One day

And the look she gave me when she found out

was a mixture of pain and regret

with disbelief and, of course,..

anger, the anger that turns your vision red
The anger that hides

her the quivering lower lip of dis-trust and the tears of betrayal streaming down her face.

I did not intend to cause her so much pain and so many tears.

I got caught in my addiction.

So many years and weeks and days of

honesty

sincerity,

faithfulness

trustworthiness

shattered and now rent useless.

Cutting into her chest with a razor-sharp wood chisel, slowly stripping the skin off her ribs, would be less painful.

Breaking her exposed ribs one by one, would be less painful.

It was me, piercing her exposed trusting heart, with my selfish behavior

that causes me to be guilt ridden
labeled "betrayer!!"

and the shatter-er of lives.

and it started not too long ago, ....

One day I was bored, nothing more nothing less,....

Confident in myself, I thought about a short escape from reality.

other people can look,...... once

other people can taste,........... once

it had been so many years since I have done either,

and with the years of accomplishment as my justification,
I believed I was like the other people that can taste,... just,..... once.

One day I was bored, nothing more nothing less,...

That one day, no one was home, it had been a rough week at work and the family was at one of the kids ball games without me. I was alone and bored.

That day I took a look and had a taste, not too much,.... just enough to time-warp past the boredom.

When the family got home, I was cool,

... and no one knew what I had done.

The family was talking to me, but in the back of my mind, I was playing again and again and again, that secret-feeling, not hearing a word they say, I just wanted that secret-feeling again.

All of a sudden everyone was laughing at what my oldest had just said,

I not listening

missed the humor,

missed the spontaneity of the moment

missed the moment of family love and togetherness.

I laughed, not knowing why, ...
and inside I felt guilty and alone, ...an outsider to my close, loving family.

Just a few hours ago had a small taste and I am now thinking more of that,.

than being with those that I love so much.

The next day, using my self-inflicted guilt I tried to push that secret-feeling away,

but the work too stressful

the traffic too much

the money too little

blended with my guilt.

The secret-feeling wants me and I want it.

Living in the anxiety that makes my head explode I search for relief, and find it in the fantasy of using again.

The fantasy turned into a goal.
With the goal in mind I created a plan,
The plan gave me focus and my anxiety went away and I felt like I had control of my life.

That day, I left work earlier than normal, and got home later than normal.

By the time I got home,
I had missed the dinner table conversations
so I did not have to fake laughing at a missed joke,

By the time I got home,
the kids were in their bedrooms already
so I did not need to look into their precious trusting, crystal clear eyes.

by the time I got home,
the kids were asleep
So I did not have to give them hugs and remember how important they are to me.

by the time I got home,
I could justify just going to sleep
so I did not have to hide the telltale signs of usage from my wife.

I passed out, not feeling the guilt,

I passed out and not feeling the anxiety

I passed out not feeling the love.

I passed out not feeling.


This was the first day that led to me
to be guilt ridden
labeled "betrayer!!"

and the shatter-er of lives.

boy crying

the little boy begin carried by his mother

looking over her shoulder crying

screaming

DAAAD

daddy

daddy

DAAAAAAd,

and his older brother looks back to see his dad as they move out of of sight

gets a slap to the back of his head and stern words from his mother.

and as I turn the corner I see a man with a tissue with water filled eyes

using the the tissue to blow his nose and hide his emotionally ravaged countenance.

sniffling as if he has a cold or in his truth crying uncontrolably

crying as if it was his fault for the previous scene,

I put myself here

And I cant stand the thought,... that I put myself here

choked up

tear filled

stomach wrenching from the pain

pain of longing for

pain of needing

pain of so desperately wanting to be with

one more touch

one more hug

to smell their hair one more time

my very core

and my heart

are now both void and hollow without you.

I can't find enough distractions to ease my pain, to ease my guilt.

The death metal that can rip the skin off my bones as it erupts through my speakers has no effect.

I am numb to the disgust of the cockroaches crawling across my feet.

Numb is all I can hope for,....

my pain,

my agony and

my regret

it is ALL my fault.

I, . . . . . did the abandoning.

I destroyed the utopia, thinking that it would all work out.

The movies always show living happily ever after, our life had been a wonderful storybook, so it should end happily ever after.

but like the only survivor of a plane crash in the desert, it is, I, who tries to survive.

To live one more day.

using images of you,

the hope of seeing you,

the need to hold you and breath you in again

to get drunk looking into your eyes

to hear you laugh, one more time

I the solitary survivor - do what I need to

to live one more day.

and my self inflicted torment makes my sick

food wants nothing to do with me.

something is trying to rip its way out of my chest.

I am suffocating on my loneliness.

The music can't get loud enough.

I can't write enough.

I can't become numb enough to forget

forget the way you can get soooo mad

forget your cute little phrases

forget your never ending smile.

