Bared Teeth

Things that bother me tend to involve teeth.
I hate teeth. It sounds silly and it kind of is,
but there's the hard line.
If I had to choose a short version
it would be that she is scared of
gleaming teeth and vast spaces
in the case of some things,
both of them together.
The vastness of the sea and inherent horror
of things that swim with pointy teeth
make me want to hide in my house forever,
only taking showers occasionally.
In the long run, I think this means that I am afraid of that
inevitable loss of control.
One day you run into somebody or something
you can't win
you can't fight.
And I prefer not to put myself in situations where I can't have a plan.

I am often struck by the fear of cold violent darkness.

variations

My cat knows when I am upset.
I don't think this means she's psychic.
what I mean is
I think that all cats are a little bit off
if you know what I'm talking about
you know
and if you don't
well, sorry then.
But she has sat and guarded me while
I slept the mornings away
and she watches me when I'm in the bathtub
and she gets as close to my back when I work as possible
and occasionally groom whatever is closest to her
as the idea strikes.

She is afraid of thunderstorms.
I only noticed a few weeks ago because it was thundering
and I realized I couldn't find her anywhere.
I searched around, mildly disconcerted as I walked the floors of my home
without tripping over a large aggressively friendly animal
and found her hiding under the table, letting out some
terrifyingly angry growls.
Because I have no dignity or sense of self preservation
I crawled under there and sat with her for a while.
The first time I saw her, it was through a cage door
and it was only her front legs, which she had reached all
the way out of to sink her very sharp claws into my upper shin.
She drew blood.
It was love at first sight.
When you love someone (something?)
you should sit with them when they are in pain
or scared or angry.

In the last few weeks,
my cat Evangeline
(I'm pretty confident that she does not think this is her name.
It alternates between 'darling' and 'you fucking cat'
because I am an asshole)
has done her best to not leave my side, even when the shower is turned on
as hot as it can go and the music is up too loud
she sits and waits.
Once though, she looked at me and her whole body poofed out
her tail looked like it was twice the natural size and
her eyes were huge.
I felt my stomach drop out- I was just shampooing my hair
nothing she hasn't seen me do a million times
and she looked terrified and angry,
like she could see an angry and evil alien wrapped up in my hair
but she held her ground and stayed.
I turned off the music and watched her more closely that evening and
her tail stayed poofy that night.

I worry that she can see my ghosts.
That can't be good for anyone.
But she persists in living her life pressed up against the lines of
my arms and legs and forever trying to steal my iced tea
and carrying around little plastic balls in her mouth
so she jingles when she walks.
She has a stash of straws under my bed.
She doesn't believe in solitary bathroom trips
or that there isn't any space between my lap and laptop.
She insists on sleeping in ALL of the sinks
and in my bed with me if I am in it.
She lets me clip her claws so they don't sink into my flesh
and I feed her and occasionally share my tuna with her.
She's soft as a bunny



you had flowers in your mouth the day I met you
It turns out they were oleanders
not magnolias like I assumed
the poison was masked
by the incessant decadence and I am not omniscient
or really even that observant it turns out.
I promise I would have ripped them out of your mouth
if I had known.
If I had wondered
I would have dragged you to a hospital
watched you throw up and not looked away
for even a moment
told you that you are so beautiful
so fucking vital to the world
and then walked with you until you could take the oleanders out
and replace them with magnolias.

Oleander is common in Texas and California and I worry
about where you found it
but magnolias also grow here
and they are not poisonous.
They are big and hardy and prized for their sweet smell
and are apparently part of the coffee family
which I did not know and I'm sure a fact you would have appreciated
were you here to hear it.

5 Days

I cannot even begin to describe it
how I felt the moment I heard
he's gone.

but you want to know the secret?

in the middle
of the agony and the pain and the rage
is the jealousy.
because other people got to know you more
to love you more and have more of your time
got the choice to be around you or not
they got to know you and see you
be around all the bits all the time

In your defense,
who could have known?
what if you didn't want to be saved?
it was a family legacy.
maybe god has a plan.


I was told my whole life
that there was a man who bled and died for my sins
but in this case there is not enough blood and pain
and tears for me to sacrifice
to bring you back.

It's been almost a whole week
and no one has called to tell me that it was all
a bad dream
a horrible joke
not real.

I'll never get to introduce you to my stupid cat
or show you this new car or how fast it goes
or smoke a cigar with you and ask for your stories
or mess with you about the music
or discuss Dr. Who ad nauseum with you
until everyone yells at us to shut up.

You held my son gently on the first day I saw you
and you waved to me as I walked near you
and you reminded me of my dad and my aunt
I'm sure you were nervous about showing up that day
no one knew you were coming and
I remember how shocked I was that you'd come
You'd called me and wished me love and luck a few days earlier
said you'd gotten the invitation and thanked me.
But you were there and I got to see how
wonderfully loud and gentle our side of the family is.

