Monday, February 19, 2024

Shades of discernment

One day, 
you realize
that some problems 
are not correctable.

When engaging with
or-taking part in-
   the topic
   the issue
   the interest
always results in
   chaos
   hard feelings
   hurt
   resentments
   misunderstandings
and oh-so-many
endings endings endings….

No matter what your
   intentions
   hopes
   past ‘work’ to correct
   CBT
   or whatever the psych flavor
      of the day is,
the result is always the same….

There isn’t enough
   counseling
   recovery
   medication
   treatment
   time
   substances
   do-overs
to become
   …to evolve
   ……to change
who you think you are
or
who others think you 
ought to be….

Well,
then it's time
to try something different
instead of staying in
the insanity.

And so,
the result:
these problems
become another
form of 
   abstinence
   sobriety
   clean time
to be endured
and then
embraced
and even
celebrated.

Because peace
is always worth the choice.

And you can’t always fix
everything.

Tuesday, February 6, 2024

The sin of envy

Lots of new revelations lately

coming out of 

mindfulness practice,

like the one about 

the motivations of 

a quiet bully.

They always liked to needle me

about the unorthodox way

I chose my degree focus.

Goddess, I would have never 

told them that story

if I’d known they would 

slyly poke me

about it for the

next thirty-five years!

and why?

I will tell you why:

jealousy.

I EARNED two degrees

that have served me well

over those thirty-five years.

Employers are always in the market

for research and communication skills,

not to mention

an open and curious mind.

That old A.S. wasn’t enough for them?

Why couldn’t they simply be

pleased instead of

subtly critical?

They made THEIR life choices -

I made MINE.

I’m proud to have used 

my hard-won education

and my brain

thoroughly.

Saturday, February 3, 2024

Good fences

It’s getting easier
   to hide those
      names and numbers
      posts and pictures

easier to observe
   silently
   the textual communications
   and
   to not trigger
   myself
   by responding 
   only to be
   ignored

easier to enjoy
   the quiet contentment of
   not having my mental stability
   regularly upended by
   the careless and
   possibly 
   not so casual
   caustic comment
   burning the new skin
   of my scabbed over and 
   healing self esteem.

easier to do 
   long-neglected 
   and even forgotten
   projects
   dreams
   self-care

easier to finally
   make new friends
   leave the house
   adult with panache
   work like a poised pro
   calmly contemplate 
      future possibilities.

It is
good.



Sunday, January 28, 2024

Identity

who am I?

what is the memory that defines me?

everything about my life is about

healing that little girl

stop running

but does she need healed?

she who survived that childhood?

she was tough

and determined…

we hug each other

excited about who 

I have become.

who really needed the help,

the healing?

me, 

me, that’s who.

the sixty year old.

that’s who.

why am I holding her back

and out

saying she needs healing?

I let that little girl in

to experience the joy of

who we are now.

and we go out

to share the story of

who we are

with others

to help others.


Friday, January 26, 2024

Praying on street corners

When I was growing up
I heard in church
all the time
various Bible verses
and priestly opinions
about not praying in public,
being directed to 
pray more privately 
to have a genuine relationship 
with God.

I always understood this
to mean that making sure that
everybody knew about my prayer 
or spiritual life or related activities
was showing off 
or attention seeking.

It certainly was NOT devotion.

It was certainly prideful.

It puzzles me to this day
why the people that I was 
raised with and by
feel it necessary to 
constantly talk about 
what they are doing to 
serve and worship God.

I think the only one 
that needs to know 
that information 
is God, if indeed 
one is doing it 
all for
God.

Everything else
is showing off.

How about those Catholics?
Who can out-Catholic the other Catholics?
I swear, some of my siblings
are constantly running for 
the title of 
“Catholic of the year.”

It’s nauseating and disingenuous,
not to mention damaging 
and insensitive
to those around them.

Especially for those 
striving to
find their own path and 
their own faith.

Once again,
some righteous asshole is 
telling them that
they’re wrong (the seekers)
and that their way (the street corner pray-ers)
is the only way.

I wonder if God is pleased
by this eternally running pageant 
or if He is as bemused 
as I am
by the fierceness
and pointlessness
of their contest.

Tuesday, January 23, 2024

Ms. (S.) Regrets…

“I’m calling to 

remind you about…

(insert the family gathering of your choice here).

Do you want to RSVP and pay your deposit?”


“Why, no. 

I regret that

I am no longer 

able to manage

the cost of

this sort of event.”


