I’m probably disgusting. Traipsing about in ratty clothing, letting my unmentionables jiggle. Speaking my opinions as if there’s a person in the world that gives a damn. Shaving the sides of my head while I let my pit hair grow. Continue reading RE:ality
All posts by Ro
Walk on Part
Women hate me. I mean HATE me. The way the popular girl hates the comic book geek in the 80s movie. I don’t understand it. I’ve never understood it. I still can’t apparently.
The trick is… I AM a woman. I’m not a man. I’ve been abused by every woman I’ve ever been close to. I’m the constant factor and that makes me some kind of victim I can’t recognize. I’m not a victim. I’m a warrior.
The Hulkette
I keep my anger in check for the most part. I’m furious with so much of the world, at my own existence, so much of the time I forget it’s there. I don’t feel like Mark Ruffalo really delivered the line to its full potential – I’m always angry. I think it’s why I can walk the streets unmolested almost anywhere. The poor fool that triggers me and unleashes this level of repression might just get his ass killed. At minimum, gravely wounded. Continue reading The Hulkette
Phoneless in Seattle
It was an irritation at first. Oh no, I don’t have a phone. Gee whiz, that’s not convenient. I still went about my day. Made do with the silence. Kept all the appointments I had potentially made. I had a 16 candles moment on Friday, hoping to see the person I’d invited to the Moth. I didn’t really expect him to show. No follow-up is legit reason to not be there. My complete radio silence is reason enough to never think about me again. Alas, or something. Continue reading Phoneless in Seattle
Roeses
Bouquets of fish eggs
Sloshing and slippery
Dripping
Oozing
Plopping off the ends
Of baby’s breath
Small globes of salty trust
Waiting for life
Wasted
Like sperm in a sock
Silently washed
Forgotten
Aborted
From thought
I’m bleeding now
Isn’t that enough
You want more?
Let me see
(feels self)
I have a tiny bit
more to give
But you have to stop
When I say
STOP
If I say go
GO
But,
Please don’t go.
I’m alone without you.
I don’t know what to do
without you
Until
I meet someone else
They ask why I try
They ask what I want
I say I don’t know
Because
I love you
But I don’t
Want to do this again.
Feel this low.
Know this pain.
I can help you
She says.
I want to believe
I want to
LET GO
To do that is simple
Every time you almost care
Take a shot.
(gulp)
If you look around
And everything still seems
useless
(gulp)
Rinse.
Repeat.
Survive.
That’s all you need.
(gulp)
What’s My Name Bitch
No one really knows. Not knowing names keeps me level with everyone. I don’t get too attached. I’d rather know your dog’s name. I’m more likely to like your dog. The people I get along with are usually dog owners. My idea of interesting conversation makes most people uncomfortable. It’s like a rabbit hole and if you aren’t used to free-falling within a stranger’s consciousness it can be a little overwhelming at times. But that’s when I feel the most connection, that point where most shy away. Continue reading What’s My Name Bitch
Mercy Seat
How should we do this?
Tell you about my faults?
Fears?
Mind killers?
Why should you care?
Apathy isn’t a super power
Any more than laziness is a skill
Languishing in pain
Waiting for someone
anyone
to notice me.
See me doing such a great job
Holding it together.
I don’t blame my mother
Any more than I blame her mother
Growing up in an sectional world
Living in a time
Witnessing crimes
People already spoke against
Ages ahead of my birth.
Why then?
Can’t I say it’s wrong
Still.
Progress is HARD
and SLOW
Especially that last bit
After the real conflict.
During the time children
Take for granted
Things my generation
watched happen.
Sometimes lack of conflict
Is characterized by the silence
I’m told to keep.
Others reject any semblance
Of what they used to resemble
And claim progress.
As if the shadow
Of who we are
Isn’t connected
To where we were.
Want to hear about my failures?
Happy Hour
I forgot one of my best tricks. Ask for coffee with a shot of Jameson on the side. That gets you two Irish coffees for the price of one. The ratio might be a bit off at first but you get used to it. Just like the taste of cheap beer. It’s not what you want but quantity outranks quality when you are killing time. I have nowhere else to go. Can’t even afford the cover at shows I want to support. The cheapest way to deal with it is get loaded during happy hour and play video games all night. Continue reading Happy Hour
Crazy Talk
I’m legit crazy. I’ve taken Prozac for the past two and half years to combat my ailment. I have another drug I take to keep my mood level because I’m not bipolar but still have self-destructive mania if I can’t keep it together. My hope is to find regular employment and be self-sufficient. This feels so impossible I’ve started self-identifying as disabled on my job applications. It only seems fair to warn them about my crazy. Continue reading Crazy Talk