Wednesday, December 29, 2010

"She thought a long time and kept hitting her thighs with her fists. her face felt like it was scattered into pieces and she could not keep it straight. The feeling was a whole lot worse than being hungry for any dinner, yet it was like that. I want-I want-I want-was all that she could think about-but just what this real want was she did not know."

~The Heart is a Lonely Hunter

I often feel like this black hole. needing needing wanting, unable to be filled up or to hold onto anything. Other times everything is too much, it sucks me in and I can't breathe. There doesn't seem to be a middle ground.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

we were never here

..just last the year

Saturday, December 18, 2010


I try so hard to be happy. To enjoy things. I don't know why; sometimes it ends up making me feel worse, far away, going through the motions. But I want to be happy. Customers at work ask how I can stand the corny music, and think I'm being sarcastic when I shrug and say, "I like it." I insist on a Christmas tree, put up lights and silly decorations and sit at home alone among them. As if it will make something good happen, something in me shift. I wait.

I end every Christmas in tears, whether it's the past hanging over me, the food refused or gotten rid of, an imminent hospitalization, or something unnameable. Yet I don't want the season to be over. I want to walk home at night and see lights around me like hope hanging from wires, walk to the stores and feel like I'm on a mission instead of just wandering. I just want to feel something different. I want things to be different.

i wait.


Friday, December 17, 2010

how easy is forgetfulness

"Her bones streak the night

like rising breath in the cold


as she evaporates

from your rooms and life.

photo: Nan Goldin

Why do you gaze in the mirror,

look grave and then smirk?

Something is caught under your nails.

Then it is gone."

~marge piercy


I want my bones back so badly it aches. why won't my body obey?

Monday, December 6, 2010

Now and again it seems worse than it is, but mostly the view is accurate.

Colder days especially remind me of hibernating in hospitals, months lost to the revolving doors, indifferent to the outside world. Scratchy pink blankets and fluttering white and blue gowns. Dry heated air and cold tile floors against bare feet padding down the hall to scales, or tredded socks shuffling to bathrooms without doors. Wards in winter are safer than in summer, when the windows lock and the restraints on the bed rattle during thunderstorms.

Time measured in meals and staff rotations, discharge dates and tightening clothes. Or how well you can fake a smile.

Friday, December 3, 2010

there is no Me

"Like the Golem, I am makeshift, lumbering.
I rattle and wheeze and my parts
are cannibalized T-birds and sewing machines,
mixers and wheelchairs, hairdryers.
My skin is the paiper-mache` of newspapers
cured with the tears of children
pregnant with hunger. My heart
is the stolen engine of an F-111.
My ligaments are knitting needles, hangers
recovered from the bodies of
self-aborted women."

~Marge Piercy