“Oh, come now. 

Surely it’s not that expensive. 

Perhaps you could split it 

into the two payments?”


“I can hear that you 

misunderstand me -

as you always have.

I was not speaking of 

money

in terms of affording.

I was referring to the 

mental, 

emotional,

and 

spiritual toll that

hanging around 

any of 

you people

takes on me

every

fucking

time.

THAT is what 

I cannot spare 

the price of.”



(silence)



(click)

Thursday, January 11, 2024

The Unforgivable Curse: a true fairytale

The streams from their wands met
in a spectacular explosion of 
light and emotion.

The Dark layered a crucius curse onto 
the imperius one she had already cast
on the Light
so many years ago.

Was that curse was a prophecy? No.
But it was a curse, 
a centuries-old darkness
passed on to the inevitable
Light
in each generation.

The Dark didn’t care that 
both curses were unforgivable;
she had labored under them
herself until shoving one onto 
her first born.

Now doubly so,
she was convinced she was justified.
Disobedience and independence 
simply could not be tolerated
from the Light.

The Light didn’t know 
about the imperius -
she never had.
She had always thought
and was always taught that 
her crazy behavior
was because she WAS crazy

…because she was wrong
…because she was defective
…because she was evil.

But…the Light wasn’t any of those things.

She was being impelled
and harmed by 
the first unforgivable curse, 
that forced her to act out, 
out of pain,

But…Light did know
a crucius was coming 
by the look on Dark’s face,
that malicious cunning determination
to win, to best the Light
at any cost.

Yes, Light had seen 
and suffered 
from that one before.

Light gathered her skill 
and power 
but could not break
the Dark’s wand stream

She didn’t want to hurt anyone.
She just wanted to protect herself
and make the pain stop 
forever.

Life had already 
hurt enough
without putting up with 
Dark’s shit
anymore 

In fear and anger,
Light redirected 
her protective crucius curse 
towards Dark’s partner,
who passively watched the battle.

To her astonishment,
he went down with 
a yelp of surprise, 
never expecting to be
attacked directly.

His mate usually protected
…er…
controlled him 
so well.

Dark broke off her attack 
on Light at 
the pain and betrayal
in her mate’s voice.
She hadn’t anticipated 
Light’s choice either.

When the wand streams dropped,
Light ran. 
And and ran and ran and ran
as 
her mother tended 
her father.

She didn’t look back.
She had foiled the curse.
And that was 
all that mattered
at that moment.

Silence unfurled 
as a dark and corrosive
Banishment
separated the Light
from those she loved
for many years.

Any effort by the Light
to approach the Dark 
(and her mate)
to make amends was
viciously rebuffed.

The Light knew 
she hadn’t got away with 
anything.

But she was willing 
to take the peace 
and the cessation of 
harassment by 
the Dark.

Eventually, 
the Dark
passed on.

Her mate lived on, 
seeming more peaceful 
without his darker, 
dangerous, 
damaged half.

The Light became 
hopeful
that old hurts might 
mend;
it even felt like 
they had.

Until one day, 
thirteen years later
Dark’s widowed mate
made it known

     nothing had changed
     nothing had healed
     nothing was forgiven.

Light’s Banishment was 
still soooo in effect;
there was nothing 
the Light could 
ever ever
do about it
ever.

At that moment
both curses 
- the ancient imperious 
and the relatively newer crucius -
suddenly became visible to 
the Light, 
she studied
the old spell,
the words of abandonment.

The dark chains of both curses 
suddenly gripped the Light, 
more painfully
than they ever had.

The Light finally could see 
clearly
that the Dark was still 
in control of 
her mate and their family

     even after death
     even after decades
     even after seemingly acting like 

all was well now that 
Dark was out of the picture.
 
What a fucked up sort of
immortality THAT is. 

For a few hours 
afterwards,
Light writhed under
those tandem curses,
despairing of ever
being free of 
the legacy of pain of
generations.

She did not fight it. 
She sagged
in anguish 
over her life
the agony of not
being enough or 
worthy of love.

Finally …the Light arose.
She cast it all off, easily.

She finally remembered:

     those curses had only existed in her head
     because they made her believe
     they existed
     that the curses WERE her identity.,

The Light realized anew
that she was 
no worse off
than when the wand streams 
had dropped
twenty years before
and that, in fact, 
she was even freer
because the truth was
the forgiveness she had sought from
the Dark 
still had a higher price
than she ever wanted to pay 
ever again.

