The End of the World

I knew before the news broke

My lungs had been tight- body aching, sinus pressure

Burning flesh filled the air

The Earth was dying

 

I couldn’t see anything wrong

The air was saturated with dewy condensation

It hung, thick on the dusty horizon

But she was falling

 

My eyes watered

Filled with the invisible smoke

And the crackling of wet leaves

Dehydrating and bursting veins

 

My veins

 

I was not surprised to learn it

My Goddess, brought to her knees

Magdalena was always going to die here

Screaming in the ashes of her greatest trees

– How men crucify their Gods

A.

No one

no one would blame me if i couldnt find the energy to get dressed today. being a mom is tough. who cares what i look like anyway? no one would blame me if i crashed as soon as the kids went down for a nap. they are SO exhausting. no one would blame me for ordering takeout tonight. how can i cook when i barely get a chance to breathe?

no one would notice when the dark comes creeping in. it happens at night, when the kids are mine and no one elses.

no one would notice when i am too busy to answer the phone or text back- must be changing diapers.

or suffocating.

no one would blame me for being sad. its “normal.”

but when everything is black as night, and there is only one way out-

everyone will blame me.

blame me.

– ppd

A.

Listing

thinking it out loud doesnt make it real

crumple it up and throw it on the ground to make you feel

the shit you do beyond closed doors doesnt matter before you post it

no one fucking cares where the bear shits- unless you know it

throw away your list bc you dont fucking need it

A.

The World

Do not give them the world.

Not when they are 2, begging for that toy on the television.

Not when they are 12, asking for money to see a new movie in theaters.

Not when they are 18, asking you to pay their tuition.

Do not give them the world.

The world wasn’t meant to be carried on small shoulders.

It wasnt designed to be held in the palm of your hand.

The darkest days are supposed to be shared in the company of loving shoulders to cry on.

The beauty belongs to everyone.

Do not give them the world.

Help them see it and love it.

Help them recognize the danger in its beauty.

Help them earn its trust and its good karma.

But please…

Do not give them the world.

A.

Parkinson’s

He is old. Shaking his finger at the credit card keypad, like he is scolding it for not remembering his pin.

My son is young. Twisting in the cart, his face is sour- “I want you to GO, Mommy.”

invalid entry

“Be patient.”

invalid entry

“Can’t you just GO?!”

invalid entry

“No baby, we have to wait our turn.”

invalid entry

“MOMMY!”

invalid entry

“I need you to have empathy, please.”

transaction approved

Teach your children big words. They will surprise you. I promise.

A.

Alive-ish

hey whats up im back. i had a baby. got real sad.

i dont know what they call it anymore. but here i am.

i didnt kill myself.

i wont hide from my notebook anymore. i unburied it from all the bukowski and poetry until it was all that was left on my nightstand. i miss the way my pen feels between my fingertips and i hate that my silence is louder than my presence.

i want to write about it but my heart wont pump the ink out. but here i am.

alive-ish

luckily there is no shortage of bullshit going on in this world to piss me the fuck off.

i live for the rage on my worst days. but most days, i live for me. and the beauty that my life can be. thanks for waiting.

A.