Broken Reality

Broken
battered
left on the side of the road
left to die 
without anyone to hold.
Grim reality
scattered dreams
heroin needle
still stuck in the vein.
Star struck
beautiful girl
ventures to the land of sin 
deceived
degraded 
by the one who made her whole.
Within her soul
a blackness grew
as night after night
aspirations drowned
vile glass 
after vile glass 
men worked to take her down.
Her life 
her desires
when they touch her
vacant eyes staring 
above heaving shoulders.
Visions of escape
ideas
flew from her mind
only the call of the needle
could sate growing hunger
eating her from the inside.
Broken
battered
left to die
slowly tears gather in her eyes.
Visions of parents
a home left behind
fade to black
as the grim reaper
reaps her soul.
January 28/19
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Next Fix

Dreams scattered
shot up
carved away
lies told
to starve the pain.
Litter in an alley
sodden
soaked
in cheap liquor
inadequate
to subdue shrill shrieks of
defeat.
Dozens of men.
No longer do they
fall at her feet.
They throw dollar bills
degrade
debase
earn enough
to buy that next feed.
Hunger like an animal
clawing internal
spiraling through skin
til creepy crawlies
snake their way out.
Felt all over her body.
Gaunt
destroyed
hollow eyes stare out the window
slack mouth
sightless
only desire…..
her next fix.
December 21/18

Untitled Poem #4

Pacing
nails bitten to the quick
waiting
dreading
the words that he will speak.
Heart is racing
can feel the blood in my ears
pounding in my head
I am dizzy
I am aware
I am afraid.
Though I have been flippant
making jokes
deflecting questions
with questions of my own
I have cried
I have screamed
I know that I did this to myself.
Years and years
of abuse
of pills
of anything that would numb
it had to catch up to me eventually.
Truth be told
today is the day
when finally I can admit
to more tears
to more fears
than jokes
and quick witted remarks.
Nov. 5/18
Photo by Anthony Tran on Unsplash

Mask Be Gone

Today will be another 2 post day but I will leave the second one for later on. It is a fun filled one about T and me last night.
I need to give credit where credit is due with regards to the posts where I have a lightening strikes moment and insight happens.  All of them, at the very least 99.9% of the time they evolve out of conversations that I am having with friends. They will make a statement or ask a question and suddenly boom there it is. And I talk it out with whomever I am talking to at the moment. The vast majority of them are broken down between two people of whom K is one of.
Today she is going to make cold calls for the company that she is working for. Dropping off flyers/information packets at the business around the area. When in the office for the most part she can go casual. Today though, she was not sure if it would be okay to wear casual or make a better impression if she dressed up. What did I think. And I thought about it.
Sales Person=Professional look=suits/slacks w/dress shirt for men. Pantyhose/skirt/slip/blouse/dress pants/blazer/dress/heels/flats/purse
for women. Damn uncomfortable being dressed up like that all the time. I have done it in the past and best place I have ever worked was for a company that was in production. I was in Customer Service but could handle this because I dealt with the salesmen not actual customers and I  could wear jeans and sweatshrits to work. I was in my glory. (To be honest the first day I started I wore dress pants in and was told I was dressed up too much.)
I explained that that was my definition of a sales person’s dressware and K agreed. She is going to throw her flair into it though and come out looking awesome. I began to think though as we are talking about what facades we put on. We are programmed to think and feel about certain people and careers solely based on how they are dressed.
Ex: A meeting is taking place between 2 competitors with a company. Person A arrives for the meeting casually dressed because he/she knows that the product they are selling is exactly what the companny requires and at a fraction of the cost even with a few bells and whistles thrown in of their competitor. Person B arrives for the meeting in business attire. Their product essentially the same as Person A’s but with extras that the company does not need nor will they ever use. And it costs triple the price. In the end despite the fact that Person A’s product is what they need for a great cost the company choses to go with Person B.
We immediately disregard people if they do not fulfill our preconcieved notions of how they should look. How does one know that the lawyer who wears jeans and tee shirts to the office did not graduate at the top of his law class while the lawyer in the $1000 suits who charges hourly did not? We give so much creedence to how we present ourselves to the world, that we forget who we are.
At work I have a facade. Chipper. Always happy. Smile on my face. Flying around here there and everywhere. Stopping to talk to people. Helping customers find what they need. This is the face that I wear day in and day out, 40 hours a week whether or not I feel like it.
Before Dec. 23rd, my entire being was a facade. I smiled and pretended I was happy. I laughed and talked and tried to be the world’s best problem solver. As I type this I recalled a moment just before that saturday which made me realize how much my facade was me.
I had been helping a customer and chatting away with them. When done I went over to another till to bag for one of my cashiers and her customer. All of us are chatting away and both of them mention that I am always happy. My mask slipped for a brief moment when I admitted that I was not really 100% me. And both of them told me that they never would have known. That I certainly did not show that things were not quite right.
Maybe if I had not been so intent on presenting myself as a strong and capable woman who required no assistance someone might have noticed a little earlier as the cracks began to appear. Maybe if I had been willing to be truthful with myself, I could have, no there is no could have. My facade had become me. I had become my facade.
Now I can look in the mirror and see me. This morning after I put cream on my face and set my glasses on my nose I took a really good look at myself in the mirror. And I saw me. The real me. The one who’s eyes are sparkling, clear, not fogged and drug numbed. I no longer look haggard and tired. I am still sleeping the same but again, there are no drugs at play deadening my sleep. I feel good. My hair is not looking brittle and ready to crack. Nor is it falling out in handfuls any longer. My skin is clearer and smoother as well.
There is another part of me that fell beneath the illusion of my facade and the role I was playing. That was my brain. My brain has been fooled and stupified and drug numbed for so many years I am damn surprised that it still functions. But it is there. With ideas and knowledge and truths that I fought to hide from for so long. I am open to the changes that are tearing down the ugliness that I wore to fool the world and replacing it with me. The real me.
I began thinking this was going to be a random reflection based on what K and me were talking about. Instead it opened my eyes further to the changes that I have wrought both inside and out. I am not going to wear masks any longer. What you see is who I am. I want to be accepted for the person that I am, not the person that society expects me to present to the world at large.