PoeticaL
cluttering the net since 2001

she said, I don't want in the middle of it

Sunday, May. 25, 2003
Sometimes I wonder how many times I will call Rick at work and cry my eyes out and hope that he can hear me on that horrible phone. I don't think I can ever put together a string of words that fully explains all of the emotions that I struggle with. I drop another pill and wait for the numbness to take effect. It's like novocaine for the heart. That's all it is. It's not an answer, it's more like a solution to the unsolvable grief. A respite from the anger and resentment. That's all it will ever be. The minute it's not coursing through my veins, they collapse and I just want to die. Why is death the one thing that always remains enough of a mystery that we believe it is pure silence?

I know this will pass, it's just the minutes, the hours that I am inside of it, I want to hold my breath, pass out and wake up in a new day.

How can two people who sin in the worst of ways spend their sunny Sunday afternoon at a church picnic like a happy family when all I want to do is see my only family, my son?

I used to believe in God, and now I believe more in the devil...evil. The devil is so much more apparent today.

-PoeticaL
5:35 p.m. ::
prev :: next