, yet be as secretly close to him as possible
i want to see his evil grin and wild eyes and touseled hair and sweating brow
i want to see his doe look as he scoops up his son in big warn arms and
how that let-over love spilled onto my kids
and how james would be so proud just to hold his hand and parade him around the schoolyard
i want to see him helping kyle do something
or bitching at kevan for not
planning a trip to kellys
or feeding codys kids
just to see him walk by somewhere far off in the distance and know it was him
even if we couldnt speak
even if we couldnt touch
just to know he still exsisted…
is that too damn much to ask?!!!!
I hate this fucking shit
and all i dont have
and i know i do have so much but
i dont give a damn
i want whats not here
isnt that always the way it is though?
except once
once i met him
and found i could be his
i was happy
really
deeply
honestly completely
and life was good
there was no limits, boundaires, rules, financial strain, moral conflict, man vs man or man vs god or man vs earth… we just exsisted
and so did love
and it wasnt real-life
but it was reality
and i want it all back
and i really dont think anyone can make that magic like casey did
CCCCCCCCCCCCCCAAAAAAAAAAAAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
my mind has been full and swimming with thoughts that i cannot suppress. I picked up an old book today. one i had started in a former life, tried to get into and just couldn’t but would read anyways. just read, prolonging the daily drinking by a few hours in the afternoon, after getting off work on a Sunday when the kids had long since gone home it seemed and the air was empty. And then I would try n read it drunk too, hoping, then perhaps it would hold my interest a bit better, but it had not. Now though, i cannot put it down. It consumes me and I am at work. but before i picked it up today I had picked up another book, rescued from this former life, in an old garage of an ex’s, holding remains of what i thought might’ve been. A Max Lucado, entitled “Grace for the Moment,” dated for today Sept 24th, but i cannot remember the passage… i will write it here shortly though, but for now i must return to work…
Sept 24th Arms of God
“everyone who lives and believes in me will not die” Jn 11:26 .
..When it is cold on earth, we can take comfort in
knowing that our loved ones are in the warm arms of God.
And when Christ comes, we will hold them, too.
I dont know what it is about my brain lately but it will not let me sleep. I’ve been thinking a lot about Casey, guess it is 29 days the the anniversary, still I dont know. I think i tried to fall in love with a boy because of his voice, though i did not realize until I listened to a voice memo I saved the week he died. I listened to it today… hey, this is Casey, my phones been messin up, so leave your message and i’ll get a hold of you a-sap, thanks- bye thats it, just 15 seconds of live proof that he existed. I thought about how deep he voice is and like nick’s.
i loved talking to him on the phone when he was at work during the day,
lyin my head on his chest to hear stories as i fell to sleep in the early mornings,
pressing my ear to his heart while we smoked on the porch late at night.
and i cry a little
when i think of his freckles
or his belly
or the brand new tatoos he just got
his soft hair….
sometimes i question myself, like so many others did… did i really love him, truthfully?
but then i already know the answer i loved him like an addict loves anything, hard and fast and undeniably. with more emotion and want and need of breath or water or life, unconditionally and without end, even if it kills me, but yet all the while with bulletproof wings of happiness and fantasy fairytale land and protection of the fire-breathing dragon. Overly accepting as if God himself where the object of my heart and the only things my eyes saw in the direct, perefrial, or sub-conscious even.
And if it were me and not he, i would have died just as easily just as willing and just as expectantly, yet ever unwavering from my course in life, or want to…
the answer is yes.
and then i think about whet my PO said today… so what is it you like best I wanted to say casey
and then i think about what my mom said today… so be careful in that house… tonia… so close to kyle… could lead to… problems… careful and i wanted to remind her, casey
and then i think about what my BIL said today… i don’t know when i’ll get up there… and i wanted to call on casey
I almost went to his grave last sunday. I even dug for an hour thru books in an ex’s garage trying to find an old library check-out to dbl-justify my reasoning to travel north to see him, but still i could not. but many people have died in this story i read, and i cried a little, 3 times actually, even at work, and i have set up his chair on kyles back porch for mr to do my afternoon reading in again, but wouldn’t ya know- it rained before i even got a chance to sit in it today. There was a 40% chance- only yesterday, and it was sunny 2 days before and 1 day after so far… but i still read it.