The price was 

     her hard-won sanity
     her independence
     her precious sobriety 
     the peace experienced

since the day
the wand streams broke.

The Light understood
at last 
the only forgiveness 
she needed or
wanted 
was from herself. 

So she forgave herself
for the curse cast on 
the Dark’s mate
because she finally knew that 
the Dark’s curses on the Light
ultimately caused the choice.

It wasn’t Light’s fault.
It never was.
She still wasn’t 

     bad or worthless
     defective or evil
     broken or unworthy.

The Light was 
blessedly whole
free from the curses
all of them
at last.

She laughed. 
Free.
Free at last.

Saturday, January 6, 2024

I hate Christmas

I always have.

When I was a kid, it was a time of disappointments.
My parents did their best…
They were poor but
I was a kid.

I was neither old enough nor evolved enough
to not be disappointed and angry
when my friends were given 
all the really cool stuff
like the Barbie Dreamhouse and Simon Says and 
clothing no one else had ever 
worn before.

And I got…socks and oranges 
and a silver dollar in the old stocking.
And way too many sappy old Christmas cartoons
all while pulling taffy and decorating gingerbread houses
with candy we kids were not allowed to eat and
way too much fucking fairy tale church activity and 
the annual “new” pair of jeans that looked
suspiciously like the ones 
I saw at the church rummage sale 
right before Thanksgiving.

Those jeans, as always, turned out to be
ugly and too big for my still narrow hips 
and too short for my newly sprouting frame and they always
always 
carefully left miles of ankle exposed
for my peers to shriek at with glee for
the remainder of the school year.

Every fucking year.

Christmas before adulthood was also
traumatized by 
sporadic visits to 
the maternal grandparents in Arizona.
Not only did we ALWAYS drive through
 the worst fucking storm in the world, 
every damn year, 
48 hours before Christmas,
to get there, through South Pass, 
and every other damn pass, it seemed, 
in the Rocky Mountains, 
my parents had to drive straight through 
from wherever we were 
currently living in Wyoming
with no stops or overnights 
in the middle of this annual nightmare
with all six of their kids cowering and shivering 
in the back of the truck, 
allegedly protected by an 
unheated camper shell, 
with blankets and lawn chairs and luggage,
(can you say “safe”, y’all?)
scared out of our collective mind by the
swerving, sliding vehicle 
while my mom shrieked at my dad to 
WATCH FOR the 
rarely-visible-through-the-blowing-snow-painted line 
at the side of the road, 
as some other maniac drove down the 
wrong side of the road past them
on the other side of this apocryphal line
with their equally fucking scared 
kids in their car.

(By the way, the aforementioned maniac
was driving in the barrow pit….
Catching that fear yet?)

But that drive wasn’t the biggest 
trauma drama of the 
semi-annual nightmare trip.

Once we got to the grandparents’ trailer court,
there was 
the molester.
My mother’s father.
Another now unclaimed relative of mine.

He was very busy being a grandfather, 
keeping us kids in an uproar by 
“cuddling” us at any unguarded moment,
taking us to the store for candy, 
taking forced naps with one at a time,
and
hanging out with us six girls 
of various ages and physical development 
in the court swimming pool, 
such a treat! for kids who 
just came there
from subzero Wyoming!
And other allegedly safe and grandfatherly
sorts of activities, 
which were really just a cover for 
his fingers being in and on and over 
every part of our bodies
while mom and dad drank beer 
with grandma, the enabling bitch,
relieved to have a few minutes 
of peace from their kids.

Never knowing (or acknowledging, 
when they did come to know) 
those minutes had been obtained at 
a high price, were exchanged for a 
lifetime of trauma for at least 
one of those kids
they wanted relief from.

As an alleged adult
Christmas has continued its shitty record
of sad times and anniversaries
break ups and interventions
abandonment and financial devastation
deaths and births and abuses.

I’m too damn tired to tell you 
all about those right now but…

This year was no different. 

For fuck’s sake, why can’t it be?

I’m gonna quit celebrating
or observing or 
whatever the hell you call it.

It’s got to become just another day
in order to take the pain out of it
permanently.

And… I need to stay away from those people.
You know. 
The surviving members of 
those Christmas trauma trips.

They sure aren’t doing me any favors, 
60 years later.

Tuesday, January 2, 2024

Blood money

Those progenitors.

Still up to their old tricks,
trying to control what is
not theirs to control.

Laughing. 