The homeless have shelters.

The suicidal have hot-lines.

But for me there is no help for me while I survive the loneliness.

no help from the repeating thought,

I put myself here

its my fault - I put myself here

I put myself here

its my fault - I put myself here

I put myself here

The ATL trams brokedown

the inhumanity of people pushing and shoving
parents dragging children, pushing them to take another step
another step
another step,...
beyond their exhaustion.
the few belongings they can carry are clutched on-to for dear life.

One family forced to decide should they leave their meager belongings or their child 's precious property, those little things that make the child feel safe and secure. The parents have only enough strength for one or the other and no time for compromise, so they choose.
.
.
.


And the back pack that looks like a teddy bear is trampled and kicked around, its guts spilling as the mob runs. Her favorite scarf, her princess tierra, the stuffed toy she has had for the last 3 years spill out of the now dead teddy bear. And I caught up on the horror am about to kick it out of my way when it rolls and looks at me, with one of its eyes now missing, and scuff marks that looks like sad little tears on its precious soft fleece face.

a symbol for what has happened, a lost soul with no one to love it during this most dreadful of times.

but my moment of mourning is broken by a shove and a woman part crying, part screaming with the most dreadful tone imaginable saying "Oh my god I can't believe this is happening to us"

And then I hear the gamut of "God Damn" and "God bless" and "God save us",....... But God has nothing to do with the horor unfolding, even he, the killer of millions, the one that turned Lot's beloved wife to salt, the one that killed David and Bathsheba's baby boy, could not have come up with this torturous day.

Some sit exhausted, they have given up, no fight left in them resigned to the fate that will come.

Some couples urge each other on to break through the wall of exhaustion and get their much needed "second wind"

And a few that chose to shed themselves of their possessions, run, run as if their life depended upon it, refusing to be trampled by the hoard. They dodge in and out of the masses, occasionally pushing someone out of their way and jumping over the little children that wander into their path. They will survive!

the confusion
the disbelief
some just stay frozen in the shock of the moment.

Some people try to maintain civility and politeness and humanity, but such efforts are lost on the too many trying to get through.

The pregnant lady, even she must fend for herself, her impregnater and protector in another town can do nothing to help. Her protruding, soon to be bundle of joy, right now is a horrible encumbrance that threatens her very existence, if she were a kangaroo she could leave her joey to be trampled and in doing so save herself.

And the few entrepreneurs that believe in money, betting that there will be a tomorrow, stake out a corner to sell only the basics, bottles of water, days old sandwiches, anything quick to grab and eat on the run.

Some fearing this be the last nourishment for hours make the purchase. They are frustrated and outraged by the incredibly high prices for such simple items, but there is no time to argue, so they hurriedly pick items pay for them then run away trying to make up for the lost time.

And the ladies with their fashionable shoes finally relent, and for the first time in years walk without heals, walking barefoot, foot flat on the floor, they trip over their pants that are now 4 inches too long, but they soon remember how to walk, and soon they too are running with the crowd.

my life is normal

my life is normal

i have a mom and a dad that have never lived together

my dad married a new wife, when I was little

and now I have baby sister,

my life is normal

I have two moms and one dad

I get along with my little sister

and now I have a baby brother

so,.. when I'm there its 3 girls to 2 boys

Girls Rule!

I will be 9 in a few months

so at my dad's I get to have birthday cake fiiiivvvee times every year.

my life is normal

I have different rules to follow when I am at my mom's than when I am at my dad's

just like there are rules for when you are at school like (stay in line) that are different from rules on the field trip to the children's museum (go explore, touch everything)

there are rules for when you are in the house, like (USE YOUR indoor voice) then when your outside you can talk normal

just like rules when you talk to adults are different then when you are are playing with your friends.

i have different rules when I am with my mom than when I am with my dad and other mom.

with my mom we have lots of secrets we can't tell my dad,

when I keep those secrets I feel special and important and I need to protect my mom

but with my dad and other-mom, . . . they never tell me to keep secrets

and I feel confused and guilty for keeping secrets

but, my life is normal

I am still in the first grade because I missed so many days of school

at my mom's each week there is a different uncle that visits

sometimes they play too loud all night long and sometimes they get into fights that last all night so,....I don't always get a lot of sleep and can't wake up in time for the bus to school.

the first 10 times I missed the bus I tried waking my mom to tell her so she could drive me to school

but since my mom has been up all night also she can't help me

so,...its really my fault I don't get to the bus stop, no matter how tired i am i really should get to the bus stop

my life is normal

when I go to my dad's

The first thing I have to do is take a bath, my other-mom washes my hair and we talk about the plans for the next few days, and sometimes I splash her with water and she splashes me back, . . . . . . . . once we splashed each other so much the water got on the carpet in the hallway.

