Independent Breaks #2

Now that this idea/project has been explained (click here if you missed that), allow me to introduce the G- it’s not for guest either, that’d be cheesy, we all know I don’t do cheese, intolerance without any lactose excuses…Her name is Gabby and she’s awesome. hopefully she’s going to start up her own page, because in this case, the G could be for Gangsta…I’m going to shut up. Part 2 of a conversation that isn’t.

Prison Nurse

Always surrounded by bodies labeled friends, fielding compliments with a hole in my glove. The errors add up and they offer face time lip service, delayed venom begins to coagulate my fragile ego, exiting stage wrong. Alone in the masses, no one gets me. Unwilling loner that fell into the fire and her lies at least ignite something buried inside me. And it feels OK.

My head was always slightly drawn towards the floor as in awe of how the ants carried such heavy crumbs to feast.
My shoulders weighed for my past burdened my life with no relief.
I feared being seen, being seen as attractive as they perceived my out ward shell.
Their eyes lied, my mirror was truthful-
This fragmented human was cracked and distinctly flawed.
I plagued myself unloved able almost untouchable, in a lower standard of peasantry.
The remarks of a man reminding me of a beautiful mind and enchanting soul proved that my own head could have mislead me.
“It is you for you, & only you, I see, nothing else.”
My exterior scars felt invisible as I could feel now as maybe a creature like myself did have a match.
Part of me stayed reclusive, how can someone whom I already doomed temporary already have me all figured out ?

With a slip of my tongue, life as I know it implodes. Fragments of sanity spread out across the miles of my mind. I’m too tired to even look for the pieces, let alone gather them up , haul them back and glue that part of me back together. I want to be staring at the stars, but I can’t get the timing right, seared retinas force my eyes closed where all I can see is glowing memories of her perfect face, that flesh scorched into my gray matter. I want to sleep but I’m too tired to count sheep. One more time, the victim of my own insecurities.


I casually walked through my life in a trance, under a blanketed fog of deceit, a mind full of mashed ideas of love and hate
The perfect story of failure.
It began ideally in a dream, told through story tales, I chased that never came true.
The wood soled shoes on our hardwood floors did not bring enjoyment in my heart anymore when the door opened.
I wish he hadn’t picked my rose now,
I was wilting regardless…
More than ever.
He enjoyed this pain.
He now owned it.


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