Poem: Time, The Girl, and Sorrow

I have me no parents;
to help keep me fed.
I have me no friends;
to wipe tears from my head.
I have me no lover;
with whom to console.
I just have this room
and my government dole.

I'll never be equal,
to you or your friends.
Your life will not change,
never seeing me again.
You think that you know now,
but time proves you wrong.
For when you are dead,
you were alone all along.

I tried to unite,
our two hearts
into one.
But your heart
was divided,
my battle
not won.

While you were my highest,
my reason to be.
You found me wanting,
and left by the sea.

Your friends were much better,
to you and your life.
Your ex-loves the reason,
you wont be my wife.
While I have all nothing
and you were my all;
You had life already,
at your beck and call.

My soul
in your market
was not worth a dime...

I hope you will learn more,
I've nothing,
but time.

Poem: Bad Transformations

An Intimate Lover turns into
a strange, unknown, Monster!

How could this be happening?!
So fast!
Where is the human Lover I knew?

This, this, this...
Doppelganger,
who took Their place!
Hearing not a word I say!
Seeming to care for me not at all,
knowing nothing of my feelings towards e-mails,
contradicting themselves with each paragraph.
Great, lieing, Haughty, Hypocrite:
Demanding response,
while no response will do.

No matter what I say,
it is taken by Them for Evil,
only fueling Their Unrighteous Fire,
their weird Demon's thirst.

They will not rest
until We (My Lover & I) are destroyed completely.
Until all chances of friendship between us,
and all contact,
of any kind,
is gone.
Made Impossible.
Our Time Over.

I list my boundaries;
the Monster,
my Lover's Doppelganger,
immediately crosses them all,
taunting me with sadistic glee.
"Now what?" They sneer.

Knowing how fragile I am ,
knowing how sensitive to
my lovers written words;
This Being I used to Love,
hurts me on Purpose.

Hurts me, hurts me,
and hurts me again.
Deliberately,
with Malice aforethought.
Self-Pity may be pathetic,
I am not such a Fool
as to not see that in me.
But so too is being a doormat.
Even a doormat for
a Beautiful young person.

Aiming Their verbal bullets
at my weakest parts,
(weak points they learned of naked,
in Love, in Trust, in bed, with Me).

Their justifications,
for my heart's Assassination,
are nearly infinite:
Blaming me for the bulk of it,
nothing left for me to say.

Sometimes -Silence -
is the only reply.

Every response I give them,
bent into an excuse to attack me.
interpreting my answers
as invitations to continue
their never-ending harangue;
Of Me,
all my limitless faults,
all my limitless cruelties.

In one sentence from Them I read they
"...have never loved any one more than (Me)..."

In another They submit reasonably that they
"...cannot ever bare to see You (Me) in person again..."

Then a few pages latter does a few
mental flips in the air again and asks if I
"...would you like to meet up Saturday..."

To pages and pages
of similar,
self-contradictory,
deeply heartfelt,
confusion and lies.

And sometimes,
just plain insanity.

It seems to me that my
Lover-Friend-Stalker,
(hopefully temporarily)
has lost contact with
An Objective Reality.
Governs by Moods,
rather than Morals.

One cannot negotiate with a Madman,
the language barrier is insurmountable.

I had never guessed the depth of
Anger toward Me,
Need for Control,
Power Hunger,
Expectation,
and just plain
Spoiled Brat Selfishness
which resides near the center
of my X-Lovers being.
(Of course these faults are also mine;
that's the reason I can see
the method to this madness).

Remembering back They were very quiet,
through much of our time together.
I never had reason to believe that inside my
Gift from The Goddess
there would be a volcano.
Waiting for a victim,
to make it erupt.

I had finally gotten the
Peace of Mind
to stop reading
Their sad, poisoned, words.
It took a complete Panic Attack,
boarding nervous breakdown,
at just the sight
of another mean letter from Them.
But it worked.

I hate giving up.

Yet it's something I've had to learn to do,
to succeed, to survive;
As gracefully as possible.

Maybe one day
They will be Sane again...
We can meet and hug,
go out,
have coffee,
fall in Love again,
whatever.
I hope so.
I wish so.
I Pray so every day.