I just realized, 
just how free I am!!

Free from what?

Well, for one…
I am free from 
being chained to the
dirty dollars of
an inheritance.

I am free from lying
about the past and
about my upline’s
abusive and narcissistic
behaviors.

(Being passive is pretty horrific too
in the right context.
Not acting still makes you 
just as responsible, dude.)

I am free from pretending to 
believe in and worship the 
religion fairytale.

I am free from having to 
sacrifice my recovery to 
enhance my bank account and assets.

I am free to continue to keep
my side of the street clean,
no matter what the rest
of them are doing.

I am free from pretending
that the people I am related
to by blood are family
in any way at all.

(They’re not. 
And now I really know it. 
Thank God.)

I think I like being
an orphan 
and
an only child.

It is so freeing
to be finally 
completely
done 
with them.

Believe me.
What a relief.



Sunday, September 17, 2023

almost autumnal equinox

The sunlight
from the sunset
reflects off the 
white floor tile

yet another portal
to the past
the recall
of other, similar moments

The reflection
brings a strong cascade of
memories
of other scattered 
early fall evenings

That light is 
always was
infused
in all times
with love
joy
contentment
of the many times
when happiness briefly peered
out of the 
shit of childhood
or adult miasma.

A small child
wondering at the light
touching her skin
still warm
even after a bounce off 
the cool floor

A teenager
on a Sunday evening
cautiously reflecting on
Monday school
the boy she hopelessly liked
it sure was hopeless

     (what I wouldn’t give 
       to feel that now
       even the hopelessness
       would be welcome because 
       even then, 
       even that emotion was
       so full of life
       and the possibility of
       hope, anyway….)

As a young woman
almost recovered from 
the weekend’s festivities
but relishing her youth and freedom
while loathing the hangover
and the losers
as the evening glow 
reminded and healed.

Then
now 
the autumn years
mingled with autumn days….

Here’s that light again
softly sweetly glowing 
on past and present
the magic still happening
but almost unexplainable

Now yet seeing others,
already gone
peering back
part of the light
their own light blending
bending
quietly
patiently.

Thursday, September 7, 2023

The passing away

One of my old tormentors
died recently.

Spotting his obituary
gave me a few moments of 
satisfaction
followed by
the old grief and rage.

He never did acknowledge
the wrong he did to me and others
which, of course
meant that he never made amends
or tried to heal
the hurts.

An interesting choice
for someone who was
allegedly 
a healer.

But I will pray for him
but only to continue 
to release myself
from that old pain
and from the incredibly 
blunt disrespect
and disregard
he showed me
every day
I had to interact with him.

That work relationship 
dramatically changed 
my faith
my identity
my parental status
my relationship with my folks
my community
and 
altered my use of alcohol
forever.

Those changes definitely weren’t
always for the better,

though the blessing of 
my daughter
her presence in my life
did come out of 
that time.

God, he made me hate and 
doubt myself.
Unforgivable behavior towards
someone
already struggling with
that same shit from 
childhood.

Predators be predators…
they always find victims.

It’s still hard for me to accept that 
such wonderfulness, a blessed baby,
could be a partial result of such evil.

And he was evil.
There’s absolutely no doubt about that.

Whatever good he allegedly did
never EVER made up for the 
blatantly abusive behavior and 
bigoted, discriminatory attitude.

God speed to him.

(Hahaha.)

Saturday, September 2, 2023

What is love?

I’ve been obsessed
pathetically and pitifully
   codependent 
used
abusively cherished
coldly manipulative/ed
tearfully compulsive 
resignedly involved 
desperately willing 

   but

I don’t think I’ve ever 

   been in love.


After decades of
counseling and recovery
   I don’t even know what that emotion is
I know what I thought it was
what I was told it was
   what what what.

I finally came to understand
that whatever I have felt
   it wasn’t love
and I haven’t felt it
for a romantic partner
ever.

Even my own family of origin 
hasn’t been much of a role model
for that emotion
with all of their own 
   dysfunction and trauma.

Overall, the idea of 
love seems
unreal to me,
a commercial or
religious 
fairytale
or justification,
peddled as an excuse
to control others,
especially men
controlling women.

We/women are so
brainwashed by
that shit!

WHY does love seem so
transactional 
(rather than emotional)
to me?

I do know
that 
at this time 
there doesn’t 
seem to be much room or interest
in my heart or mind
to trust someone, 
to give them access to
my body
or 
my life
on that level,
let alone exploring 
an emotion
I don’t even know how to feel
or even really believe 
is real.

