The Constant Sound of Water

The constant sound of water distracts me from moving forward

I am in trapped in the mud created by the ceaseless downpour that comes from our relationship

Or, has it been brewing internally for more years than I can recall

Paralyzed by thoughts that won’t leave me alone, monsters that hide in the corners of my mind

A tortured soul inside of a fake smile that I wear like a cape

The endless sound of water is deafening and more often than not, I am grateful for the noise that distracts

Petrified of today

Regretting yesterday 

Crippled by tomorrow 


No Footing – Again!

I allowed myself to be bullied into taking you back

Now –

How the hell did I lose my footing and allow the rocks below my feet to crumble?

How do I return you? 

Nothing has changed, nor will it ever. 

But – 

I was strong for a moment.

A brief glimpse into the possibilities has left me bitter.

The words that come to my tongue are bitter to the mouth and ear.

Yet –

I speak my truth to those who have learned that I am weak

My reality, my strength, has been stolen because they’ve bullied it all away.

Check the Internet, look up in the sky…

My weakness has been written


Exactly FIVE years ago my father told me (without words), that he was ready to die. He was no longer able to speak but his eyes told me the entire story.

And my heart broke wide open

It would only take FOURTEEN days before his body would succumb to his wishes. 

It is FIVE years later and I am still unable to set him free. 

To let him go and set myself free. I continue to punish myself for not being God. 

For not being able to save him. 

Who the hell do I think that I am?  He was my whole life despite my “family and friends“. His evil wife worked against me every step of the way. 

The ONLY person; my sister, she walked off of a rooftop just over TWO years ago. 

No, I couldn’t save her either. 

Another failure. 

No good deed goes unpunished. 

Day 1 of therapy:  “I will NEVER get over the death of my father“. 

Dr. Freud looked at me and promised to help me. 

FOUR years later, he believes me; I will never get over his death. 

His diagnosis:  I have PTSD

I HAVE LOST TOO MUCH and my heart is eternally broken. 

Come back, please!


Dearest Aidan

Speaking in Riddles

• I spoke to Rose Kennedy; let her know that her eldest Joseph Patrick AKA: JP (died during the war – remains never recovered, very sad – but I digress) was no longer making his fictions spouse happy & that the poor dear girl wanted to take Rover and flee.

• Rose, being of odd allegiances, gave the advice that she should have given Teddy’s wife before she began drinking the rubbing alcohol in the house. “Go!”

• When JP was confronted, he took his boat straight to the River Nile. Lovely weather this time of year and wasn’t Liz Taylor gorgeous with violet eyes?

• Promises of change have ensued; people do not change, time changes. Weather changes, fashion changes and if you are lucky; situations change.

• Can JP change with Rose riding him like the Black Stallion?  (See Dr. Freud please!)

• Certainly Rose is unaware of the platonic nature of JP’s non-relationship. 
   • Alas, that must be me. All in favor?  
   • Who would want a woman such as me?  Perhaps I’m far too Virginia Woolf. Your thoughts?  For real. 

That is where things stand in the world of insanity and birthday parties. 

Please share your world with me, only if you choose

If you’d prefer I’d disappear like pixie dust; consider it done. 

Otherwise, I await your response. 

REMEMBER:  you pinkie swore 🌻