She opened the door and Pandoras Box flew in. Doorbell rang. Evil answered. Violence ensued. Death severed all Love ties.
SHE COVET HER…………….
SHE WERE A SMOKESTACK DAYWALKER FALSE TO HER BONES. STORM SURGE. RETURN HURRICANES TORNADOES TSUNAMI……..
July 10, 1974
Story of Ten
Was it her fault? She was only ten. How could she know? But guilt and shame will follow to the grave. Woman said that She was Mommas friend. Or so she said. Friend is a term of convenience loosely translated.
Ten ran to get help but it was already too late. As it usually is. But eventually Ten grew up and became Twenty.
Enter into the darkness allowing it to enter your immortal mind. Feed your Night Terrors.
Future Mothers day Journeys take on New meaning.
Lightning Saber. Growth Shifter.
Found her as an abandoned forgotten kitten cub alone in the Forest. Fed her. Housed Her. Trained Her. Loved Her well. Tiny Sleek Glossy Obsidian terror.
Loyalty to a fault.
Lightning Saber was a not so Secret gift from the Really Really Old Old Man with six toes on each foot.
Long ago it was predicted that our enemies would be destroyed by Light aka Lightning. She wields the Saber of Judgment and death.
The Really Really Old Old Man was suckled by the bare breasted boy Tree. An Arboreal species gifted with both sap secreting mammary glands along with testicular organs with the ability to produce seeds. Thus enacting the process of Self pollination.
Howlin’ Wolf
Twenty grew strong from military service. Twenty grew bold gaining courage from years of abuse. Twenty learned to Never back down.
Twenty laid Her trap well lacing it with sweetness and light. Gladly entering the spider’s web excited with a sense of her own importance. Getting stuck was pure Joy.
Deviousfemale took the bait while sharp Saber took her life.
Firmly cast into the abyss. Murderous soul awakening dead.
Some things are Lost That You don’t Get Back. Thoughts are consumed by memories put on replay. An endless loop of hope filled Happier times.
One always grieves for what and Who is Lost.
Losing yourself is the most deeply felt. Rearranging atoms and molecules.
So many Thoughts went on in Her head as she sat by the empty bed. Sometimes at Night She would lay across his bed not so much for sleep as that had eluded her for weeks, but rather to absorb his scent which was slowly dissolving with passing time.
His bedroom now a divine sacred place where I shower altars with copious tearful offerings.
Fading like dissipated mist. And that bird. Not native to these parts. It first appeared two weeks before his transition. Warbling with all its heart it’s song brought a peace to my suffering child. Eased his pain. Interrupted nonstop seizures.
Comforting my Paradise child through his Souls transition from Time into eternity.
He once terrestrial in the blink of a moment became Celestial.
On the day of the funeral, a Gravesite service entire flocks of various avian species serenaded better than the most skillful singers.
The Groundskeeper
So Many Wrong Doors. Wrong Doors are open while Keys to the correct Doors are Lost.
The Repo man stole Her heart then Her Life. She was found among Laurel and cypress trees.
Ashes to ashes. Dust to Dust. In a daze waiting for someone to wake her up telling Her that it was all a bad Dream. As the Funeral Director guides her through the motions She realizes that this is her New reality.
She is an open wound seeping blood and pus.
Heaven Gains More Angels.
While all Left to She and Her are gravestones marked with Names, birth and death dates. Only Her and She know the story behind the dash.
Yet lately I’ve heard a familiar warbling. A persistent chirp. A persistent breeze turning the spokes of his old bike not ridden in months.
A Vague flash of Angel Wings caressing face engulfing my being with his presence.
Mommy it’s alright now. It’s alright.
I Can Only Imagine by Mercy Me
After Edward Hopper
AM I THE ONLY ONE?
Isolation
Dedicated to Zoey and Cecilia who both lost their disabled children to the Angels of Death.
Screaming for help. Begging for assistance. She remains ignored and abandoned.
Pull yourself up by your own bootstraps yell the Memers, Life coaches and Positivity Pimps. They well knowing that you don’t even have shoes much less laces or straps for pulling. The Positivity Pimps refuse to lend a helping hand. Instead mockingly flinging useless memes and affirmations at you while you sit without sustenance at the bottom of the well.
Soon the Positivity Pimps will pour water into the well call it rope and gleefully watch you drown.
Awkward Twisting Moments in Time
Happiness Engineers take pot shots at ones immobilized being.
Welcome to the Brain Clean Sewer Service System!
Ask for rain and get drought.
Freshly pressed corpses run along the Necropolis racetrack. Carefully Controlled Decay keeps them moving.
Every day is International Panic Day.
One must regress into a Trance state for protection from incineration.
Hideous sounds penetrating fragile flesh. Birds covered in strange smelling ointment peck there way into each individual pore.
Existence is like an ill fitting suit of clothes. Clothing that no longer fits and extremely uncomfortable.
Contortionists.
Souls wandering among the tombstones. No rest allowed. Not even rest in the Grave.
Espiritu en Fuego/A Fiery Spirit 