baby dust

baby dust…

just a sprinkle’

will do me as we fall longingly into’

lust.

this baby dust ,

this baby dust,

this rusty fallopian tube.

a spoon,

a plate and a dish.

your forking me again.

sex is our dirty little –

married secret.

what now?

what else?

pregnancy, childbirth, labor-

the erosion of moments

the erosion of memories.

if i recall how badly,

this will be hurting me,

i will never do it again.

baby dust.

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baby dust

Alone with the lonely

wpid-img_20150601_085934.jpg           ALONE WITH THE LONELY-

BY eMILY h. cATO

aLONE WITH THE lONELY

SOMEBODY PLEASE HOLD ME.. JUST FOR A MINUTE… I REALLY NEED A HUG.

LOVE IS A HORRIBLE HORRID DRUG.

ONCE YOUR HUGH YOU ONLY WANT TO GET HIGHER-

ofF THE roLLERcOASTER OF DESIRE

yOU WOLD DO ANYTHING FOR THAT SEXY SMILE KISS OR WHATEVER

AT LEAST FOR A WHILE.

aBUSE STARTS OFF SMALL IN BABY STEPS.

fIRST HE MANIPULATES YOU AND LIES TO YOU ALL OF THE TIME~

THEN HE STARTS TO REQUEST THAT YOU WAIT ON HIM HAND AND FOOT HE SAYS YOU DO IT CUZ YOU LOVE HIM, BUT YOU CAN TELL HE CAN EASILY GET THESE THINGS HIMSELF- A POP FROM THE KITCHEN OR A BEER FROM A FRIDGE.

nEXT HE STARTS TELLING YOU YOU ARE WRONG ABOUT EVERYTHING. aND TO STOP PICKING FIGHTS WITH HIM CUZ HE IS RIGHT ABOUT EVERYTHING all of the damn time too EVERYTHING!

NEXT HE HATES ALL YOUR FRIENDS AND FAMILY AND NICPICKS THEM TO PIECES WHEN THEY ARE NOT AROUND-JUST TO BE A JACKASS BUT YOU BETTER NOT SAY ANYTHING ABOUT HIS FAMILY CUZ BLOOD IS THICKER THEN THIN WATER!

sOONER THAN LATER HE STARTS TO HIT YOU. FOR ME IT TOOK FIVE SUCH ATTACKS GETTING MUCH AND MUCH MORE VIOLENT AND FREQUENT OVER THE PAST 15 YRS. hE WAS AN EXPERT AT GASLIGHTING ME. hE BLAMED ALL MY ISSUES ON PARANOIA AND INSANTY.

wELL NOW WHAT? OBVIOUSLY I NEED MORE THERAPY. BECAUSE NOW I AM A VICTIM ALL OVER AGAIN- A SAINT AND A SINNER ALL ROLLED INTO ONE. aND THE TWO THINGS I DO NOT BELIEVE IN MOST ARE SUICIDE AND MURDER.sO I REFUSE TO KEEP KILLING MYSELF FOR HIM AND I REFUSE TO ALLOW HIM TO SNUFF ME OUT. IF THAT SOUNDS PARANOID FINE YOU GO LIVE THERE WITH MY CRAZYY ASS HUBBY AND HIS DUMB BIG ENMESHED FAMILY.

Alone with the lonely

how stupid can you be?

how stupid can you be i ask myself quietly inside?

i knew all along the real family drama was the alcoholism and the beatings. Why did i let them blame it all of me?

i still let them. now as if waking up from a 15 yr dream i realize it was only a dream in my minds eye. My hubby treated me much the same way my father always did with constant disrespect, intimidation, anger and fear.

I think when your a small female you interpret these things differently. you see your mom trying to calm down your dad and you think woman must do that than calm men down, save men, rescue men.

is it not wonder after 11 yrs of dating and four of marriage that this last assult by far the most violent would convince me to end this marriage.

trust me- i want my crazy stickers back, better to be born crazy dumb and stupid then to choose to remain a victim in the center of an abusive circle, because then you choose tht damned circle, you were not born different just treated different always less than never good enough.

how stupid can you be?

What is the lesson?

I’ve done all the equation s fractions and mathematics.  I still have no answers to this lesson.

Why would anybody stalk some poor mentally ill american woman s blog for six months**::???

Then email her like crazy for 30 days. Just to finally show her some cute videos of his hotter irish next door neighbor?? Then trick her into thinking she’s the one in love with him? Then make tons of fake false promises he will never keep and have the nerve to get on the wrong goddamed airplane.??

And claim to be only 23 years old? Why? Why? Why?

Why is god, goddess personally giving me a huge mind fuck. It isn’t very nice or proper.

