The Death Of A Living Corpse

Sharp, twisted, gnarled fingers pointing up from their grave like skeletons

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buried alive. They point from empty sockets glaringly without eye balls, clang and make a hollow. rattling noise. As if they were not here in the cemetery but above from the crumbling yellow ceiling.

They want to attack me, anything of me, worming their way into my brain and every patch of skin. This is how you make me feel, you get to me like no one else. You always had that capacity you just covered it up with charm. But not from me, fire ants slip under my skin, itching, burning, scattering.

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The throngs of white rodents biting wire, wood, any material to get free, gnawing every which way to go even deeper under the once soft layers of my skin.

All of a sudden you have turned on me, licking your lips. I am the one who is hateful, crazy, contradictory? You are telling ME that? My fingers and toes are burning with fire, a fire that has gotten out of hand. It has spread to every limb, every DNA molecule.

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I see from afar my hair is in red-orange flames. No, I didn’t put myself on fire playing with matches, this is arson; a talent you have always had without a shadow of a doubt. You play with fire often, I used to blow out the evidence for you but not anymore.Never again.

I am no longer the one who will protect you when you are lit up like a Christmas tree,

lights wrapped around your head. At those times you were so kind to me, warm, streaking through the streets, waiting for your get-away car. But, only then.

I will not help you anymore,  I took care of you all my life, I had no teenage years, went straight from childhood to adulthood without even a whisper of gratitude, just attitude.

Leave me alone now. Don’t talk to me in your premeditated voice that has struck other people  before. Of course I am not innocent either, but mine is not planned like yours, wrong yes, but not premeditated. You are a poisonous snake that has struck again; one of your dear friends spent years in therapy because of you. I was loyal to you, defended you.You tossed her out of your life like she was the rotting garbage in the smelly city streets that had not just collected after a long brutal summer weekend.

You don’t think about anyone’s feelings, you blurt things out because the only feelings that matter to you are your own. Let others clean up your messes.You have no filter, no filter, no filter.

I will be polite, in front of others but I will not allow you to talk like that to me again. .You have gone too far. For years I have wanted to get you out of my life, why live with such abuse and negativity and drama? But, you, persevered and I let you. Stupid me, I wanted peace.

You may be charming to others, outsiders. but you are not loveable. You have no interest in old friends? What are you hiding? People have asked me what was behind that and I gave no explanation but it is odd. Sectioning off people like little girls with their sweet smiling sections of hair.

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This fire cannot be put out, you went too far. I will hurt nobody on purpose but again, that was on your agenda, not mine. I don’t care why, I care that I no longer stay in this imitation of a relationship with you.

Of course, I can play the game too, but not for you. Never for you. For the only person that matters.  I gave and gave to you and what did I get back? Nothing, nothing that wasn’t engineered for you. You were never my friend, but I never expected that. Friendships share trust.

I have nothing else to give you, you have built yourself a trap, it’s only time that will keep you from drowning in it. I will no longer rescue you from it.  It’s only a matter of time, I’m the keeper of secrets. I won’t say a single word.

Singing background vocals, every single time? But, then again, I expected nothing more. You were always mean-spirited, a dark shadow, why would I ever think you would be fair?

 

An Open Letter To Ellen Degeneres

English: Ellen DeGeneres in 2009. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Dear Ellen, I hope you don’t mind me addressing this to you, I just need someone to listen, someone who cares about other people. I thought you were the right person even though I’m sure you will NEVER see it. That’s okay. With the exception of a few best friends I’ve learned the hard way that other people are too busy in their own lives to care.

I DON’T WANT ANYTHING FROM YOU.

I guess I’m trying to think and talk out loud here. I’m lost, and have no idea what happened to me, I have no idea who I am either though I used to know so clearly.

Have I just become a mountain of symptoms trying to blend themselves together in a jig saw puzzle where no piece fits? I’ve made changes, I stay away from negative people, I try to be as kind as possible and pay it forward when I can but still trouble follows me like a black cloud.

Believe me, I am NOT asking for pity. I don’t want anyone’s pity, if I want pity I give it to myself, underneath my three layers of blankets, with the door shut tight, my dog lying next to me on my bed. I don’t want pep talks either, encouraging me that it “is just a phase.” This phase is my life and I have accepted it, I just don’t understand it.  When I try to fight against the “down” period, people tell me not to do that and to be positive. Everything is a mixed message.

