Cauliflower Grief

Bits and pieces of my thoughts and feelings over the past few weeks.

My face rolled into disgust and pain
His face a tomato red.
‘May god strike me dead’ he says
The bubble I am in, too hard to break
This life that I have led, these thoughts
That go around in my head-
So stupid I can’t really even
Begin to understand them.

Is there an easy way to end it?
Can I just go home, to cry, to bed? I’m calling for someone to come
And take me away on a white horse-
Defeated,
‘Help me survive until the next day, Lord, help me to overcome the pain.

Water is running between my legs,
I shower and
Try to relax. The argument is being washed back
Into the crevices of time. Sigh . . .

Lack of insight
Is all I can think it can
Provide me.
Broken lines of barren, wasted, frozen words,
Floating into the air like Blocks of chunky, moldy cheese curds.
When he looks at me he sees a
Globulous piece of flesh, not the tired, careworn
Hands full of rough, labored woman carried by
Those rough demands.
A person who’s done so much to help protect the
love that’s being torn asunder, by the
Lies that are under the
Covers.

I walk along the Fort Pitt bridge
Memories coming back to assault-
Me. The smell of vinegar in the bath
People with funny eyebrows, Advil, scattered along the
Rug, bottles that are broken into
life, coming back to me like
broken pieces, bits of toilet paper from a
Roll that’s not created
even.
A film that’s without vision. Nothing but a sordid track
Of Random images . . . in my dread, that flash their gleaming , solid orbits,
Their winking, friendly type of eyes, shining out from
Little ghostly bodies. Happy and familiar, wispy hands
And misty silhouettes, calling out to me with
Childish innocence, which has . . .
Made a friend. And then they turn . .
demonic.
Thoughts and feelings, now becoming Satan’s cronies. The faces and the arms, entangling themselves, until there is
Nothing but an empty, black hole in timeless . . . nothingness. It comes closer and closer to me, until it
Swallows up my brain.
There is nothing but silence,
A dark, and oh so hateful
quiet. I continue to walk
And talk to myself, moving in circles, not going either
Forwards nor back. On the outside I must
Look a fright, as traffic on the bridge
Should pass beside. Behind the safety of the
Rising metal
divide, holding up the bridge and keeping me from
danger,
I am locked inside of a
Black hole, that no one else can man,
where I must
Hide myself away, and life is so much more
A needle in the hay.

I can feel the lines in my face, when they begin
To drop, the bubble of life oozing out beneath
my woebegone distaste. The health and vital beat
The beauty of the past, the world of future’s magic
falling to the ground below me like
A disconnected strand.

Back to present, and rejecting the
love that
gave me purchase. The feeling of cold, decisive madness,
leaks into the air between-
Up, and around, and out . .
Between the lines of
Lover’s hate.

I want to reach out for a hug and close the distance
But I stop myself, a foot away from his embrace, and then envelop myself
in a blanket of my own, and just admission,
trying to comfort my soul,
In the quiet omission, of what was
Taken, after he opened my heart and stole its
living beat, leaving there inside an
empty heat.

Bits and pieces of my past
Returning, with the arrival of a song
That flows, from out my lips and into the
tender night, the ghost of a love that is but
Lost in time. Over the hills and cattle
Wild, wind running through my hair as I lean,
my head against the misted window. I start to sing a song of
long forgotten passion, my eyes catching on the reflection
Of the quiet, silver moon. I feel my soul reach towards it, my inner person ache-
To kiss the vortex.
Right out of the misted window pane. And then my hooded eyes look down upon what
Seems to be a dying soul. Is it . . . mine- ?

I can’t seem to think, and my
Hands are shaking with a
torrential wave of deep
emotion underway. I am completely, utterly alone, broken, sad and prone,
Petrified with icy cold. I am rooted to the spot
I cannot move- I steel myself for battle,
Underneath a
glowing, mountain halo. Square my shoulders, and tell myself to sit
And bear the coming battle. A fight that no one else can
See, is rising from the skyline . . .
After me.

Cauliflower grief
What’s going on in my head?
No one else can seem to understand A big head of cauliflower gets in the way . . .
So many different angles. So many different sides. Thoughts, thoughts, and feelings that bloom out
like little clouds of nothing, and break away, at the chunky
Middle

I turn away from him, as the tears
begin to fall. Caught within the blooming structure, of the
Labyrinth of cauliflower. Can my lover and forever
Partner, learn to be the person that
Comes to save, instead of one that strikes the flame
To a madness, that lets the fire in me
Rage?