Heart wreck. Quick recover. Freak undercover. Four-play. Argue ALL day. Emotional display. Clarity. He instills in me. #1 concern ME. He loves me. He loves me I think.. a lot.Yeah right. He loves me most. No question. ALL-in love. Close overdose. No I guess. No hesitance. No I suppose.
A complete YES.
He holds my heart next to his. In his chest. Heartbeat. Sound check. My safe place. My save face. He is home. Intertwined bodies through a wormhole. Connected souls. Through prison phone. Everything about everything. He knows. Ruler of right. Apology of wrong. Forgiving of ALL. My obsession. ALL or nothing. He adores me. He glorifies me. Our love-story out does any movie I’ve ever seen. It’s so surreal. Outsiders think it’s make believe. He is the man. MINE. I’m not jealous I’m territorial with Mine. I am his lady. His partner. Significant other. His queen. His wife. His bitch. His baby. He knows my triggers and wholly accepts me as me. My off the chart level of bipolar crazy. He rubs my ass and spanks me. HARD. Over fifteen years he’s fluent in my DNA genetic matrix chart. He knows my favorite cock-tail. A splash of cream. I scream as he sedates me with his tongue. His voice. His words. His energy keeps me forever young. I age backwards. Zero to a Hundred in .2 seconds. He tranquilizes me in one sentence. Hypnotized. He always brings me back. That is a fact. Even if it causes him to almost break his back. His little monkey always attached. Needy. Greedy. He rarely complains. But, in an instant he will attack. He’s my everything. My crooked halo. My golden wings. No question we sold my platinum flawless wedding ring. Attorney fees. Do what we must. It’s ALL or nothing. It’s ALL about us. He calls the shots. Star player. I fully trust. I lust in love. Compulsive crush. Mad and deep. I kick and buck only when my gut flames up. Fire. Passion. I stand my ground. He respects my being. His perfect queen. He straightens my crown. He stands down. His crown jewel. He always listens. My greatest gift. My biggest wish. My absolute. I salute. HIM. I belong to him. I am his. 34.Qh8#. (NO) Stalemate. WIN-WIN. Dynasty.
He knows the inflections in the tone of my voice. He knows if I’m smiling or crying silently. He speaks me fluently. And when I cry myself to sleep I feel him. Holding me. Maybe I’m delusional. But, I feel his presence as I back my body up into him. I can smell his scent. I feel his beard against my neck. I wake up recharged. Maybe it’s because, when we fall asleep our mirror images meet amongst the cosmos and stars and as our avatars fill our space in beds. We can’t sleep. Take the pain away. We go through the motions and count down the days. The closer it gets the more I miss him. I check fbop daily just to see if this mission has an early completion. My heart I keep extending. Lately it’s got the best of me. I inhale my clients problems. I loan them my breath to help them breathe. I’ve had more than a handful tell me that hush goes into their therapy expense category. On Sundays I detox. My entire body physically hurts. I take my job home and receive so many texts I can’t keep up with my life. It’s taking away from my duty of being the perfect wife. But, he knows me so well. He helps me through the flames as I’m lost in hell. I follow his voice. He is my addiction. Understands the affliction. Suffering and self sabotage. Reminds me I’m worthy and of ALL my gifts. He encourages me to write. To regurgitate the suffering inside. Flush the Hushed life I lead. The thought of not having him I can’t even conceive. I’m so fucking tired of taking the lead. Some days I’m beyond tired of being strong. As the days get closer I dream about becoming a mother. My clock ticks louder with each day. I hate myself for the mistakes I’ve made. I could have a mini us. But, no fear took over and that gift was flushed. I’ll never forgive myself for that. I live with that pain everyday. His kindness and patience is how I self medicate. My fingers move so fast. I don’t even know what I’m typing. I do a spell check and publish the pain inside me.
This was a really tough weekend. I’m under the gun. I can’t even fathom the thought of having some fun. He says I’m wound so tight. I need to loosen up. I don’t know how. I’m on a money chase. I’m doing my very best to grind with grace when lately all I feel is rage. I’m back to my fuck you pay me mentality. My kindness taken for weakness is what I feel in me. I sip my baileys and contemplate. How I plan to win this race. Because, nobody remembers second place. I’m here to win. With him. I have the right to remain silent. I’m ALL in.