Saddest,
most evident,
there is nothing to be said
between us
now.

This part is Over.

Poem: Thanksgiving '09

It gets lonely down here sometimes.
When all your lovers want someone else,
or want you to be someone else.
When all your friends are too busy for you.
When you have no family,
and you never have,
but it's the season of families;
It's easy to feel left-out.

I never predicted,
how easy it is,
to be alone.
Never knew
how fast
it could come.

Complete and total.
Utter and infinite.

The World lives around me,
while for me time has stopped,
at the zero mark.

If you have a family,
give thanks.
If you have friends,
give thanks.
If you are not alone,
give thanks.

As for me,
I'll continue to write.

Poem: A Sorry Sorrow

I'm sorry baby, I really am.
I see you hurting, pouting.
My chest aches with yours.

Your decisions brought us here.
My decisions brought us here.
It does not matter,
it is here,
as shown by
the tears
on your face.

Acting my cool,
I try to console you,
just silence,
the only result.

Somewhere inside
I want to scream at you,
shriek that you ruined our home.
Part of me cat-calling:
"Spoiled Brat,
why were you so greedy?
You had me!
We had us!
Why did you need him?!"

My Fury has no answer.
My Rage, no dignified comment.
Just smile sadly,
shaking my head,
say,
"Darling what brought us to this?"
Touching your head and hand
is paradise...
now closed to me
by your commitment
to damnation.

I love you.
I always will.
I will not be destroyed with you,
nor help you drown in flames.
All honesty,
I do my best,
Act Rightly
toward one
and for all.

Poem: Tomorrow (#3?)

I'm finally feeling well,
and it's time to go to sleep.

The long battle of my day is over.
All day I've been
hungry, anxious, scared,
in pain, nervous, rushed,
bored, frustrated, and more.

When I've finally come down,
to where I have wanted to be;
calm, fed, happy, at peace:
It's time to go to bed.

After all my fighting,
I've finally won,
only to sleep,
starting over again,
tomorrow.

Poem: Bow and Repeat

My mother chose my father,
over me.
Over and over
and over again.
As a child.
He would beat me
and I would beg her
to leave him.
But she wouldn't.
He'd scream at her
and beat her
and I'd beg her to leave him.
But she wouldn't.
Or she couldn't.

Later in life she remarried.
My stepfather would beat me;
stealing all my inheritance
from my mother.
I asked her to leave him,
or at least protect my inheritance.
She wouldn't.
Or she couldn't.

Later still I was dating
a woman I loved.
Who was addicted to
an abusive former lover.
He said mean things to her,
and once she left me,
for him.
Telling me she didn't
care for me
anymore.

Finally back together,
I asked her to leave him for me.
Let his friendship go,
and live in our love.
She wouldn't.
Or she couldn't.

Like my mother before her,
the abuse is more important than,
my love.

Poem: One Year

One year ago exactly.
Homeless.
The same cold bite in the air,
same anxiety about upcoming Holidays.
The wildest,
most unlikely,
wish I dreamed at the time,
my greatest prayer:
That one day I would have
a place of my own.
Coffee in the Morning.
A radio.
That;s all I wanted,
those three things,
more than anything else.
I didn't think It'd ever happen.
Picturing it perfectly in my mind,
every day,
regardless of my surroundings.

Now its here.
I have my own place,
my coffee, my radio.
A few more things
I hadn't dreamed of...
My gratitude is overflowing,
let there be no doubt.
Hugging my floor, kissing my bed.
Yes I love parts of life, now.
Sunlight streams through my windows,
the sign taped to my door reads,
"Go Away! This means YOU."

I never pictured the
constant pain in my stomach.
Never pictured my desire to
never leave my bed,
cowering under the covers
with NPR on the Radio
for the rest of my life.
Never pictured walls
sometimes driving me mad,
forcing me out the door,
if for nothing but to get away.
Only to return gratefully later.

All these and more
Afflictions Unpredictable.
What dreams do I have left now?
What pictures will I imagine?
What future will I create
for myself,
one year from now?