You have the natural talent to bring joy to others just by being yourself, I love that.

Right now, I am a huge collection of symptoms that I don’t mind sharing, I’m 57, there are people who are 97 that are healthier than I am. From head to toe: narrow angled glaucoma (eyes) many, MANY painful treatments in my eyes to try to correct that, but its a life long condition, hearing loss (had stapedectomy-operation for ears) the dreaded Eppiglottitis, I don’t wish on my worst enemy, I shiver at the thought, (open, gaping wounds below the throat,) horrific TMJ, shooting pains from my jaw/ear to my brain causing me to scream with agony caused by any random thing and some other facial myalgia the doctors threw at me) which I don’t even count. I have IBS, Fibromyalgia, Fatigue, No energy, Chronic muscle and joint pain, Fibro Fog (not remembering something someone said a minute ago.) General Anxiety Disorder, Hashimoto’s Thyroiditis (an auto immune disease of the thyroid) foot pain, wait, the most recent one and most deadly,  Kidney Failure, Stage 3? (No one ever told me about Stage one or two) I think I’ll stop here.

Now for the social things, I can’t work because of the above illnesses, my husband was laid off for the second time and still is not working. We have two fabulous children who are attending two different state universities and a dog (our second) I rescued from a shelter.

I want you to know that we ARE thankful for our blessings, we truly are. Writing this down makes me realize that even more.Thank you for listening, sometimes it is good to write it down and look at it on paper.

But, am I jinxed? Is this what they call “going through a rough patch?” Whenever I feel I’ve reached bottom something else happens. Do you only know where the bottom is when you finally start climbing up slowly? Isn’t it possible to stay down here forever?

I guess I just have to accept what is going on now, breathe slowly in and out and believe that something good will happen. Someday.

Please don’t “like” this post. I don’t.

Yellow Magic Madness #48

Happy Day for Bugs on Yellow flower! (Photo credit: Rosa Blue)

With a foot of snow tumbling down

from the white skies and no

colors around except white and gray,

I need to see color

somewhere to make me feel alive.

This photograph was taken by my friend,

Rosa Blue,

who takes magnificent photographs,

all filled with good spirit light.

When I picked this photo

I had no idea it was taken by my friend.

That’s happiness !

Enjoy this snap of happiness

and try not to count how many more

days till Spring.

Take things day by day.

Please stay safe and warm.

ramblings from a very tired person

“I Am Tired” – NARA – 558861 (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

so tired I think my eyes are asleep, they are certainly half closed while i am typing this so forgive the e.e. cummings style, a wonderful poet.i feel like there are pieces of chalk in my eyes, the ones i used to use when I was a kid, outside on the street; thick pieces of multi-colored chalk sticks, pink, yellow, blue, white.  they always got on our hands and clothes but they were great for hopscotch games and messages to the world. hearts and balloons and your best friends names. when i was little we had a tight group of friends, 4 of us that played together every day; our moms were great friends too. we played in an alley and our moms sat together on a little wall, talking, smoking cigarettes back then. in the summertime, we would run like crazy when we heard frankie and the Good Humor truck coming around the corner, his familiar voice shouting “Hola Amigo.” our very first Spanish words.we were so proud.

out of the 4 of us, I am still friendly with all of them since we are all in our fifties and have known each other since we were born. our lives live in each others memories, moments that one of us remember, we fill in each others blank stairs; we’re all very different. one guy is not much of a communicator, he sends a joke or two on line once in a while and every ten years we see each other on his big birthdays in July which is fun. the next one will be 6o ,wow that sounds so ancient  yet it’s a mere jump. skip and dive into those frozen waters for me. I can’t just yet roll it around my brain or head and certainly not my tongue.not yet.

i could never understand people reading the obituary pages, what’s the point? my 85 year old mother started reading them with one of her friends a few months ago and now she does it every day. i looked at it once and the one time I looked i found our realtor dead, at a young age. or the age they said. she used to tell me about all the cosmetic surgery she would always have; there was no cause of death listed. I was shocked and saddened to see her familiar face on the page.you just don’t expect to know anyone when u glance at the page. i stopped reading after that one.

that’s what tonight has been like, looking at old photographs, too tired to get out of bed to pee, too lazy to go down to the kitchen and snack because i don’t want to change my feeling of warmth and safety from this 60 degree bonus day. we deserved this day, after super-s0aker  Sandy and the snowstorm that followed. this tiny neighborhood has outtages every single year, except for this one, we were so very grateful.

thanks for giving us a break this year. we sorely needed it and was much appreciated. i need to save this and then save draft. and then, right away before you say anything else, i will be dropping my head on my cool pillow and try to go to sleep. peaceful sleep. good night.

