melissaahowells
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******************************* she eats until she cannot or refuses to eat at all and buys clothes for imaginary friends to appreciate but there's nowhere to go the ringer doesn't call he hides in the smoke rings and the fog of the alcohol until he can't see his way through they react to create the big reaction until their nerves snap raw and bruised they're addicted and conflicted we're the maneuvered and the dis-abused she cuts to see where her feelings come from mostly sleeps while others are awake her dirtier demons dance and malinger with her thoughts offering her evil instead of cake he speaks like a locomotive like a train leaving the tracks his words roar building steam clouds til the pressure cooker explodes she can't hide in her bright make-up she has conversations with her troubled mind her thoughts wriggling on a hook no self-preservation for the blind how can we be freed how can we be cured how can we be satisfied when there's no solution when we must endure not the pills nor the prescriptions not the talking cure nor those added drinks on the house she's the weak of will he's the louse what if there was no more resentment and anger to conjure up what if this was no longer this unending divine comedy what if Mother/Father turned the light out un-rang the fight bells decided to be quieter and on some semblance of serenity the dreams are lost on by the cowering children their wishes for another life another family or perhaps an orphanage where there'd be a little more peace no longer mauled by the insanity's outside of them but nurtured as children who can sleep securely nestled in their beds why do adult children often sleep with their light on and startle when the hear the front door creak the passage of the decades doesn't drown the drone of Mother/Father's ugly tones that kept them up anxiously nightly until the stars tip-toed away so the night would end the light would come and blanket them with relief. ************************************************************ LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS POEM WRITTEN DIRECTLY TO THE PAGE 1:27 AM....11/6/2022 TIME AND DATE STAMPED AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY REGISTERED AND COPY-WRITTEN POETRY SITE MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD. ************************************************* THIS IS NOT A HAPPY POEM. ITS AN HONEST ONE. TAKE WHAT YOU WANT, LEAVE THE REST. KNOW THAT THE CHILDREN ARE STILL OUT THERE, EVEN THOUGH THEY LOOK LIKE THE REST OF US. RE-EDITED FOR CLARITY OF METAPHOR AND THOUGHT JANUARY 9 2023 4:19PM TIME AND DATE STAMPED LEGAL COPYRIGHT FOR THIS RE-EDITING. MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD./ RE-EDITED AGAIN FOR CLARITY OF METAPHOR AND THOUGHT AS THIS NEEDS TO BE TO THE BONE TO BE ACCURATE JANUARY 10 2023/ 1:37PM PACIFIC STANDARD TIME AND ALSO FOR THIS WRITER MELISSA A. HOWELLS AND ALSO FOR THIS LEGALLY COPYRIGHTED AND REGISTERED SITE TITLE MELOO STRAIGHT FROM HER TILT-A-WORLD. Vote for this poem |
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