Even if I were willing, 
   how the heck would I
meet someone
anyway?

Monday, August 21, 2023

Daddy blues

It’s okay
to let go
to be ready
or, maybe, 
not ready.

Your bride is waiting
your parents
your god
countless others who
preceded you
now
eagerly excited 
to have you 
there 
though still 
it is
oh too soon
for those of us
left behind 
yet again.

Quietly watching
from a chosen distance
the slow fade out
the gentle preparation for
the journey of
your lifetime

Quietly mourning 
as I already have been
for most of my life.

Wishing the sadness 
and suffering 
were less for
all of us
but knowing 
that all
happens as it should.

I’ll miss you
but not as much
as I could have.


Wednesday, August 2, 2023

the door slam

did you hear that?

oh.

there it is again!

(OK, the second time 
I slammed it again,
just to make a point.)

So what did you all 
just hear?

It’s the 
good old
introvert
door slam.

It happens when
someone 
has had
enough of
someone else’s 
shit.

Especially when
that second someone
is a fucking 
narcissist.

I’m done, Missouri.
You hear me?



Friday, July 28, 2023

oh, that familiar old abandonment…

The woman has been dead 13 years.

Yet she is still hurting me 
through my sisters 
in whom her abusive 
and abandoning selfishness
lives on.

I don’t know why I continue to
hopebelieve that
it’s going to be differentbetter
now that her body
is rotting in the ground.

Like her father before her, 
my mother’s narcissistic evil  
continues to thrive
in her flying monkeys,
my evidently former siblings.

I am forced to face
the reality 
once again that
I have no family.

Why WHY do they keep excluding me
ignoring me
not including me
as part of the family?

I’ve done the work, made the amends,
and now lead
a better, healed sober life.

As it has always been,
it’s never good enough.

And yet…
I have no family.

The recurrent grief
is a gut punch 
every time.

My innocent inner children
have never quit crying
even when I have 
been hopeful of healing.

Despite their innocence,
they know better.
They never forgot.

and why WHY am I so surprised?

My family of origin is microcosm
of the larger world at present 
that is busy 
legislating and judging and prosecuting
harming and abandoning and raping
robbing and disregarding and murdering
any and all who don’t 
fit their worldview
who dare to be
their truest selves.

why am I so surprised?

I have never fit in anywhere.
I have completely stopped trying.

why bother?

Saturday, June 24, 2023

The double bind

The challenge and dichotomy of 
having inner children 
living in tandem
with the adult me
often reveals itself in 
how we deal with
and perceive
perpetrators.

Together, we struggle
to arrive at 
place of peace
where we can
live with each other
in our shared mind
without going crazy.

Three weeks ago, after
sitting through eight hours of 
jury selection questioning
for an incest/rape trial,
the inner kids grabbed the wheel and 
we regressed for two days
of tears, memories, illness, and body pain.

At about the same time
an extended family member 
was discovered to have been
molesting an even younger family member.

My response to second situation
was not trauma and regression.

It consisted of
several stages…

   wondering who had harmed the young perpetrator
   worry for the trauma and damage to the young victim

and 

   crushing depression and fear for how quickly
   three families were hurt and torn apart, 
   hurt and burned to the ground
   by this incident.

And yet
I wanted to protect the young perpetrator
I felt they should be given another chance
to live their life, to make amends,
to heal
rather than being villainized and outcast 
forever.

Incest and sexual abuse are hot button topics
in my family of origin
after generations and decades of 
abuse
but
if we can’t stop the passing on 
of the behavior
why couldn’t we then
pass on compassion
instead?

My inner children vigorously disagree.

I guess we’re just gonna have to live together 
with this polarization, in this place.

Because the adult me, the healed me
who is not coming from a place of trauma
(after so many years of work and counseling and healing)
wants to reach out and give the young one
a chance to do life right 
now
as long as the health and healing offered
(as part of the consequences of their actions)
is utilized by them.

I feel their abandonment
their pain
and even the fact that
they were betrayed too
by their extended family.

And I know what that leads to.
It doesn’t have to.

Can we start the healing?

Saturday, June 3, 2023

Just because (an epiphany)

Just because
you are mentally ill
doesn’t mean that 
you could not possibly have 
bad intentions.

Just because you say nice things
to my face
very sincerely 
(BUT this is actually 
gaslighting!)
doesn't mean 
you weren’t actively 
undermining me in 
every other area.