Carry on Tuesday: Who has seen the wind? Neither I or you

Autumn Leaves (Photo credit: oddsock)

I am only one of the dappled leaves moving in the air as we  quietly dance on pointe in a ballet or more likely swirling around like modern dancers with beautifully colored scarves. We live together in our community of family and friends: red and orange, green, yellow, brown, all leaves together intermingling in the air waving to each other all the time. Next time we are out in full, watch our tips, like little fingers, we are always trying to touch each other, tickle each other and make each other laugh, we love this game. In answer to your question, yes, we travel together as a family.

Against the velvet blue skies people look up and stare at us, we look back down at them and see wide eyes of all colors: brown, blue, black, like little buttons. Under stormy thunderous clouds,  people look down and scuff their feet on us and mutter angry words; those aren’t our best days either.

When it is Autumn we seem to be most popular with people in their cars actually following us as we dance and play and flirt and cache. Our colors burn us with brightness, it’s a lovely feeling really, we become alive, we explode in our own skins. We blaze the sky with our lush, vibrant colors. We are our own theater, as we swirl and pirouette in the sky. Some people talk of “the wind” that makes us dance but we don’t know what wind is. I ask my friends do they know what the word “wind” means? Have they seen the “wind?” I haven’t. They don’t know what it is either so we just laugh it off and dance some more. We don’t spend much time with word games or any games except the one where we try to tickle each other. We live a simple, sweet life. We do love the attention and to hear the gasping sounds you make on the ground as you marvel at our colors and our performances.

We are a family of leaves, we care about each others happiness, we guard each others safety, we protect one another. We hide in the winter, we need to regroup after our fall showing, the performances we put on for you, we put all our intense energy into that. We love to do this for you for a little while but then we need to rest. We fade, we’re tired, we start to dry up. We hate not looking our best, we are all vain, it’s quite true.

We see each other when the festivities are over, when we people collect us all together before winter comes. We are swept away in piles with hands or rakes or with loud machines. We love it when children jump in us, just to hear their laughter makes us happy. Soon, we need to settle down to sleep, in the quiet corners of the earth, where we cuddle up with one another and lie close together smelling the musky scent of the earth.

Before the snow blankets us with white lace, we put our arms around each other and rock gently. Yes, it will be our time together very soon but not yet. We need to sleep, we need to rest as everyone does at some time. We huddle closer and closer and remind ourselves that without this icy blast, this cold frost we would not know any difference in our worlds. We only appreciate warmth and the sun because we have felt the bitter cold blast and have seen total darkness.

Haiku Heights – Home

English: Love heart (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In my sleep, afraid

my foot searches for his leg

I sigh with relief.

******************************************************

A short visit home

Daughter pops out of her car

Running for a hug

**********************************************************

Her tail wags with joy

dog dashes and jumps on me

rust- colored, grinning.

**************************************************************************

My heart is a pool

for those that I love dearly

Keep each other warm.

**************************************************************************

 

Plinky: Who Was Your Favorite Teacher?

• Best Teacher
• Apple For The Teacher
  Timken Roller Bearing Co., calendar, September 1950, teacher at desk Her name was Mrs. Diner and she was a teacher in Kew Gardens, Queens at PS 99. She was my sixth grade teacher and I remember her kindness and her warmth. I remember how she looked based on a very old photograph of us that someone took. I don’t think she did anything extraordinary but being a teacher was important to her; she made her students FEEL important and loved. Mrs. Diner was a teacher to remember, she inspired us all. Thank you, Mrs. Diner.
  P.S. 30 years later my mom met her on an airplane and Mrs. Diner remembered me. I was absolutely thrilled!