I like the way I feel after a bath, my hair feels nice and soft, and the slight scent of soap on my skin, its like i am alive again and have no worries. and can do anything.

I like it when my other-mom brushes my hair as I sit in her lap, and

I really like the hugs and kisses from them both.

my life is normal

when I am at my dad's house they go outside to smoke cigarettes.

when I am at my mom's house she smokes inside the house and when the uncles are there

they smoke out of this big plastic thing that makes a gurgling sound, they sometimes cough and then laugh as they wipe a tear from their eyes,

then some times I see them in the living room putting their head close to the coffee table then sit up, I think they have the sniffles and are sucking it in ,. . . . .

Thats GROSS !

they should use a tissue like my other-mom tells ME to do.

A few weeks ago when we had that earthquake,

they let us out school early and when I got home my mom didn't know so she just slept through me knocking at the door. . . .

Its OK i know she gets tired . .

so,.. I went to my neighbor, they couldnt wake her either. so i just sat on the door step for, i guess 3 hours before she was able to wake up and let me in.

my life is Now NOT normal

for the past few months there's been an adult-my mom doesn't like-asking me and my teachers all sorts of questions, and my two moms stop talking as soon as i come into the room.

I must be in really BIG trouble so I try to be extra good.

I keep mom's secrets

Make it to the bus on time

do my school work and home work

am extra nice to my little sister

I don't know yet what id did wrong but it feels like it must be something really really bad.

my life is Still not normal

my dad and other-mom just told me that "A woman thats a judge helps adults make decisions that in the best interest of the child"

before I could ask "what does THAT mean?" they said that the judge decided i should live with them and not my mom.

then they tell me

I don't need to keep secrets,...

and I'll have a bed time,...

and I'll go to school everyday,...

and I don't have to take care of my mom,...

and that they will take care of me,...

and then I begin to cry,

uncontrollable sobbing and tears stream down my face

but I don't know why I'm crying but I just cant stop

Picasso

I sit in my room packed full of my stuff
my treasures
my memories
my words
my addictions
my desires
my unfinished
my books (owned and borrowed)
my very being

and I reflect on all the good I have done
and I regret all the bad I have done

I feel proud of my accomplishments
tactful agility of my words
confident in my thoughts,
I embrace my emotions
I rely on my perceptions

proud of my kids and their accomplishments

Tears of pure humbleness fill my eyes when they say, "I did not know what to do,....and I asked myself, what would You do"

After so many years of marriage, we are still symbiotic catalysts for each other,
Happy,
such a simple word, but so very real for us.

and with all that is good in my life,
there is this haunting
this, this,.. this, THING that taunts me
that stalks me
and I know I'm not the only one.

I and others are compelled to its control
Those not afflicted, think my actions are just on the other side of insanity.

If it does not get its required attentions, evil is unleashed in many many forms.

I have friends, that are mesmerizer by it, like a moth at night-to-a-light turned on inside a house, hitting up against a window again, and again, and again and again, trying desperately to get to the light, but just doesn't understand that they can't ever really get to it.

The light mocks their attempts to be satisfied, as does the THING.

It aggravates us.

This thing can be satisfied, as water prevents dehydration and death, but only if you drink every three days.

and on that third day without it we feel
anxious
tense
depressed
suicidal
selfish

selfish that is the greatest irony of this thing, it is most selfish,
it demands attention
it is never satisfied
it is never happy
it is always longing for more
it is cold and heartless


the musician knows it
the painter knows it
the sculptor has his own version
and the writer knows it

the insidious thing, to the outsider is nothing it is blank, null, void, meaningless

and that is an even greater irony than its selfishness, what appears to be nothing is actually to the select few, a taunting insanity can never fully be satisfied, once filled it magically becomes empty again and needs to be filled once more.

this

THING

is

a blank piece of paper,

an empty canvas,

a stone not yet brought to life,

and as soon as life is breathed into it, there is another

blank piece of paper,

empty canvas or

stone , calling, taunting demanding to be brought to life

and once it has life there is another

poem to write

painting to paint

sculpture to break free from the rocks.

p.s.

I call this Picasso, because at the Picasso Exhibit there was one of his paintings;

it was of a room full of color and paintings and curtains, and just off center of the room

on an easel

was a blank canvas

calling

haunting

demanding to be filled

center of the world

Oblivious.

The person not holding me

keeps me in the dark

I seeing no light, although I still see waves of energy, while waiting to come to life.

my need to be touched and held and looked at, 

all ignored

I am the center of the world for moments, sometimes hours, and then darkness.

the person NOT holding me is engrossed in other things

in conversation with other people

in telling jokes

in listening

I plea for attention, hoping for a touch, a look, to be held, 

but like one stranded on a desert island seeing a plane that does not see him

I am ignored

feeling abandoned

feeling alone.