i read like 150 some pages today, and you know what?
i like it now
and i love my husband
and butterfly wings aren’t bulletproof in real life
OMG! whf am i doing these days? i mean i know i know i know i shouldn’t be messin with no boys right now and fuck if he ain’t one! I mean am I really bout 30 yrs old and letting my self trip? and over some trifin a$$ child that’s 22 yrs old? FUCK!
and I mean we did, but he didn’t make it all clear like it was gonna be a casual hit-it-and-get-it-when-ya-miss-it deal, cuz i can deal with all that. I mean thats all I been doin since my old man passed Oct 07. I get that one I can handle it…
I also get the guy thats all sweet on ya and ya move in and a yr later ya’lls married…. i mean lord KNOWS i got that one down pat…lol, not that I’m trying ta play that card right now, either cuz most days i can’t deal with me all day every day and sure as hell ain’t bout to for someone else either… but i understand it….
what i dont understand is how little boys be all up in my ass and then AFTER THE FACT get all sentimental and sweet then act all chill. I mean I can see the play walkin into the situation BEFORE he gets some, but whats with gettin all in my head after the fact and then comin off like mr. rico the next week…
ok so maybe i dont got the bang i used to but fuck! i sure thought this cat packed a punch still, ya know. I mean I have never, EVER been the hit n miss girl… i jus dont play ball like that, ya know… and i don’t give myself daps just cuz I can, either, I mean its the guys that blew my head up, ya’ll so don’t even go there with all the you-so-concieted bs with me folks… srsly! I make sure I put the work in for my man, even if I AM getting right up out yo bed in a few min, its the least I could do for sharin your sweat, ya know…
anyways I mad, he just got demoted, lost his ringtone and am gonna get a ” i’ll have ta get back to ya on that” the next time he calls… two can play, bro… bring yo bat.
[ps-to all my loyal reader i apolgise for the brash cold voice in this...i just had to yell for a minute and when i get mad, my vernacular slips a bit, but perhaps you could still understand?]
something
my dad was the same age as my husband
when they both died… hmmm….
That is all, back to homework
loosen my lips
fear n desire
the swing of your hips
just pull me down hard
n drown me in love
have you heard it? it reminded me of a dryer today. spilled soda like sticky runways of juices yet to be felt inside of me. A rough banging and heated seat of tumble-dry, hi setting. After we smoked and he breathed into my mouth, like a movie from an old basement reel of long-ago… or was that before?
I remember him, getting undressed, across the hall from me, getting his jimmy situated while i hastily removed my clothes, hoping i would get a chance to position my naked body in that common area before he turned around and caught me in some awkward position.
but he did not. and I was poised, and he smiled and came at me in one step that seemed to cross the entire room, wrapping his arm around me, telling me how to move, whispering for me to hold him tight, and moving me to the bed shortly there after…
after two days we stopped for a moment, he looked into my eyes -”tell me something” man his eyes… we spoke of family and fathers and history and grandparents and life before ours we’re grown n grown over with our drinking… but we didnt say that part out loud- and i slept so well… yet cannot bring myself to call him. The 700lb phone, they call it in group, but i do think about him from time to time, not obsessively, not like my DH, not several times a day, but maybe once, maybe every other day…but i think this is more healthy really…
i’d like to see him again, and I can, he told me so.
