Discussion in 'Poet's Corner' started by BelovedDreamer, Dec 30, 2006.

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  1. BelovedDreamer

    BelovedDreamer Well-Known Member

    Secret fears
    aren’t we all full of them?
    filled to the brim
    and stuffed to overflowing?
    I fear that she hates me
    for being like my father.
    I am afraid that I hate her
    for marrying my father
    for making me exist.
    She chose to marry a fixer-upper
    but a husband is not a house
    and a child does not come
    with replaceable parts.
    blood does out.
    I fear that the day I say
    “Mama, I’m gay”
    She’ll get that same
    martyred look on her face
    the look that passed over
    and sunk in so deep
    the day I said
    “Mama, I’ve decided…”
    and swallowed what I was told
    and lost myself
    (another secret—
    I fear For Good)
    as she had waited years to find
    that I was my father’s daughter
    crazy like sin
    and angry as
    and old testament G-d.
    I’m so afraid
    afraid that I burnt all my bridges
    and there’s no going back.
    I’m frightened
    that someday I’ll walk round a corner
    and see a particular
    Ghost of Breakdown Past
    coming around the other side
    —or that I never will
    and I won’t ever get the chance to say
    I’m sorry
    or ask the questions
    that might fill in the blanks
    of this Swiss cheese psyche
    I’ve left myself.
    Somedays I fear
    that I’ll never wake-up
    out of this stupor that I’m in
    a mental automaton
    a pill-bottle zombie.
    Other days
    I just want to curl up in a ball
    take a vow of silence
    —like the kid in that movie
    I liked so much—
    and never have to say
    anything again.
    I crave
    above just about anything else
    someone to talk to
    who is as real
    and as “there” as people ever are
    who might understand
    as well as people ever can
    what it feel likes
    to feel like this
    to die slowly like this
    in a self-inflicted mental stranglehold
    to grieve for existential things
    or small realities that move you deeply
    or small cruelties or inequities
    that cut you to that heart of sleeping anger
    volatile as it laps so gently
    against your restless insides
    that’s all I ever wanted
    in the first place.
    Maybe it was too much.
  2. theleastofthese

    theleastofthese SF Friend Staff Alumni

    :eek:hmy: :eek:hmy: :eek:hmy: :eek:hmy: :eek:hmy:

    How do you do it?:blink: Time after time so perfectly and sorrowfully. I admire your talent:smile: but hate the feelings:sad: let out in this talent. I wish I could ease the pain.:sad:

    love and hugs,


    if it's any comfort, I like you just as you are.:smile:
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