I dream of foggy London streets. Brew pubs and red telephone booths. ALL I hear is an English accent. I long for crumpets and a spot o’ tea. I stroll down streets familiar from a prior life once lived. I remember.. the small bakery where I’d get our fresh baguettes and bread. I smile gently at the flower boy. I think I danced with his great grandfather. Pick up my pace to find myself placed in the center of time square. Chaos surrounds me. Different languages being spoken ALL around me. I understand everything. I understand energy. I spin like a top. Still. Grace. I smell the funk exuding through the grates. I thrive. Feeling completely alive. Boot camp living. Walk fast. Talk faster. Attitude. Always. Everything urgent. Real recognizes real in that rare instance of stillness.
My left ear pulls to the right. Adrift.. searching for for off sound of Spanish guitar. Barcelona… I feel you in me. The universe is me for delivery. Like the others you will not be a sprint or jog. You will be for the long haul. My body sways to ocean waves. Salt in air. Mesmerized by story written inside. Under lock and key. Mahriahized. ALL serious. Brown almond shaped eyes. I miss PCH. A guaranteed heart race. My heart open to ALL unknown. I pause life. Stoic. Mad. Dodging jabs. I wait for my real life to begin. I paint my face. Character in place. Hair dyed. I cover up my pain. Torture chamber within me. Solitary confinement. No participation. Ex-communicated. Celebrations un-celebrated. I punish myself. Intently. Self sabotage. Belongings remain boxed three years later in garage. Everyday I see the vase empty of flowers you used to shower me with. I’m your beautiful. Your boxed cigarettes lay on a dresser you’ve never touched. Un-smoked. Un-touched. I remind myself you’ll come back. I light a candle for you nightly so you know where to find me. I ‘m missing you. Who am I? A birthday two weeks away. A year older. Closer to forty. I look in the mirror at the little girl staring intensely back at me. When will she grow up? At what point will she fade away? Going through the motions. Moving mountains. Parting oceans. Inside filled with fear. Fierce exterior. Lethal tongue. Eat my young. Literally. Figuratively. I live for the stories flowing through my veins. Inspired by strength and faith. Chin up I stand in fate. My mind writes in calligraphy. Journaling. My heart holds the master plan. A language spoken by one. He whom holds the key is thee truest one and only. Carnated specificaly for me. Mirror image. His rib. I wait for him to decode me. Open me. Roll tape watching outtakes and playback. Mysterious me. He’s my leading man. Takes my hand. Paying back our stolen days. Celebrating like it’s our first date. Birthdays.
Lonely made-up American meaningless days we call holidays. To celebrate a programed date. The city shuts down. Everyone frantically running around. Spending money that results in debted stress. I sit alone and wait out the chaotic brainwashed mess. Completely hollowed from the saddened truths. I refuse to download that malware and perpetuate the systems fuckedupness. I break my nails. Scroll facebook like a crack addict. While looking at piled up bills. I dance alone. I sleep alone. I eat alone. I was born alone and will die alone. Insanely sane. I thrive in my own existence. Saturated in ALL things pain. HUSH I live in a lackadaisical rush. I brighten my avatar spray tan and blush.
