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Too old..

 

No wrinkles just sagging skin. Loose strands of black hair shuffle between my thighs why? Because I’m too old. Elbow skin tough, rugged soul like wrangler jeans but with impromptu feelings of unsatisfactory thoughts as I scan my teacher I realize, I ain’t shit my ass is too old. Start over and get your life is a scream of tantrum of my inner Tamar who is holding up a force field shield to protect my heart. My heart, why is it so fragile with feelings and emotions because my ass is old!. My gut is not as strong so I can’t tolerate too much ignorance at one time why? Because my ass is old. 

 

Trying to figure out what the hell Maya Angelou be talking about in her poems was as baffling as to watch a slain gang member funeral on live tv. Praise and acknowledge me now, not when I can’t see you coming because my ass is old. Old is a proxy label of degrading your youth to a uncertainty of confusion and accepting the demise to understand and accept your time is dwindling.  

 

iPad in hand with numb fingertips trying to get your point across to a room of undeveloped ovaries is a procrastination of post it’s googling life but not understanding it. Demonstrating your true self within your herd community protects you until a virus of negativity slowly creeps in and infects us all. I can’t live your world, I can’t wait for you to formulate the confusion that sits in the palm of your hand I am too old and set in my ways. 

 

Waist training spirits with a Herbalife spark is motivation to some but it’s my enemy. Why because I’m old. I’m so old that my cursive writing is reverting to pre school chicken scratch before my fingertips. My oldness have taken over my spirt and is arguing me down that Air Jordan’s at my age is a reach for acceptance within my urban playground. 

 

My youth left me at the age of 21 when I birthed my first son. I knew I was gonna be old like right now. I cried at the sight of my abdomen looking like a balled up trash bag,I screamed when my breast looked beat up, I yelled when my hair was shedding and my teeth was hurting due to this oversized cocoon I just hatched. 

 

Now that’s old ass hell, when you consider your uterus as an cocoon. 

 

Sometimes when I'm lonely I like to go through my old journals.

I have a nasty habit of starting one when they're still one beside my bed only half finished. I like to read the half-completed thoughts and the half articulated ideas. I like the still sleep torn dreams that I haven't gotten around to editing yet.

They read like novels with no conclusion. Sometimes I get the urge to finish them. Sometimes there seems to be no proper way to end them.
I was going through an old Journal that had gotten on my 18th birthday. I had forgotten that my mother used this journal as a guest book at my party. At first it was uplifting reading all these messages that my family had given me years ago and knowing that at least most of them were still in my life.

Then I came across one that I probably should not have read. This message talked about a love that we shared, a friendship like no other. He talks like he was home, like it was comfortable casual. Like his words had no more weight to them then discussing your day at the dinner table.

I, however, took these words to Heart more than words written by politicians are lawyers that have effect on the world. They hit me with more meaning than any decree or speech. And at the bottom almost like an afterthought he wrote "you're my favorite". You're my favorite.

Those words hit me like a sledgehammer to my gut making everything in my body clench as if waited for an attack. He said it as though it meant nothing, it was just a term of endearment. Favorite. Those words hit my skin like acid burning their terrible disgusting design into me.
I Was not his only, I was not his first, I was not his last. I was his favorite.

All the pain that he caused me all the sleepless nights years of self-hatred he gave to me with as much love and tenderness as he was capable. I meant more to him, I was his favorite. The worst by far was the realization that while I'm glad a motherfuker is dead, well I'm glad that I was not there for his last week's and not there to bury his corpse, I still felt the love and tenderness that he honestly meant.

No matter how much pain he caused me no matter how he distorted my view of my own self, I was still glad that he held me in such favor. I felt loved even as I did not love myself anymore. I had a friendship even though I despised him.

I hated myself, but I was his favorite

I have done and said many

things I am ashamed of

 

I struggle everyday with coping

with being alone

 

Rather than go on medication and seek

out therapy like others

 

These past 2 years I began to use alcohol

to cope with some events which devistated me

 

It started with beer in college and eventually

evolved into liquor

 

I don't drink everyday and go many days and weeks

without drinking

 

But when I do drink it is in absolute excess

 

I work in a job that makes it hard to have a normal life

 

Sometimes I work upwards to 18 hours a day

and work in dangerous conditions around dangerous ppl

 

Having to constantly be at work takes it toll on my mind

and so I use alcohol  to help he decompress on my rare days off

 

I don't hate my job,

but hate how it effects my well being and health

 

I hate how it robs me of having a good social life

and having good work/life balance

 

I have had much desire to date,

however I simply don't have much motivation to start from scratch

 

I have a lot of self esteem issues

and so approaching women is very hard for me

 

Everyday is monotonous;

 

It is hard to break out and do 

stuff I enjoy

 

These days because I am tired of my life

 

I would rather just be at work all the time

then face my internal demons

 

Having that distraction keeps the floogates from

opening

 

But when i'm off all my trauma and pain

is easy to feel

 

The lonliness creeps up on me and

is suffocating

 

Having a drink helps me to feel less

alone and more connected

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Slit, slit, cut, cut

Another day called a slut

Cut, cut, slit, slit

All she gets is another hit

 

The abuse doesn't stop

Clear the blood with a mop

Cut again

Hit again

Hit again

Cut again

 

Devastation is all she's ever known

The place she lives, she cannot call home

All she really wants is help

Another cut, another yelp

 

 

 

 

 

Wig split with these fists;

no more bills to pay

because your done talking smack;

i'll see you at your funeral

ya dumb ass. 

 

 

Present

Times past bear no truths but your own,

Times ahead are already gone,

In the moments we exist,

 

Are the moments we've missed.

