The Cold Cruel World

6 Sep


Sometimes I feel like I’m under all that ice.  Isn’t it spectacular how wind, rain and freezing cold all conspired to create this strange sculpture?  It looks alien.  So much like the way I feel …. sometimes.

You should know right off that this post is about me, and what I’ve been dealing with.  I’ve recently lost a brother, two weeks later a sister, a few months after that, my only true, most beloved friend and love, and I’ve been distracted.  I wrote about them here, I described what it was like just to lift my dying sister who had turned into a skeletal stranger I resented for being someone I didn’t recognize.  I described loving my Matthew, the man I centered my life on, the man I invested a future in, the man who connected me to the world I wanted.  They’re all gone.  Gone.  But life wasn’t done with me…..

Depression.  Deep and dark.  I am disabled in my legs and cannot work, I have to collect disability and live in subsidized housing.  That’s as far as I’ll go in the boring tale of my physical woes.   So I don’t even have the distraction of working.  I don’t like this life, I don’t smile at people anymore, I don’t care for my little few possessions and I talk to nothing but empty air.

So I just felt like venting and I came here.  Talking to something that isn’t alive.  Almost like me.  It seems there’s a shortage of people with compassion out there so I don’t trust confiding too much.  I’ll say only that without those I love, I have to wonder if I can find a reason to stay here.

I have to wonder…..






26 Mar

They bring no relief.  They hurt, ripping themselves from my blurry eyes like barbed wire, falling down my burning face like rivers of hopelessness and the state of being alone.  I am alone now.  Matthew was my life, and he is dead and I am alone.  I don’t want to share myself with anyone else – unless it’s him.

God, I tried to make deals with You, they’ve gone unanswered.  Didn’t you let your own Son defeat death?  Why can’t you do it for my love?  My love for him is as true as yours for your Son, why can’t you bring Matthew back???

Now I know I’m slipping into that insane place where you think the dead will live again.



21 Mar ^C63E26D059DDFCB6008FAAA1461534522F5BF366BCFF45A3FB^pimgpsh_fullsize_distr


Matthew Alan Green 31/1/79 – 19/2/16

^C63E26D059DDFCB6008FAAA1461534522F5BF366BCFF45A3FB^pimgpsh_fullsize_distrOh yes, I remember now…’re in the universal galaxies surrounding me, you’re part of where you came from, you’re in the stars now.  COME BACK!!  This was not supposed to happen my love.  You were not supposed to die before me.

That last final day and night together in your UK flat, I came across the ocean to sit with you and laugh at our good fortune.  Money, love, joy, all we could want, and soon we would make it more real than reality.  We were finally going to do everything we talked of.  See the pyramids.  Go to Belgium again.  Visit Paris at night.  I never saw you so gentle and sweet, so kind and caring!  Did  you know something?  Why did you ask if I’d go to your funeral?  Did you understand I was not really serious?  I thought you had years, I thought we both did.

This guilt is so painful, the tears won’t cease,  they are ripping me apart my dear friend.  HAUNT ME please haunt me for whatever days I’ve left so I can feel something of your uniqueness in my orbit.  For now, I’ve lost my compass, I’m spinning in space with no compass no direction no balm for this hurt and no Matthew to call and rescue me.  No Matthew – ever again.

I’ve asked many about this thing, this grief, this mourning, this sorrow so strong it has a life an energy a power and it won’t leave me time to rest.  I can’t sleep or eat I can’t use one moment without it being taken by your memory.  They say this will pass – they say time will heal me.  They all say such comforting things which bring nothing at all to my heart.  I know they mean to help me.   People are so kind when you hurt.

All the deals I made with God have gone unanswered.

Your ashes will live in the Wetherby pond you loved so much, before the attack which took so much, yet brought us closer in this decade.  You’ll like it there.  All your family and friends are still dumbstruck but trying hard to honor you as best they can.  I cannot bring myself to go back to the UK for this.  I will not say goo-bye, I cannot do it I will not do it I will live with this pain as my punishment for not saving your life  – somehow.

Your Mum says at least you were with me when it happened.  Your best friend and soul’s mate, as you were mine.  Maybe she’s right.  Yet I see no “at least” in any of this, only confusion and deep deep guilt.  Hurtful, torturous guilt I am loathe to abandon.   This pain and loneliness is, after all, what I deserve.

