Maybe a certain amount of insult
Is needed, to stoke benumbed pride

Maybe a certain amount of pain
Is necessary, to provoke healing, inside

To induce renervation, to restore circulation
Maybe, it’s unavoidable, injury

To make your mind open, through the fog,
Tentatively, once again, to see

That’s what it took
And it doesn’t matter, if
That’s what it takes

I am finally awake.






There’s always a certain point where I can tell, he’s not human anymore.

When he’s screaming. The word is so deficient, but that’s because his baseline volume. No, when he gets to that point where his face turns purple, and the cords stand out in his neck, and the veins are like serpents over his dripping forehead. When he’s spitting words out like a bellow but more low pitched, like a snarl, like a growl, like an animal about to rip someone’s throat out- then I know.

When his friends come over. When those friends come over and give him lectures on how to keep his family in line, and he calls us out to clean the room in front of them or makes us sit while he recites our faults to them. Then I know.

When his friends come over, and praise us. And he sits there seething, silently bubbling and frothing that someone appreciated me, or appreciated us. Each word of praise lands on his ego like a dagger, and he flinches, he flinches at the thought that people could see worth in us, or that we would see something worthy in ourselves, when he’s spent so much effort programming us to be doormats- then I know.

Although, in these situations the friends guilty know too. And if they’re bad people, they quit the praise sharpish, so as to appease him. And if they’re good people, they know. They see the animal, and they generally withdraw, and stop coming to our house at all.

When he goes into that rage. When he starts slamming things off the shelves, or dishes on the floor. When he springs out of the sofa, or his chair, teeth bared and fists ready, a practices move from his old boxing days. Fists up, threaten, jab, shuffle back- I know that dance, and I didn’t learn it from Rocky Balboa either. But I know. Then I know.

I know when he eats. It’s a common scene in my house. Lunch, dinner, and that scene. God how I know it.

Food spraying out his mouth as he eats, teeth bared. The same bellowing. But accompanying by furious ranting, jumping up and down, slamming his fist on the table, and food. Repulsive, disgusting, nauseating food coating his mouth and chin, spit dribbling, and occasionally spewing out when he forgets to chew in his rush to fight. Then I know, I know, I wish that I didn’t but I know.

Just like I know when he wears his perfectly creased tailored suits, uniforms and shined shoes, and the impeccably groomed, cheery and jovial man walks out into the world that he rules in. Then I know more than anything. My father is an animal. And I wish I didn’t, but I know it.

Grapes of Wrath

Grapes of Wrath

I always wanted to be
Sweet, simple, citrus
Dainty and fresh
Summer zest
But I’m afraid
Life refused to let me be

Instead, I aged
Bloomed, blossomed forth
Borne of the grapes of wrath
Ripened and stewed
I brewed, within
Simmered under the surface
Of my skin
Bottled the rage up
And the anger
And the passion
And the lust
I was not born
To slake a thirst
-but to inspire it
Not comfort, but if you want
I can provide it
To enrapture and tantalize
Again, and again

I am a fine wine, my friend


Mirrors -II-

Mirrors -II-

I hid away from mirrors
All my life
Not one reflection
Had the courage
To meet my eyes
Like snowflakes, ethereal
I was glass, and glass repelled me
Till you- your love compelled
My fragility- and made me see

I am no goddamn snowflake

I am the Queen of Ice, alit
In blazing glory
And no mirror
Could contain me



Mirrors- I

Mirrors -I

You feel safe, in your illusions
All of you
You refuse to see
How many sides there are
To me
You deny reality
You want so hard to believe
There is nothing more to me
A one dimensional

You stand there and think
That you know me

But there are many like you
All standing, adamant,
In so many places
And I-

I have many faces…


Comfortably Numb



Glazed, my sight Dulled perceptions Blurred images flashing by All the world All the sights All the senses Effortlessly dumbed The restless breeze is just a Ripple Hear it weep Hear it cry Making its way through the trees Through my hair Every realization Moving in and out of focus Every realization Stunned Every awakening gathered, Tethered Every movement of the body, mind Measured Every epiphany Temporarily shunned

Today I want naught Of sentience The lights fade away into Nothingness Dimmed, all extinguished Blunt The raindrops herald My oblivion

Tonight I am Comfortably numb

© CM 27.06.2014

Thanks for the prompt, Daily Post. It fit perfectly. 🙂


Cookie ❤

PS. How could I not? 😛