I kind of knew
all along
(dang that ever present 
self doubt)
but in my eagerness 
to please
to fit in and
to be of service,
I dismissed 
my misgivings,
my very 
(always dead-on accurate)
intuition
about you.

But now NOW 
I see clearly 
see it, 
SEE you.

As I think back over 
the last almost two years,
I realize
that I have been 
working with 
the most cunning and 
polished
narcissist I have 
ever met
and because 
I did not recognize you,
in the fog of your
blandishments and 
bullshit and 
oh-so-cunning 
manipulations, 
you almost destroyed me.

But,
like all of your kind,
you cannot sustain either
the destructive behavior
and false assurances,
the hoovering of other’s
tears and smiles,
rage and laughter
(all often generated 
by you),
while you smugly
sit back 
with your sycophants 
and feed and
grow fat(ter) on
other’s fear and 
misfortune and
confusion.
and trusting lack of
self awareness.

And so you leave 
to find 
new victims,
new energy sources,
new flying monkeys,
before you are 
completely unmasked 
here, 
though you would,
of course,
heatedly deny 
(and! attack! me!)
any and all assessments 
and conclusions
spoken aloud by me,
though you know 
that I know
and I know that 
you know that 
I know
now.

And the saddest part is
that I will not be
the only one
gratefully healing in
the relieved void
you will leave
in your self-righteous 
delusional
wake
though most will 
never understand
what hit us.

“Knowing the Narcissist”

Saturday, May 27, 2023

Don’t tell…

I’ve often been asked
why I did not report
the times I was
sexually assaulted
as an adult.

Until now,
I had only known that
my silence was because of fear.
But I didn’t really know 
the source of that fear
until today.

Watching a show on women 
accused of 
the false reporting of
sexual assault and 
subsequently being imprisoned.

(Imagine being a rape victim
imprisoned for reporting your rapist!!)
 

I realized
at this moment 
that
I never reported
what happened to me as an adult 
because 
I was a child sexually assaulted 
many times, 
as well as physically abused.

And no one ever believed me then
either
when I told.

My most significant
childhood memory 
is telling my mother
(when I was sixteen)
that her father was molesting us,
my five sisters and me.

I thought she was going to kill me
I can still see her enraged face, 
her hands ripping the hair out of my head,
screaming at me because 
I was 
accusing a great man
of such heinous acts.

I was a lying whore, 
in her estimation
for my imprudent words.

An interesting assessment
as I was still technically
a virgin
at that point…

(no thanks to her fucker of a father).

The kid me got the message:
don’t  tell 
or 
you’ll be severely punished
or maybe even
die.

The adult me
got the message too.

The adult me
never told 
either
though the world 
did a thorough job of
punishing me
anyway.

(“Victim/Suspect”, 2023, airing on Netflix)

Monday, May 22, 2023

Perfect attendance

As a kid, 

I was super proud of 

my stellar (outstanding unblemished)

school record.

I hated to miss school

because I liked it so much

(the alternative being

being at home-no thanks!)

I tended to get 

good grades

too and

teachers always liked me 

because I was pretty compliant

(they didn’t see 

the submission to 

a fearful home reality.)


As an adult, I have 

another

perfect 

record

if only in

attracting and dating 

the absolute biggest losers

the looniest narcissists 

the most intensely predatory abusers.

Every time I think

I’ve escaped 

my own legacy,

I manage to instead

prove myself 

wrong 

again.

Even after 

a multiyear absence

from the dating scene,

it’s still only losers

all the way down.

Turtles all the way down” Sturgill Simpson: https://youtu.be/LWx6csgGkg4




Thursday, April 27, 2023

Megaphonic rage

They say my rage is

outsized 

but I do not

think so.

So sick of the 

fucking patriarchy 

oppressing everyone 

who is not the

white patriarchy.

Where is everyone else’s rage

at this stunning injustice?

How can anyone stay home

while this shit is going on

in our government and

our communities and

act like it’s no big deal or 

that it’ll blow over?

How can you not see it, people?

How do you sit with it, sit still?

How do you sleep at night?

How do you live with yourself?

I keep wondering

am I crazy? or 

is everyone else just 

that passive or

that blind?

I cannot sit still or 

be quiet when 

other people are being 

killed or 

jailed or 

beaten or 

told they don’t have 

a right to exist?

Especially women. 

Any woman. 

CIS or trans.

Don’t you know we’re next???


Irrelevant” by Pink