Mi vida loca. Melancholy moment. Thank you Xanax for the calm to process this state of madness. Flashes of red. I piss a muddy yellow hue. Dehydrated. I thirst for you. Til then I wait for my real life to begin. (stuck on a loop)
In my head. Need to be crawling into bed. I’m plottin’ on over drive. Slick. SHIT. I know.. where this mind-state gets.. me. Trouble or a double-UP. Fuck. Yup… I’m trusting my gut. YNOT? RYNOT. ALL day. Wheels spinnin. My smile on. Grinning. Ear to ear. The taste of your lips sooo near. FUCK. Drip–Stain. I love that kinda pain. Top secret. Switch. Loyalty is returned. I try to behave.. I really-really do… but, when there are so many options what’s a girl to do? Now that’s one glorious mind fuck. I never run outta luck. I got the heart of a hustler. The face of an angel. I write my own story. I blaze… in clouds of glory. I smoke solo. Han solo and Princess Leia. My love.. Yoda. May the force be with you. And also with you. I restore. Brainstorm in these Portland rain storms. Dream create galore. These basic bitches can’t compete. I smile first. No compete – Clause – Applause. I’m a billion dollar bitch. I’ll infect you with you my energy and you will never be quite the same. Life is a test. Life is a game. I never lose. Either I win or I learn. And a Queen always protects her King. Assessment report came back insane. Fuck that label rx game. I’m brilliant at this poker game. My life pressures turned my flawless. Hearts on fire. I gave up with out a tear.I knew what I was sacrificing and that sacrifice won me sixteen years. Talk about something real. That moment was raw. REAL. Off my finger. Moments flashed before my eyes. Whip-lashed my mind. On bended knee at Fernando’s Hideaway flashback on E you stunned me with your forever vows and a ring so perfect you silenced a salsa club rowdy crowd. I wore it true. True to you. And when it was time. I knew what I had to do. I slid it off… Placed it on that white mans velvet cloth. I watched as he removed stone by stone. Inspecting. Complimenting. Eyes twinkling. Off this lick. My heart hardening. Poker face. Fuck you. Pay me. Cold cash in hand. I always recount my money. I handed it to the attorney and told him bluntly to save his A$$. My clock is ticking and I need him back in time to impregnate me and feel our baby kick. I work hard for a cause. I work hard cause I’m hard.
Yet, I love you and you’ll feel it. You’ll judge me and I’ll absorb it. Morph it. Into strength you’ll walk away with. Skin therapy. I will meditate and replenish. Lightening speed. Lightening struck by me. Electrified. Touched by an angel. A stranger. You tell ALL your secrets too. Kindred hearts. Connected by a thirty minute session. I feel you. I’m listening. I’m transferring. I computing. I’m diluting the nonsense and sending you on your way with substance. You don’t even realize until it fully absorbs. But, I do… in your profound yelp reviews. My crazy serious loving impression will leave you in question? I got you. I’ll never share your secrets. You’ll come back for more cause I’m a mysterious soul. Bonnie and Clyde. Jay and Bey. Kim and Kanye.
Tony ♥ Ry. Dynasty. Monumental. Together we are our temple. Longest standing. Commanding. Duel respect.
To your life of nine to five rigid consistency. It’s okay. I’ll be that ray.. my light will never dull. I know. I’m full. On me. I earned this shit. Title: BOSS BITCH. Here hold my dignity real quick… I’ve got some sketchy shit to do. Never been a good girl. Raised in the hood girl. Chameleon upbringing. Racial division. Traumatic confusion. Hampton’s to New York City Lights. Beverley Hills to Toronto skies. Palm Beach to Oakland streets. My situations pretty situated. My intentions remain pure. However sketchy. I walk a fine line. When you’re a prison wife together you walk that line.
If I could change anything. I know exactly what that one thing would be. It gets lonely out here. I’m not interested in being around anyone. I don’t have time for new friends. If it doesn’t make dollar’s it doesn’t make sense. Literally. Figuratively. I mean that. I got a whole lot going on. My days and nights are long. I’m busy. I don’t want to be bothered. I’m focused. I hate talking on the phone. Ten minutes max and I tuned out at five. My time most valuable. I’m never on time. I’m early. Being on time means I’m late. Everything is scheduled. If your late. I will not wait. I live by a to-do list. Do this.. do that. I cross one thing off and add another. I need someone who gets me. That does not make excuses or complain. I need someone who realizes I’m nutty. Borderline insane. But, I’m smart and they want a piece of me. My life. My infectious energy. Follow my lead. Do what I need. Cause me no extra effort. Or I will lose interest.
I have twenty notebooks. That is not an exaggeration. I need you to know how to navigate them. Assist me. Impress me. You will go far. I build you up. I will teach you who you are. You will gain knowledge and strength. My words are straight and direct. I have no expectations. I have requirements. I lead by example. I word hard. I get dirty. I’ll take a discount by being flirty. It’s going to take someone very special. Someone who has the desire to learn to juggle.