And I say all of this to say
that I'm sorry you are missing the party next year.
I would have liked to see you in your place
where it's cold and where your home is.
I would have liked to see you in the snow
or on your motorcycle
around the moose that seem to be everywhere around you
There was comfort in knowing you were one of mine
or I was one of yours.
Every time we spoke or talked or texted or chatted
you told me you loved me
and I'm glad I said it back
every time.
I'll always measure time in regards to you
as the time I knew I had an uncle
and the time I knew you loved me.
I knew you loved me before I saw you though,
because you sent me a picture of where her ashes were
so I could know where she was
and be there too.
After he left
from the airport he told me
he was missing me already and he wasn't even gone.


Hey
I know how that feels.
I'm missing you already
but I cannot
will not
believe that you are
gone.

Eyes Open

"Everybody's waiting for you to break down
Everybody's waiting to see the fall out
Even when you're sleeping
keep your eyes
open."


I was at a house on the bay on the beach
one weekend and it started around 9
and ended around 1 am and I was so very tired
but I smiled through the hours because two houses down
there had to be the biggest rager on that side of the island
I could hear all the people there screaming SHOTS
at least 5 different times that night and every so often
a kayak with people wandering off to do whatever young people
do drunkenly in the wee hours of the night would slide past my house
and I would scream at them to have a good time
and they would back and it was oh so reminiscent of the
drunken toast I am not quite the master of.

Sometimes I think that I am not quite the person
who makes the choices
but at other times the rage is flowing so much stronger than the grief does
it's the rage that gives me the choice
that even when I'm so angry I can't stop shaking
I'm changing I'm flying I'm shaking the dust from my feet
because I try not to wear shoes
all my hair is gone but I think the back of my neck is where
I keep my power
and my hands.

Once upon a time
a million years ago
and today sometimes
I've successfully hidden how I feel for so many instances and so many years
that I don't even remember how I really feel about something.
There are no more real feelings for these moments
only rueful smiles and nods that say I agree
stay safe don't rock the boat.
It's okay just don't say anything.

Let's just ignore that previous title. christ.

On brief occasions
very brief, very occasionally
I worry that all the words that spill out so frequently
will one day spin their way into a web I can't talk my way out of.

One day all the words I spew and spit and speak
won't  mean a damn thing, because when I'm still and silent
all I see are hands wrapped around me and things I've never done
feet that haven't gone where I wanted them to and
lips that are fuller but angrier
and a life I'll never live is just too much to see floating around behind my eyes

and on the days that these thoughts creep nearer and nearer
I stay in my room, draw the curtains, dim the lights
and mourn the things I might have been.

Oh darling, darling
don't assume
it doesn't do any good
or do
as it turns out,
I occasionally take applications for my grief.

...

"But if you close your eyes
does it almost feel like nothing changed at all
and if you close your eyes
does it almost feel like you've  been here before
oh, how am I gonna be an optimist about this."



My skin itches on rainy days

and because it is summer
the thunderstorms around here are frequent.

Looking at my guitar and my piano
makes my brain itchy and my fingers twitch
I can't quite make myself go and play
but I sit on the couch and tap tap tap
and practice the chords and the notes
and try to remember what it was like to have my fingers fly
the way my brain does.

Fortunately, there is a small slightly evil cat here
and when she notices me getting upset
or moving too fast
or really any time she sees me existing
she comes over and makes her presence known. 

She knows when the brain and the stomach are doing terrible things
and she makes her presence known
and that presence is generally much more calming on most days
unlike today, where her presence has far more claws
and we are not getting trimmed until tomorrow.
My skin has a growing collection of holes
in the shape of pawprints.


I went to therapy for the first time since January or earlier
I can't really remember
but it was super helpful
and I think she wants to work with me to capture the parts of my brain that I like
the musical parts and the parts that are able to think coherently most of the time
and she wants to help rewire my fight or flight or freeze systems
which are in desperate need of a tune up or just maybe we should
strip the whole thing and put in new wiring. Or whatever it is that you do
to cars and brains that are magnificent fuck ups.

She's asked that I identify things that allow me to quiet the eternal brain chanting
and I thought of a few while I was there
the cat Evangeline and the way she cuddles
when the kids want a story or just to sit with me
reading, but I use that a lot to numb the pain and the fear and the anxiety
I can rarely concentrate for long enough to do one thing at a time
cleaning or playing games for longer than 5 minutes at a time is a struggle
I can read more because I can intersperse it with other things
I don't know really. I don't know what's wrong, but I know something
is off, and I have been off,
always,



there are always loops in my brain
things that stick, there was a ghost in my closet for 3 years once
and my brain still tells me that the food isn't mine that someone will steal it
so hide it squirrel it run away
Don't trust her, don't trust him, hide your children do not look at the sunlight
Don't tell anyone the truth, don't fight
FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT
don't touch my stuff don't read my writings what if she hates me what if I throw up
what if I'm not the best the brightest the strongest
what if I'm the angriest
hold your head still be careful migraines blinding pain always just around the corner.
why do my eyebrows never conform to a single shape no matter how much I or anyone else shapes them
why do my hands shake so much?
Why do I feel so indisputably ill after anxiety hits
why won't anyone believe me when I tell them I feel sick
why does the fear make it hard to say no but harder still to make meaningful connections
why is it only once or twice a month that I can push past the walls that I've built up
and let myself cry?

No one's girl

"And it's not much
but my money's on you."

I promise
I promise
I promise

that I loved you once
that I love you still

but some nights
I hate me.