Crybaby

This morning I did something I have never done before –
while the children were bickering
and the telephone was ringing
and the television blaring –
I snuck off to the powder room
and quietly closed the door
and then I slid down to the floor
then with my elbows on my knees
and my heart in my hands.
I cried on the floor  facing the throne
I cried like a baby as silently as possible
so as not to be overheard.
Felt that my heart was breaking…
there are so many reasons
that it’s difficult to pinpoint one.
but I think it’s mostly that
I’ve spent my life trying to be
everything and enough,
the one with a voice.
And I’ve discovered that
I have no voice to speak of.

It’s a hard row to hoe

 

I am –

Who am I? It depends,  I suppose,  in which context you ask as to my answers,  but, in general:

I am a human female,

but resent the human part.

It’s an unnecessary affirmation that

pokes at a sore spot, frankly.

I still have most of my original parts,

though my requests for

harvesting certain organs

are continuously denied.

I am Canadian.

I live where the

wintertime hurts my face

and it’s always a little chilly

even in summer,

but it is home and beautiful.

I am one who admires

the human form

but doesn’t understand

its fragility or its emotional responses.

Wasteful expenditures of energy.

I am a music lover

who thinks music found in films,

in most forms,

is like nails on the chalkboard

and is a hideous effort at torture.

I am a mother and

they are daemons of the best sort.

Also boys.

You can’t win them all.

I am an apparition,

ghost, if you will.

A memory

of something

that once

was.

I am –

©MelanieMcCurdie2016

Shell

All that you see is a hard shell
The veneer is a result of my time,
Trapped in the Hellmouth’s yaw
It’s like rock, baby, unbreakable
Maybe you think I’m some snarcastic schnook
With an IDGAF attitude and a
sarcastic left hook; you’re not wrong
Hey, I’m strong but smell ain’t everything,
not made of stone or steel or
even spit and goodwill most days.
Duct tape is a staple around here
Truth is, inside is just a tired human
who needs a soft quiet place to break
and ressemble the pieces of my jigsaw heart

I’ll still destroy you if you push me though …

Flensed

What are we but an insouciant society

heaving with tarmac nightmares?

The point is the scrum, not the blood…or reward

And such sociable birds we be,

Angels with vestigial wings

that loom around the truths

like a massive Henge.

What could be used to excise those who

claim ignorance when it is actually arrogance?

Flaying good hearts where

one assumes lives a monster,

leads most often

to the same being flensed

©MelanieMcCurdie

Bite Me

You keep saying that

I don’t talk nor do I

express myself,  well ask

yourself why that could be

let’s see you utilise

that brain for more than

sexual function or

romantic fantasy

ask yourself again why

I don’t scream from rooftops

from soul balconies

what’s locked inside of me;

the way I love or hate

you’d investigate if

it mattered at all but

it doesn’t and while you

self serve a buffet of

narcissistic platitudes

that we are all expected

to imbibe as gospel

you have the ballsy nerve

to crown me drama queen

because I break down and

show my weaker side?

you can’t decide what to

say to me but run and

hide like a guilty child

instead of the adult

that  you shout claim to be.

Grow up already…okay?

I’m through with the raving

holier than thou, whining

attitude when someone

doesn’t gift wrap your wants,

your needs, your deep desires,

offered up on steaming on

a stolen silver plate.

trust me, no one wants the

half gassed effort made at

love so save the words and

prove it for a fucking

change instead of giving

me a menu and the

same shitty lip service

that is always on tap

©MelanieMcCurdie2016