You are currently browsing the monthly archive for January 2012.

I was status quo
I was well & good
until a word

Came from his lips
As a single word instead of the usual three

The doctors might as well confirm for clinical analysis what I’ve always known

I’ll be the death of me

Will this be the year you die

I only ask

So I can plan ahead

To be inconvenienced



who would choose the fate of fire
the apathy of plunge
blade for blood

in the face of death
some of us shine
as if destruction was our calling
in life

I had a wet dream last night
I woke up with a little slobber on my face & pillow
I had a good girl’s dirty dream
I dreamt of deep kisses and attraction
Not the s-e-x (I’m a virgin you know)
But the satisfaction of wanting more,
that’s the xxx I want

Tonight I break my silence. This is my open letter to you.

You will always be remembered as a vapor
the heat-wet rising to fog the mirrors,
blurring distinction:
When I looked at myself in the mirror, I saw you, too.

But that’s not true
I saw a mirage and what I wanted to see
Last I looked I saw nothing ajar, nothing amiss.

Sentimentality is lost on the broken-hearted.
You fog me no more.

A few years later
I’m ready to revisit
the statement I made
years earlier

People with January 2nd birthdays die and I do not fear for their deaths.

Truth is
people with January 2nd birthdays

the blank eye of the black dog has me in its crossways gaze

Winston Churchill referred to his recurring bouts with depression as his “black dog.”

I don’t think I’m depressed. But is that what the black dog wants me think?

I don’t think I’m depressed; I’m just boring.

We should all follow sage advice and here it is: A dear friend said via Facebook today that she was going to make 2012 her bitch. Friends, let’s do the same. Take whatever gripes you’ve got, give them a last look, and throw them out like weeds. They aint the bitch of you and they’ll just have to get on.

SOB with me

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