Do i look like a conquest? A prize? Something to be won in a game of strip poker?

What gives? Why pick me??? What good or bad thing have i ever done for such treacherous behaviors??

I bet he lied about everything. I bet he doesn’t know any other emilies. I bet he doesn’t even read my blog.

I’ve done the math. The numerology is just really whacked off and angry right now.i cannot figure out this lesson.

What is the lesson?

The man who peeked at me…

There is a man
Who peeked at me~ over my shoulder
Through dreams and simple complex
Reams of poetry.
He felt as though i were merely
An open book
That simply by searching and stumbling
He could peek in over my shoulder,
Like only an Angel or a rouge Devil could.

What could i do?
How could i push him away?
Although i may have made efforts
To push him away, all his flattery
Sunk deep down into my
Broken down beaten down lonely
Failed wife s head.

I couldn’t help but draw him
Closer. Once i made that vast ocean
Oblique i felt silly again,
Like a school girl gone cheap.

I made up stories and lies,
But we both knew i was lying.
I was explaining in depth, why love
Never rings true for me,,.
That i don’t expect it too ~

That i actually had given up
Belief so long ago
That wicked treasure map was
Burned down many years before.

But this was no other ordinary man.
This was the one who peeked over
My shoulder* **~
He dared me, to simply be me.

How could he do that to me?
Was he shark like swimming
Upon my sea of poetry~ did
He smell the blood in my writings?

Did he notice the lonely and empty,
Look in my stare,
Did he notice exactly entirely,
How much, i did not care…?!

Did he spring his hunters trap
To trick me with thievery so cunning
I had no idea how much id been robbed
Until i woke up this morning,

Happy to think
Of a secret stranger.
That dreams dwell not only
In my mind but broken down
Defenseless heart as well.

That somehow rather wickedly,
He smitten me.
And now i am laughing inside all over again. He beat me fairly at my own game of always making them
Want more.

He refused to believe me,
As i swore and sighed
Claiming love was neither true nor
Real not for normal folks
Like he and I.

Even as i sensed this lie
Was a cruel joke to him
He sent me heart spinning and reeling,
With a splendid question,

He only asked me
Why?

I think he knew
He had me over the rails by then.
Even I couldn’t give an half hearted
Half earnest reason Why?
All the things i clearly believed in*

True Love, destiny, karma,
Hope, faith and mystery
How all these things were overrated,
Impossible and definitely Unreal.

He asked me what was my lesson then?
That Love was Unreal?
How tempting to lie some more..
But i was on a web cam video.

And i was staring into these
Most fasincinating eyes of his,
And my lies froze up in my throat
I think i might have began to choke.

As i realized the vast error of my ways.
To denounce love
As rust. Or as impossible for folks like us. And as i was speaking his gaze
Was depleting my energy to keep denying that i did not care really
About love or lies or men.

I was so immune to all of that.
I was positively sure.
But i had left the door of my heart
Ajar, opened just by the smallest
Crack. And somehow, this young man
Had jumped inside.

I think ive been smitten and fooled
And stolen from.
I think it must be fraud. Someone trying to steal my identity.
For when i woke up my broken heart was gone and a mysterious note was there instead. Gone today, be back yesterday. See you soon.

The man who peeked at me…

I’m not crazy

I’m not crazy-anymore.

at least not lately…

somebody caught me telling one too many lies,

begging the Universe for more Rekii.

I try so hard-

to be the daughter they said they wanted.

To be the scapegoat, the problem child, the real reason

everything always falls apart.

I try so hard to be the weak and crazy one,

that i become almost nearly halfway undone.

i start believing it all myself too.

i start hoping and wishing it were true.

i would be anything in the world for you

but I can no longer pretend

to be manic depressive for you.

I had a good run.

24 years of playing the freak show-

24 years of running away, hiding my smarts, pretending

that my acting all, of it out, all of my acting

it was for Art.

I tried to tell my side of the story-

but nobody would listen-

how everything was always my fault.

My middle name is really trouble or perhaps

just Hell en.

I tried to live up to every fucked up

accusation of insanity that they could accuse me of.

All I ever wanted was

my Daddys love.

But it came with a steep price tag-

I had to always be in trouble, or broken, or crazy.

I never could just be me.

I could never just be Emily.

When all the pill boxes are empty and all the booze runs dry,

when my tears no longer run free

and there is no one left to

torment me.

What do I do then?

If a thief in the heart of the night,

broke in and stole away my insanity

what happens now?

I don’t know how to fit in.

It’s awkward-in fact I never even try to fit in

my puzzle pieces are almost always turned wrong way

upside down.

I’m not crazy.

But if it makes you feel any better-

I totally know how to appear to be.

Dedicated to my father Robert..  

I’m not crazy