I started out at aged eleven,

By drinking a bottle of wine,

It made me really nauseous,

That should have been a sign.

 

I then tried a cigarette,

 What type, I had my pick,

It didn't matter what it was,

It made me feel real sick.

 

I drank and smoked for many years,

And sometimes wondered why,

I never knew it’d end in tears,

Now I watch as others cry.

 

I went out to a wedding bash,

My mate said try a spliff

He said it's not a drug it’s hash,

Go on have a whiff.

 

Suddenly I felt at ease,

I really felt quite cooked,

Now he said try one of these,

It really got me hooked.

 

After weeks of trying,

 I had to have more blow,

The thought of not supplying,

I didn’t want to know.

 

Family and friends concerned,

Said this habit must stop now,

Lessons I never learned,

Even when I knew how.

 

Five years on addicted,

To both drugs and alcohol,

With pain I’m now inflicted,

Am I heading for a fall.

 

While lying in my bed,

I hear a thousand voices,

They’re talking in my head,

Telling me I have choices.

 

I told my mate I’m frightened,

He said throw it in the bin,

I’ll get your high heightened,

Let’s smoke some heroin.

 

He said it wouldn't harm,

It's just not as restrictive,

He then turned on the charm,

By claiming it's not addictive.

 

I tried it for a little while,

Then it lost its essence,

It then became rank and file,

This drug had lost its presence.

 

I tried some pills and some coke,

 I liked them all a bit,

None of them really spoke,

I then searched for the ultimate hit.

 

My mate said there’s another type,

I know it'll make you cringe,

Don’t dare listen to the hype,

This is taken by syringe.

 

By this time, I didn't care,

 I told him get me some,

He fully knew it wasn’t fair,

But I was acting dumb.

 

Now I’d kill to get that feeling,

Quite literally in fact,

By begging and by stealing,

From reality I detract.

 

My body's full of sores,

Now my organs are infected,

All because of scores,

From drugs that I injected.

 

The first time that you try it,

 You’ll get the ultimate score,

Thereafter when you buy it,

You won't get any more.

 

I've lost my children and my wife,

My father and my mother,

My home my job my entire life,

Yet still the facts I smother.

 

I've lost my mates to drugs before,

A lot not just a few,

Though it hurts you to the core,

It will never happen to you.

 

Addiction spreads far and wide,

It has a terrible effect,

From reality you cannot hide,

You can’t live in retrospect.

 

I'll never blame another soul,

 I’m guilty of self-abuse,

Yes, it’s me who lost control,

The effects have been profuse.

 

If you're ever offered drugs,

 Do put up a fight,

In reality they are for mugs,

Keep sanity in sight.

 

Regardless of the way I look,

I see my life and cry,

The life that I have undertook,

Means still, I want that high.

 

Next time you look down on me,

This much I know is true,

You may not like what you see,

But, do think, this could be you.

 

Circumstances can bring change,

So, try not to be all seeing,

Though what I’m doing does derange,

 

 

‘’ I’m Still A Human Being ‘’

The threads that hold us tight, begin to slowly unwind.

We knew it wouldn't last but didn't know how long it would take.

The breeze holds me back, signs of peaceful attack.

This window of time holds the glass that never wants to break.

As we float peacefully in the sea of tranquility,

I despise the silence held between you and me.

 

My wings are being ripped apart, I guess that its okay. 

I didn't learn my lesson, I should have ran away. 

I paint a bigger picture just to watch it fall apart,

I should've known to break you like you did to my heart.

That smile on your face tells me you agree,

But you don't see me at all, you stare right through me.

The red in your eyes tell me all I need to know,

You say you're done with everything yet never let go.

Love, In Love, Lust, Fate

 

You think you’ve met your soulmate

Believe it with your whole heart and soul that it is fate

The more time you spend together

The more you convince yourself that THIS is forever

 

Do we know the difference between love, in love, lust and fate?

Most of us, it’s more like an obsession which we realize far too late

In love is butterflies, love is a soul connection which never dies

Fate is destiny, it is what is supposed to be, reality, but some believe otherwise

 

You believe you are in love

The signs are all so clear, how can it not be anything else but sent from above?

Everything seems so clear, you dismiss all fear

Because your love is near, and dear, and will never disappear

 

Do we really know the difference between love, in love, lust and fate?

Why then can Love turn so easily into hate?

Lust into disgust

And fate into something we eventually distrust

 

But the pain, once you realise that you’re the only one in love

The pain, once you realise that it was never sent from above

The pain to learn that your ‘’soulmate’s’’ heart lies with someone else

The pain to awaken to that you are simply not loved.. your heart just crumbles and melts

 

Is it possible for your ‘’believed’’ soulmate to have fallen in love with his stepdaughter while married to her mother?

Is there any possibility that he could be not only obsessed with her, but actually in love with her?

I saw it, I had a vision, it was crystal clear, that his heart and soul was there

Does he know it? Would he ever?  Is he even aware that he loves her beyond just ‘’care’’

 

Do we really know the difference between love, in love, lust and fate?

Confused between caring, love for family and friends, romance love? Can anyone relate?

Confusion between lust, obsession and love

Or once the truth is revealed it’s far too late

 

Are you in love with your stepdaughter?

Is my soulmate, the one I believed I loved obsessed and truly in love with her?

Daydreaming about her, stalker her, admiring her beauty in pictures continually

Am I wrong to wonder? Will I be crucified when I ask for the truth? Will he even know? Not really….

 

Love, In Love, Lust and Fate.. scary thought to realize the truth only too late