death becomes her

she called last night three sheets to the wind to make a point of all the nonsense that so carelessly escaped her mouth. We are now in the end stages of a disease in which I am not sure where it came from or why it came. The trinity is being tampered with. We are now 400 light-years from Punky Brewster and Rainbow bright. I listen to her intently trying to get a word in edge wise but my words are tired and my phrases exhausted. She is another lost cause. Then there is the head chief of this said trinity that is much like an old sweater unraveling yarn by said yarn, and then the sick one who I don't hear from often and only can assume all of her feelings and emotions. It only affects us the three and the mother.

Death has become us.

My dark and highly cooky sister talks of it all the time trying to swim deeper and deeper into its unthinkable abyss. She rehashes every possible situation, and eventually I loose her, spiraling down into my own morbid thoughts. Not much makes since these days.

We wait in the car, the temperature is tolerable. Dusk is setting in. A cool breeze blows through the two open windows as I decide it's too stuffy. Where is she? She said it would only be a minute, but i knew better. I could see her scatterbrained with that comatose look in her eyes going to the aisles and forgetting why she is there, will i ever use words start with a "Q" frequently...I am now in the store with her studying her every move like I did so many times before. I would use her state of mind to my advantage while placing my favorite items in the basket the usual, Fruity Pebbles, Metal Edge, Cola, and Little Debbie's. Studying. Then the rattling car pulls in ruining my slumber. Its shaking hopping and booming out constant words of fuck and great rhymes of street life.

He bounces in the back seat finally succedding in getting my attention. He says things that pull on my heart. It musn't be probable to love someone so much your heart aches, but it is. He is lucky. He is young. He is innocent. He is pure of heart and true. Life is simple for him although he begs to differ. She finaly comes out forcing a smile and rewards our patience with a candy bar. Will I everunderstand her? Probably not, she is too much. Too much like an opera I've seen a million times in another language, although I get the gist of it I will never truly understand it. Its always there now always growing, the dark cloud that is behind us to consume us and test our agility. We are frightended now and fully aware that in one millisecond our lives will be forever changed.





For the movies

I was in love only once. I had declared it many times, but only once was it true. My love is definitely true.

For the movies

Bring in the water proof mascara by the truck loads its going to be along one. The star of the movie has just been casted for a tragic story. The director has been fired, the producer has moved on to a better project, the cast have all become suddenly ill from bad sushi. The set is over run with pine trees. Our heroin has only one thing to smile about the protector is still present, the distant colors of the sunset are teasing her taunting across the sky she cannot see the sunset for the view is block with those retched trees. Her heart aches to have a door of her own now has grown into a debilitating pain running between her shoulder blades to the top of her head. the cooky one says "be strong, you are strong." Yeah I'm a fucking green beret. Nerves are now exposed, the elements can get to them. I cry. I am dehydrated by my own tears. Leaking one would say. Bring in the bottled water by the case, it's going to be a long one...one really smug writer said lets put her in the worst possible situations and see if she can make it through them. Lets only put them days apart so we can see the bewildered look on her pretty face. Lets stress her to the point of skin breakage. Bring in the Oil of O'lay by the cases, its going to be a long one. A toilet of my own. An unscarred soul, a new start. A smile. My very own set of backup dancers. A morning of my own, all i want is to be what i want.

The idea of that seems like a fantasy, my movie now has a cast, a few trolls, some unicorns and a rainbow with a pot o' gold

A window to call my own, cleaning house in my slumber never to be alone. The mother is proud, cue the mother, she calls on the phone of my own and tells me she is proud of me. We have put the characters in bad situations lets see them work on them and come out on top. Please don't be one of thoseindependent films that leaves you going "what the hell, nothing was resolved." I have sat to long in my silence. Soon I willdisappear. My movie has now written itself. I have no control of its course. Bring the popcorn by the cases its going to be a long one.




Grandpa

wonder what was here before....



will people be saying that a billion years from now while standing on a well populated street that at one time used to be "the farm". One very intuitive girl will say that and feel the presence of my ancestors. I thought I would have prepared myself better, that the feeling of loss would simply skip me. I was wrong, yet again always wrong. I smoked a thousand cigarettes and downed coffee and whiskey, but my beloved mind altering drugs did not support me they only clouded and strengthend the pain. Now life seems so shaken. Sitting before me another mindless job that i must fight myself to keep, ignoring insensitive blank faces of people who somehow think they are better than me. Daydreaming to fight another day, longing for the innocence of my youth. My stoic grandfather has left us, but has only started the spiral of death. With every passing I will become less of what I was. Who was I anyway? I might never remember . Parkinsons might attack me or lung cancer or maybe even a squirrl, loosing his balance, falling out of a tree, and impaling himself in my head causing me to bite the proverbial dust . Just the vengence for the many glorified rats I have brung to death with fiery automobile.

I stood there on my porch of broken dreams, and gazed over the piece of land we all consider ours, yet the stoic one had worked for it and givin it to us. I t was our little piece of fame. For some a hideaway, for some a home, for others a reuinion site. But for stoic one and german one, their whole world.

When she joins him will it burn down and turn to ash? Will the feilds grow over until some rich yuppie buys it for his 5th home site? Will a paved city cover over its graces and while people stand waiting for the flying bus to come know that four feet below them is my big wheel. I felt like waking up next to my grandpa in my underwear with ruffles on the butt in his easychair watching Night Rider trying to explain to hime this silly dream. But alas i can not. Lump forming in throat area. It is all so much. A spider crawls across my desk. A strange fall day in spring. I just want the old time feeling back. I could bottle it in jam and sell it to the millions of blank faces out there to let them experiance its glory. They could sit over drinks and argue about who discovered it first. I just want it back. I want him back. I want her back. I want my mtv back. I want my ruffled panties back. I want him to come home. (insert David here). I want to remember me. I want you all to remember me. I want to remember you. Stale memories now consume my mind. I have now canned another one and put him on my shelf for future refrence. To feel so strongly is my strength and my weakness. Lump forming in throat.. can not swallow. I wonder who lived here before me. Death becomes us. His story is us. We are history...............





what have i become my sweetest friend everyone i know goes away in the end nin