Thank You, Todd

…and the elderly woman sat, in the newly transformed hospital room. She could feel the terrible ache from her bones, beneath the swelling of her tissue paper skin. And, for just a moment, (and only inside her head), she thought about taking the next ritual offering of pain medication from the nurses on shift. They made it seem so…delicious-but, unless it was a bottle of whiskey; she wouldn’t know. (It wouldn’t be too much longer–). Still, she wouldnt break. A vow, a promise-to herself, with her integrity and personal dignation, hanging in the balance…no, she wouldn’t take them. She had very strong opinions about drugs; prescribed or not…..if she could only remember what those opinions were. Or, who she was for that matter. All this wondering made her tired. Perhaps she would turn to that deity she occasionally resorted to… if she could just remember his name. It might be Sunday today; there was a sign, outside her door, about a resident chapel.

Perhaps she would attend; a prayer might sway his decision to ease her suffering….(“What was his name?”)…(and how did that little ditty go?) Chapel or not, she decided to give it a try;

“Dear Todd; Theo, Art and Kevin-give us, this day…some bread. (And if you could toast it, with some nice butter and jam-well, I would like that very much)………..Hy-Men”

fin

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The Weak Link

                                       Part I

There is a dank, and terrible place-

(That used to be my heart).

Hollow, and without (even) a

sliver…of light, it’s 

abandonment screams (to my 

body), without effort. 

In darkness-its cold. 

The moisture it holds, (is 

uncomfortable), and 

I feel something, 

slithering.

(It’s resident horror-show 

secrets; abundant), are as 

numerous as the words, 

I will never hold back.
                                       

                                        fin 

                     

                               

Stay

  

I’m sorry.

I’m sorry if your dad left you.

I’m sorry if your dad hit you.

I’m sorry if your dad passed away.

I’m sorry if your mom left you.

I’m sorry if your mom hit you, or got hit by your dad.

I’m sorry if your mom passed away.

I’m sorry if you get bullied.

I’m sorry if you cut your wrists.

I’m sorry if you can never sleep at night.

I’m sorry if you throw up after you eat, because you don’t want to gain weight.

I’m sorry if you cry in your room for hours.

I’m sorry if you get called a faggot for being gay.

I’m sorry if you get called a tranny or a girl, if you identify as a male.

I’m sorry if you get called a boy, if you identify as a female.

I’m sorry if you feel like both genders, and get told it doesn’t exist.

I’m sorry if you identify as a gender, and get told you are confused.

I’m sorry if your boyfriend or girlfriend hits you.

I’m sorry if you feel like your not good enough.

I’m sorry if someone broke your heart.

I’m sorry if you got cheated on.

I’m sorry if your in foster care.

I’m sorry if your homeless.

I’m sorry if you would rather be homeless, because being at home is torture.

  

I’m sorry if you rake your nails down your arms.
I’m sorry if you feel like nobody cares.

I’m sorry if you feel invisible.

I’m sorry if you feel you won’t be as “pretty”, or “handsome”, as someone else. But guess what? You are beautiful.

I’m sorry if you don’t want to be saved.

I’m sorry if you do want to be saved, but nobody is around to help you.

I’m sorry if you lost a loved one.

I’m sorry if your brother or sister has a mental illness.

I’m sorry if I’ve hurt you.

I’m sorry if you’ve been sexually harassed.

I’m sorry I’ve not always been there when you needed me.

I’m sorry if you have to sell drugs or do them, because you hate reality.

I’m sorry for all the pain you kept inside for so long.

I’m sorry if your heart is broken.

I’m sorry if you feel this way.

  

But I know that with everything that is going wrong, one day it will go right.
I care about you. I want to give my all to show you how worth it you are.

I want you to live. I want you to fight this, I need you here.

All your pain is something that probably followed you everywhere.

I know things are hard, and nobody understands what you’re going through.

You fake a smile, but I can see it.

You think you’re unloved, but I love you so much. I promise you’re loved.

If you think it’s time for you to go, it’s honestly not, this isn’t worth it.

I know you want to die, nobody would miss you right? Those thoughts are a lie, those demons in your head are lying to you. All those people telling you to kill yourself arn’t there when you need a hug, they arn’t there when you’re punching walls.

They assume you won’t do anything, they arn’t there when you’re breaking down and crying, but I promise you’ll feel better soon. Don’t do this.

Don’t leave me.

I need you.

You’re worth it. I know enough.

I love you.

I’m always just a message or call away.

Stay strong.

  

This poem was written by Jaemi Manning, and Dillon Chase.

          __________________________    

Ode to Lost Children…

This is my life…and it

is rotten. It is flawed.

I am too often exhausted, 

by overthinking, and dark days-

very poor judgement calls, and

vanity, to abasement. 

There is always a reason, for 

my binges, blackouts, and 

magnificent stupidity; (it

is very likely), the profound

and hateful futility (of it all).

If there were more than 

just my wasted life-

(hanging in the balance)…

It would be a cataclysm-

(especially for those 

swaggering douchebags, who 

will never, 

         ever 

               quit…)

I miss my kids. (The 

world stopped turning, a

long 

     time

          ago).
                    

                     fin 

 

“HOOKER SLAIN, IN DEAD PROSTITUTES FIELD”

Slip away,

whore-

fall lifeless (again),

to the frozen,

anonymous

ground-

that was

(seeded and plowed) with

YOU’RE A STATISTIC.

‘more

than you

should be’,

L-A-S-C-I-V-I-O-U-S

bitch;

(‘…Me!

It was Me!’),

‘I made

you

famous’

(‘…Me!

It was Me!)

(“and I don’t think

I mentioned, that…’

“THIS IS GONNA

HURT,

like HELL”

fin

R.I.P.

for all the girls; friends, faces, and all the rest (that never had the chance for self worth, friendship,

love, change, hope or life).