On the night of Christmas...

    I knew that I had to leave, and soon. I felt a precursor of embarrassment coming on. Not that it was me that cared so much; but I just may embarrass him. Why? Because I am often more outspoken; more silly, than he is. So, I gathered myself and went outside to have a smoke, or two. let the December wind lash my face, and perhaps sober me up a bit. 

   

We were out in the country, far from most everyone else. The falling snow was perfect in some spots. Glistening, and untouched, glittering under the light of the moon. I felt that i should take a picture. Instead, I finished my smoke, my drink and walked back inside; hoping that I didn't give away too much of what I was thinking...

Copyright 2010 K. Anne Smith

Unsent Note to A Random Person...

 ****************************YOU are not as good as you think you are. You are extremely average, insecure and troubled; just like the rest of us. And I cannot attempt to help you help yourself without you acknowledging this.  ***

And Yes, There Was A Day 3 of Mental Health Day...should have declared it a Mental Health Week...

9-9-2010  


 Day 3 of "FUCK".
Simply put, that's it; "FUCK".
Tired of being broke, tired of not sleeping, tired of feeling worthless, of not having someone to balance me out; help to motivate me.
And I need a cigarette.
Oh, wah. Listen to me.  Passing shit off onto other folks.
Jesus, what is going on here? I feel so unbalanced -
in life,
In everyday.
In the brain.
Fuck.



Copyright K. Anne Smith

A DAy Late, and A dollar (or more) short.

                A DAy Late, and A dollar (or more) short...

I've declared today as my own personal "Mental Health Day".
I remember dog-eared pages in a book;
sent to me by a person that
I have never met
(in person)
Maybe my fate will be the same.
I'll get famous when I am dead.
It happens to the best, that way....
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

BUKOWSKI
Had his own way of putting things
into senseless, yet priceless lines.
The sky draws in a deeper, darker color of blue, white, tinged with red.
Like a suction canister of body fluids, from an operating room.
Tinged with blood.
Breeze, like breath, and the colors move into deeper shades; closing in on us like a fist. When the fist closes, it smashes down and makes thousands and thousands of pieces of glowing shrapnel that we call stars...
And at that time, when it comes - I hope it brings a sense of calm -
and silence -
and nothing else.
_______________________________________________________________________________

Mental Health Day Notes, cont.


I've sat in this spot
most of the day
And I think
how amazing
that someone, somewhere, was doing what I have done all day
But made something out of nothing
And I've got nothing to show for it.



Copyright K. Anne Smith

The Doh-See-Doh swing...

Two Step;
side step
You're avoiding Life (and my eyes)
So I think it's good
That I Leave for awhile
So I can turn up the music
and drive as I smile
And leave you to your misery
Don't understand why you
don't appreciate little things
The sun in the sky
The beauty of ugly
and birds when they sing


Copyright K. Anne Smith

You BEST Remember, Lord - You Can't Break My Broken Wings...

Sometime in the A.M. on May 15, 2010:

Hold my breath in deeply
And the stabbing  pain of my existence
Hits me

This house, is no longer my home
It is an asylum for tainted memories
Every hole in a wall
Is a different memory
A fading glimpse
Of the way life used to be
This house isn’t holy
This house
Is only a memory

Mama struggling
Battling my demons
Bound by some chains
I wish to break free from
These possessions are all I have
Nothing to show
This disappointment, is just that
These things , they mean nothing
And I don’t know what to do
Don’t know where to go
I am never happy in this home

Something to escape
Insanity has given me a taste
Left with nothing but ‘things’
Remember Lord,
You can’t break these broken wings
Nestled comfortably inside my hell,
My cage; unlocked -
These demons to quell.
Nothing to tell
I have nothing to say
I only think when I write
And want the rest to go away.

Years of being trapped
Years of being dependent
Mama’s on the brink now,
Think I’ll always be co-dependent

This place is a wreck,
Very much like my HeAd
Push and push things away
But they remain; they stay

This place is no longer my home
Now it’s time to make a move -
To drag all this along.
So worrisome, so consumed
No relief from this mess
No more pills, only booze
And I fall into a category 4 hurricane
Have these thoughts that I keep inside
Made me more insane?

Wasting my time with words and paper
Wondering if my kids will understand
Why I can’t make the bankroll


Copyright K. Anne Smith

Praying for Rain (1,000 miles deep)

JUNE 5, 2010...

Early in the A.M.

Strange silences fill weird gaps, and thunder rumbles overhead. The sound of persistent rain taps and pours and my soul is open, again.
Drowning out thoughts
As they spill all over this page
As I sit, I squirm
Because there are 3 thousand thoughts
Within the brain

The feeling of being desperately overwhelmed
Is subsiding
And I’ve put all my energy
Into wanting and trying
To make you feel happy

I’ve needed this rain
To wash away the old memory
To rinse away the residue
To water new seeds
To start again
I’d love to steal you away
And leave your worries and your pain
Outside to be cleaned in the pouring rain
Lead a path to a place
You’d find perfect
Strip away all the hurt
To find the beauty you hide inside
And leave myself open and
Let you consume me…



Copyright K. Anne Smith