I hear the person laughing, and touching others with me so close, I am not even though of..

so I scream as loud as I can 

NOTICE ME

TOUCH ME

FEEL ME

but the screams are ignored, 

I the center of the world must wait

wait in the dark

wait for a wave of energy that will bring me out of the darkness again

energy that will make me feel the touch, make me feel important.

I have one trick, that always works, that special call I can do

the call that tells him, he is in love

the sound that makes him stop what he is doing.

the sound that makes him hold me

makes me again the center of the universe

and here it comes that special ring-tone, that can break through the noise of the loudest bar

and soon he is touching me

caressing me 

massaging me

and I shine for him

remind him how important I am, 

as he reads my face he know what he must do, 

plz on ur way hm, get hotdogs, chips, soda and B hm Soooon kids are goin %-)

the breakup

Our journey started at the bottom of the desert mountain in the fall.

life giving rains watered the slopes we tread,

easy at first, then steep and steeper still

a loose rock here and there,

a rattlesnake across our path,

caused us to go on paths not marked

and my first taste of the agave.

we were on the move up, so no time to relish in the agave's beauty,

we continued to the unknown

then a landslide, we barely made it alive

we looked down and saw only rubble, where our journey started.

in the winter we were close to the top, basking in the warm winter days, holding each other close on the almost freezing desert nights.

times were hard during that dry spell, but we survived together.

we survived till the next rain.

the rain caused the agave to grow, and I uncontrolled drank deep and often.
it was not till my near death on a freezing night, that your loving words came through and touched my soul again.

when spring came we had been at the top for a while,

comfortable, settled,

it was just you and me again,

predictable

empty words

routine

stifled

suffocating

in a rut so deep we feared the next rain would drown us,

so we headed down,

steep at first, then it smoothed out

and we found ourselves on a gentle slope in the middle of a field of flowers,

beauty,

gentle smell of mesquite,

the desert alive, and with it us

and I saw the agave but left it alone.

when summer came, we were more than half way down

thirsty for life,

looking for relief from the sun

the life that was once flowers and struggles to overcome together

was is now a brown dusty hell

burning our hearts

burning our souls

a burning so strong that

we see no beauty

we see no life

we see no us

death, if we stay

so you with your mesquite go left

and I follow the agave and go right.

thanks roscoe

sitting silent easy

inter-action hard.

loneliness in a group,..

that is me

you reach out in your way, but I not knowing what to say,

say nothing.

so I, distant, awkward, inept

feeling alone

don't reach out to your extended hand.

but I come back

again and again and again

learning

slowly learning

how to say hi

I awkward know not what to do

i am different

i run away to my shell, to deep inside my mind, at the slightest discomfort

loneliness is safe

loneliness is me

loneliness in a room full of people

that want to know me,

seem to accept me,

talk to me

extend their hand to me

extend their hearts to me

acknowledge me

support me

and help me

and I the great outsider keep my barriers up,

but I come back

again and again and again

learning

slowly learning

how to share parts of me.

you applaud in honesty

you applaud encouragement

you value me enough to know my name

when I fell you were there to pick me up

I am different and you are OK with my difference

and I come back

again and again and again.

learning,

growing

truly grateful for

talking to me

applauding me in honesty and encouragement

knowing my name

extending your arm in friend ship

and sharing your heart

step forward

one step forward is huge

The pre-toddler works out for months before he or she takes their first step

laying on their stomach arching their back like their flying

bouncing while holding your hands,

holding on to furniture to just stand there

it takes work and dedication and time.

one step forward is huge

for an adult it means that the three things that knocked you down are neutralized

and after getting through the shit you took another step

so you really took four steps to get to one step forward.

it takes work and dedication and time.

I see that the lost one takes a step forward

a small step but a forward step,

outsiders see chaos and misdirection

but when asked the lost one says

"but I think, I took a step forward"

Others will say:

but what if it doesnt work

but what if this

and what if that

the lost one feels confused, diswayed

but using me to hold his ground he says

"I took a step forward"

"a small step but a forward step "

Others say

there are needs you are not taking care of

I need you to do this

you need to to that

and the lost one stumbles a bit

feeling insecure and unsure

then I tell the lost one that

"I took a step forward"

"a small step, but a step forward"

"and I KNOW what my next step will be"

The lost one leaning against me tells the needy others

"I know you need, but I took a step forward

"a small step, but a step forward"

"and I think I know what my next step should be"

The others say

don't forget what you used to say

don't forget our need

don't forget about this

don't forget about that

and the lost one feels overwhelmed and broken.,,,,

and I tell the lost one that I have not yet been able to take my second step YET,

but i know it is the right step, and i am close to being able to take it.

and the lost one resists the needy,

and in doing so resists the forced mediocrity of following the others

and he says proudly with chest out and head held high

"I took a step forward"

"a small step but a forward step "

"and it was ME that took that step"

"and I KNOW what my next step will be"