Your heart will go on and on…….in mine.  I LOVE YOU.

The Nightmare Starts When I Wake Up

25 Nov

Early lyrics I’m saving for a song I’m writing, almost done.      

“The nightmare starts when I wake up,

in a cold sweat,

on a hot hot summer’s day-

light all around me,

it surrounds me, in its embrace….

and I begin to sway ….

Sway to the image in my nighmare, which I brought back,

from the depths of a deep deep sleep-

ing with my nightmare, and the deafening sounds of

no one, anywhere….

 The emptiness is familiar, it knows me and it shows me what I missed – when my eyes were open, so I close them – to find my better bliss.

The nightmare starts when I wake up – the nightmare starts when I wake up – the nightmare starts when I wake up.”

CH: Downscale with *Am, G, F, E7, ad lib chords to melody

N: d (the) eee eage, egfd, cde,e,ed#e (day)

e(light) eeage, egfd, ccde – eeded3ed3 e(sway)


The Zone

10 Jul

Black-holeWe all have them.  Somewhere in your habitat, and wherever you travel, something called The Zone is close by.  It is always where you are.  It is invisible.  It makes no noise, has no smell, no one knows its size, and it cannot die even after you do.  It is a mystery.
Not quite a black hole, but very similar.  A black hole eats all cosmic matter falling into its orbit.  At some point it then spits it out.  It doesn’t “pull” things in, it’s just there for stars and planets to drop into.
The Zone is very similar.
Nothing is pulled into The Zone.  Things simply “enter” as if instantly transported.  Zap – it’s gone.  These items are usually a sock, an earring, one-half of anything, a precious letter, a glove, a shoe, a remote, your last AA battery, a favorite shirt you just had in your hand, your lower denture, the only working pen in the house, and a zillion things from your computer files.  Are you relating to this yet?
Research into the origins of The Zone have resulted in more questions than answers,  For instance, why do these Zones apply only to humans and no other animals?  A dog or cat has none, nor a bird nor hippopotamus.  Only homo sapien sapiens.  The wisest of wise man.  Indeed…
At some indeterminate time, The Zone will spit out what it ate.  It could be immediately, or perhaps an hour or two.  It will not make noise, it will not give any clue to giving up the “thing”.  It just zaps it back into your dimension.  If your eyes are good and you still have the sanity to keep looking, this is the time you find it.  Nothing feels as good as when you actually see that _________(insert anything)
There’s no point in cursing The Zone to hell.  It is sociopathic and has no feelings.  It is cruel beyond measure.  You will have this shadow-place of mystery all your life, and when you pass away it is still unknown what happens to it.
The idea that it follows you into the afterlife is too monstrous to consider.

Years Ago When I Was Older

10 Jul

How serious I was while playing house with him, he being my first love and older by 6 years. How happily serious. I made his meals and washed his clothes, I ran his baths and gently helped him to bed. Time stood still as I watched him fall into a quick, deep tired sleep of no dreams. We lay in a small bed, no TV or radio, but a fast car with the latest in audio, called an 8-track player. We blasted Led Zeppelin while driving to the Bowling Alley to meet our friends. Were we hippies? By then I was still marching for peace, mostly in New York, once at the Pentagon.  He had no political leanings and I did it to belong to something.  I was 17.

The children we lost to the world have been living out their schemes and he, my first Romeo, is dead now, many years gone.

Today in my dotage I wonder at what could have been. Sometimes I cry, many times in gratitude, for I almost lost this precious life, lost it completely, as he would beat and abuse me, and I came so close to the edge that my feet have scars sharp as a blade. He could punch out teeth, break bones, steal your soul. Before he died, he took me to a hell I can never remove from memory.

He loved me that much.


6 Jun

Time to introduce myself to a few home-truths in these cruel days of the shadow of death:

IT’S NOT ABOUT your instinctive need to comfort her when she cries out in the night yet wants for no comfort and will not be touched;
IT’S NOT ABOUT cleaning the house for her when it’s already spotless and she never asked you anyway;
IT’S NOT ABOUT seeing if she’s taken her medicine when she knows how to do that almost too well;