stay

I don’t have long to spend with you – but we have those spirits

passing through our house again.  I feel them, he feels them.

I’d think you’d feel them if you were open to it.

I don’t need to tell you that last week was rough.  

I saw red and heard the bees in my ears –

my world went numb again, but he doesn’t care, 

and I’m left blue and scared.

I don’t have long to tell you – I’m grateful that you’re here.

you let me run out, even in the dark of night,

 when I see his pale face and hear his sighs.  

you help me ignore all the frogs as I try to drive down the street,

watch them bounce off my wheels, but I don’t stop.

I keep on going, keep on remaining

much like the shadows that play in our house,

and I’m gently reminded that those souls must be

welcomed here.  they have lived Sufferer’s torment more, 

they are tired of living in fear.

notions

my only hope is that Sleep will find him.

tuck him gently in her long, scarless arms

to rest his constant mind.  arms pale as this

paper – pure as your snow.  Sleep will sing him

the sweetest songs to take away his bad

thoughts; erase the memories of the day

gone wrong.  whisper affectionately in

his ear that he his good, he is strong, and

that he is loved.  as I move away from

his now shut door, I pray that Sleep comes for

him.  whisks him away to a place where he

does extraordinary things; after

all, dreamland is an even playing field.

no worries for me in that hopeful place.

my only wish is that Sleep finds him, and

after that time, she then remembers me.

mood

Sometimes I see you turn right in front of

me.  I wish I were blind so I would not

have to see.  One minute calm, the other

minute pain as you rip the flesh off my

palm.  I look into your eyes, but you’re not

there.  I cry and plead.  See what you’ve done to 

me?  Do you even care?  No good answers

to sing sweetly in my ears.  All I get

is your same blank stare.  How can I talk to

you, my son, when you are no longer there?

 

 

dear diary

why is he so sad

was he created to be so miserable 

and

unknowingly, without trying

make us so miserable

it’s so boring and boring

this mess we’re in

all this crying, all this striving

 

why does he say,

I want to go to heaven!”

does he even know what he’s releasing

out to the air

when those emotions flood through him

like concrete, like stone

making him stuck,

making us stuck

Why is life so unfair?”

Why does life suck?

 

I’m so tired and tired of being this way

I want to think about hope, think about laughter

and

dream about the life

I want him to chase after

 

 

 

night

the way he is right now

I’ve learned to walk silently across the floor 

I’m a tall, strong woman with weary size ten feet

but I’m here tiptoeing and praying not to wake the manic beast, 

the way he is right now 

The past 2 weeks were okay

how I wish that guy could stay 

the one with the kind blue eyes 

the one that copies the clouds 

in the sky

the one who speaks gentle words 

and doesn’t wish for me to die

He doesn’t mean it, they always say 

But seriously, doesn’t dawn always beckon a new day?

Oh God, what if he means it?

These are the thoughts that make me lock my door

before I attempt to sleep

thoughts that make me say that extra prayer 

thoughts that make me easily tiptoe with my weary size ten feet 

to walk silently across the floor

begging not to wake the manic beast