All the confections in the land
sat atop the table in front of her,
and she pondered and pondered
which would be the most delicious,
the most scrumptiously saccharine,
and she deliberated and deliberated –
paralysed with indecision
over which would be the most devilishly divine dessert.
I’m sick of creating progress charts and tables and goals
to ensure I’m being disciplined and Good
and leading a Normal life
Get out of house – check
Did not miss work – check
Have meal with loved ones – check
Showered today – check
Every check off my list, though good for me, but reminders
that my Normal requires tiresome vigilance.
My father’s face
is often shrouded
cloudy with cigarette smoke as he shoos me away,
rebuffing his little girl’s attempts for affection
protecting me from a hazard
only he brings into our home.
My father’s face
is often faraway
like seeing him in a fog,
I cup his face in my hands but I can never see him clearly.
Thoughts once so prevalent in my being
that only serve to overwhelm me, plague me, hurt me
Would they still be in my head
or would they have gone someplace far, far, away
never to return?
Would they linger, bits and pieces festering in corners
of a rickety mind, eating away at the little I have left?
I feel so crazy. I feel so crazy.
I feel so bad. Everything inside me is bad.
Everything around me is bad.
The world is bad and so am I.
Everything is evil and everything hurts. Everything hurts.
I sit on my chair and the Bad just oozes out of me, seeping out of my every pore…but it doesn’t leave me.
It doesn’t leave.
Why must you be this way?
Why must you slam cabinet doors and
bang glass cups on glass tables and
barge through rooms in a flurry and
why do words fall out of your mouth and
shatter into my consciousness?
Why can’t you treat things —
why can’t you treat me gently,
with care and with kindness?
Why must your smiles be manipulative
and your eyes be filled with mania,