story premise...

The steel was cold, damp from lying in my hands too much of the night and into the dawn. My hand was numb to the point of rigidity, left arm frozen in support. No way was I dropping that gun. No way was I dying that day. But hopefully my finger would stick when it came time to finally shoot. If I had to shoot. It was not so much cold that day as wet and gray, but anything was cold to me while I prayed for the sun. Mick’s breath was more than warm on the back of my neck but both lying prone in such a small space, him behind me, there was no choice. More than warm. Even as he lay half conscious from loss of blood there was evidence of his arousal in proximity to me…more than warm. Solid, my grip on the gun and Mick pressed against my ass. That’s all that kept me alert, my own loss of blood almost irrelevant. Almost. If I didn’t pass out soon, the craving would take me and I could smell his blood still pulsing under his shallow breathes. Daddy had fought too long to keep me from turning for me to turn now. Fought hard to keep me as I was, his blade of justice. But daddy was getting older and even his hatred couldn’t keep him alive much longer. That I was his seed had barely kept me alive in my infancy. That I was his tool of revenge though, kept me useful. His tool, their tool. And I never once used my own given weapon, always used steel heavy or sharp.

You're so cool.

You're so cool.

Thoughts trip lightly off the tongue
Off the fingertips that searched last eve
For strength stolen without a second’s
Dreaming. She slept well, Candyman.

I step back because I can
Because my thoughts reside
In the tomorrow of his death
In Saturday of his burial
And in two months of his birth
Date and

I step back because thoughts
Of him spur me to live and I
Am afraid of wrong decisions though
I also step back because I can,
Because…it’s alright and feels…
Good in the now like it could be sweet.

Sparkin’ takes a little time though and
It's an in person sort of thing.
It takes a mind and a body,
A smile that does stuff to ya.

I am not the greatness but the sweetness,
And in my independence I am still that girl left
To her own device, making her own way,
In need of cherished words and caress,
That girl that let’s her heart go by the way
For she will not beg, should not have to.

Thoughts that have no meaning more
Than that they tripped forth and others
Bleeding her soul like ink on paper
And the scratch scratch the pen makes..
That she finds so pleasing.

he

He is Daddy
He is Robert
He is God, Thanos, Eros,
He is the tall man
In swirls of aura jet
That holds me strong;
‘He’ often brings me comfort
And refers to many and none.

II
He deals it out
Like candy, like crack
And I the child, the whore
Takes it, craving the next fix
Letting him off.

on divorce and love

I loved you with all of me
As that there was none left, yet
Who can say the day of turning:
The fulcrum at best simply was
Instinctual and you
Were the interruption
Of the forming
That became me.
I loved you with all of me
Would that you could have
Loved me as well,
But now knowing what we do.

I never really took the time to think
Where it went wrong, only that it did.
Never really took the time to place the
Blame, only that it took two and I
Was simply one. Yes I took the time to note
Without you I could not have grown
And finally have said “honey it’s time
To move on…” And then, took the time
To truly know…it was done.

And now?
I love me with all of me
Which paves the way
For loving another
And I will find the one
That loves himself
Just as well, paving
The way for loving me.

Yesterday may have been
Mundane at best and a little stressed
But one of the happiest days
Of my life for the simple reason
I am alive and living,
The future left unknown
As I turn to it gently unassuming.