Category Archives: mur

RE:ality

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

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

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

Cancerous

Walking around in public,
Struggling to keep it together.
A massive burden I’m carrying
around like it’s not there.
Parading invisibly naked,
as if I’m a regular human.
Knowling I’m going to die.
The perspective of a statistic.
Never seen and rarely heard
Fulfilling destiny has never
Been so boring.

Smiles and handshakes.
Nice to meet yous and
This one’s on me.
Where are you from?
What do you do?
How long does it take
To get into your pants?
Depends on the path
And when it’s taken.
Or what I’m drinking.

I know two ways to relax.
Either have a good time
and forget about your worries.
Or sit alone and brood
Going over every layer
Personal deficiencies
Emotional insecurities
Awkward personalities.
Lay them all out straightOne atop the other
A neat stack of issues
Laid out on your bed.
Then
Sleep on the couch