who am I i read in a blog today, a snake, a sister, a sloth… no none of these
I am the same person always but forever changing
so then if i am fluid can i be tacked down by a label
and if i am not, how do i define self
self, a matter ever fleeting, yet so seemingly sedentary at times
fluid
just moving through space or making a difference
do tossed pebbles in the ocean really become the surf on the other end
or do the rocks just sink, blending amoung all the others
grey-brown rounded edges of normalcy
or maybe they just made the endless depths of the sea, that much closer to standing on
it has been too long, i go and i read others and i think about people like cordie, a sister spirit after my own, or i hers
i think about lives, letting go, fear of it and why… why cant i just rewind… not to change anything, but perhaps to cherish somethings… not that i didnt, but to let them know better
jason, i love you
casey, i miss you
kyle, i know you
hold again
hold again
hold again
till then i’ll be pumping gas n sweepin sidewalks…; at least its honest
Friday, June 13, 2008
 |
fer a minute so i sit here and think and the train goes by and my head hurts and i want and i ned family
|
So we had this exercise in rehab, to write about our fears,
by recognising we have some, we can learn to get by them and move on
i never did this. I’m strong. and everything will be fine.
then I went home.
I had a night that i woke in the middle of the night crying.
my arms were stinging so bad in the elbow-pits, and i couldnt get high
i sat on his lap in the garage and he rocked me and rocked me and just let me cry
and i smoke whilst crying. smoked one cigg after anotherm, non-stop and unknowning
the next day i looked over some writing from my 28 day stint and realized i could write about fear.
so i did… without thinking or looking at what i was writing!.
the other day i found that little folded up piece of legal yellow, don’t know where it came from, how it appeared, but i knew just what it was, so i picked it up and set it on the dresser. I had a long weekend, dealt with everything inappropriately as possible and finally got some goos sleep last night, but before i did, i unfolded that piece of yellow. It said I’m afraid.
I’m afraid of doing something wrong and burning all my bridges at once.
I’m afraid of relapsing and having to let go of loved ones.
I’n afraid my of my husband relapsing and not getting to be with him anymore.
i’m afraid of having to do it all on my own.
there were more, but i couldnt go on, becasuse i guess when you fear the worst,
it happens.
so far i’ve learned, but i dont know if i’ll ever get by them.
that is all
-g
I know what i needed to say
I needed to say something to my brother
and I did
and I was scared
Then I texted him…
Well, First I talked to his brother
my husband
dead in the ground
Then I talked to my brother
Kyle
He said
I prayed to Casey today and then I heard from you. You must work for him.
I could almost see him smile
He still wasn’t positive who I was
I just said
I’m a Groves, thats all you need to know
He thanked me twice
I felt good today
Kyle
my brother
we spoke
I wanted to leave this on my myspace, but alas I cannot access it, so here it is, my fave song for a minute
I wanted you to know
That I love the way you laugh
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain …away
I keep your photograph
And I know it serves me well
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain
cause I’m broken when I’m lonesome
And I don’t feel right when you’re gone away
You’ve gone away
You don’t feel me here….anymore
The worst is over now
And we can breathe again
I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away
There’s so much left to learn
And no one left to fight
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain
cause I’m broken when I’m open
And I don’t feel like I am strong enough
cause I’m broken when I’m lonesome
And I don’t feel right when you’re gone away
cause I’m broken when I’m open
And I don’t feel like I am strong enough
cause I’m broken when I’m lonesome
And I don’t feel right when you’re gone away
cause I’m broken when I’m lonesome
And I don’t feel right when you’re gone away
You’re gone away
You don’t feel me here….anymore
I need to write something
yell something
scream something
but the blank page just mocks me.
I need to say something.
Dirty, wicked, cute, little smile images keep flooding my mind and I cannot stop thinking of him.
Usually I can stop it, but lately
I cannot.
I cannot stop thinking of him.
So I watch TV
but i cannot watch TV
because the radio is yelling something
screaming something
and I just want to say something
but my mind is too busy and I cannot stop thinking of him.
Flashes of him.
smile
flashing.
I need to say something.
hey everybody [or at least cordie]
i am ok… i havent been writing much
its tru
i have been having a bunch of using dreams
but am sober
HOWEVER
my computer is the one thats sick and i ccannot blog from the lib computers
or not supposed to anyway…
i DO have some great notebook pages to add in here, when im back on-lne “for real”
thank you for being concerned
love you al, keep writing
[i am!]
-gez
