SisterOphelia[at]sapphicvoices.com
Relive my grief everyday of my life because I am too selfish to let it go.
Rebreathe my fresh air because it is too good for me to let you have it.
Reinvent my tired, old self because I am too vain to take me as I am.
Take back that which I gave because I did not realize what I had given away until it was too late.
Throw a temper tantrum because I did not get what I wanted, when I wanted it, but...now that I have it, I do not
want it anymore.
Make me a new something pretty, prettier than yours, because I broke the last one you gave me. I did not like it
as much as I like something new.
Placate me just to keep me from blowing up on you. I just love being the center of your attention.
Feed me. Clothe me. Give me love because it is a material possession to be had...craved but not truly received...not
truly lived but intermittently exemplified.
I want. I need. I love. I do not care what you think because I think about it better.
I am better than you are. If I do not remember or do not believe what you think, then to my world, "it"
does not exist. Nothing exists unless I believe it or see it.
Early age consumerism...make me want more, more, more..."give me more," says a three year old accident.
Accessories sold separately from the rubber doll sold separately from all that is truly necessary in life...more,
more, more.
Need it...want it...give it to me...violated by the mass-market whore that entails the "them" who make
me paranoid.
What makes such emotion rush forth...tantrums...throw them wildly...more, more, more.
Pull it...push it...scream for it...moan...I want it...I need it...more, more, more.
Watching as the cows line up to get their heads chopped off...so naïve...so willing to believe...give me money...you
will get salvation.
Limited time offer...only 13 million left...everyone is getting it, but you don’t have it...yet.
Give it up...you know you want to...however unnecessary...however...quite contrary.
Want it...need it..."phuck" me harder...more, more, more...I crave it...desire it...damn it! Give it
to me, you little whore.
Oh, shit! Left my mind in my other wallet...guess I’ll have to pay your attention the next time we meet...never.
Leech upon my mind...tell them your heart’s one true thing...what is it that makes you crave the more, more, more?
While I wasn’t looking..."They" stole a glance into my past...just when I thought you left...you trampled
on my pretty piece of...grass.
I do what I want until it becomes the norm. Then, I go out and buy something else...because I need more, more,
more.
I feel so dirty...so I’ll whine-ity, whine, whine, whine. Then, when I scream for it, please slap me some more.
You call...tell me you are a whore. What am I supposed to say to you?
You say that you are calling me for help. What am I supposed to do for you?
I can tell you that I love you, which I do. I can tell you that I adore you, which I do too.
What am I supposed to say when you don’t believe my love? Should I say, "Yeah...you’re right. I don’t."
What should I say when you say that you love me? Should I treat you the same way and say, "Sure..." in
that mock-serious tone?
You make love so complicated, but you also make it fun. Should I ever forget what you do for me...I want you to
kill me and run.
I don’t know what to do for you
to know what I will do for you
to know who I will be for you
to see what I can do
to make you know that
you are mine
...forever.
Scratch out my eyes from behind this masque of glee...the façade, which makes me normal.
You ruined my in-road...my method of gaining notoriety for the alias of acceptance.
Rip apart my insides...rending my mind as well as my undying soul.
You stupid bitch!
In closing my diatribe, I reach for another mistake in my life. It used to be so easy to avoid them, but I guess
I am getting slower in my old age.
Sitting next to a tree, I see that it has lived a long life. Its rings, like the lines upon my own face...mark
the changes of time.
I could say that I would gain knowledge from the tree, but I probably won’t. It is only too late that we realize
what mistakes we have made...and what opportunities we give up by not listening to our elders.
Much more than I could ever relate to you, I regret not asking more questions before it was too late. Once the
mind is gone, it can learn naught but the simplest task.
........
It is the inconsistency that angers more than anything. First, you are happy. Then, you are sad...blue...depressed...suicidal...dead.
Acceptance is a virtue...hate a vice, but to some, that is merely opinion. I wish I could teach them the value
of differences, but lucky me! I let it get too far out of control.
Surely, we have learned what the world once forgot...all of our insides are red, wet, and fragile, regardless of
origin.
We are filled with a life-giving goo that permeates the air with a stench bordering on vile...every wall, every
piece of cloth, every human being from the moment of birth can feel it.
All people splatter the same when hit by a car (or other fast moving objects). You’d think that one would loath
the bloody experience of creating it, but some don’t.
Even if you stop to think about your actions, the wrong way will be the wrong way, in fact, if fate wills it so.
........
I draw my final breath from a well that is almost dry...it wails from years of use as vast columns of air force
out.
My last words come out in whispers..."Why? Where did all of the time go...when I blinked my eyes?"
........
The ultimate act...to give one’s life for the moment...the slightest chance that all may know that I am human too.
I take my last bit of energy from the goo to raise my body to elbow’s height...that I might reach the ears to be
heard.
I take the last bursts of air from my stale well to speak beyond the aging, ragged, aching cords that rattle in
a voice box with holes that quiver.
........
It is only too late that we realize what we have lost.
Voices of generations die without being heard...and the cycle repeats.
(lyrics to a song...dedicated to my younger sister)
Little sister, how can I help you with your pain?
Little sister, where did you go? Have I lost you again?
Little sister, no burden will I feel.
Little sister, I know the pain is so...real.
What is in that mind that makes you think there is no other direction?
What is in your heart that keeps you from letting it all spill out...for me to hear?
Little sister, there is a light ahead of you.
Little sister, listen to me because I know this much is true.
The night is at its darkest right before the rise.
It will never be so bad that I cannot help you open your eyes...to see me here with you.
Little sister, you have known me too long to doubt.
Little sister, just let it all spill out...on me.
(not quite poetic)
how do you explain it?
how do you explain it to a straight person?
how do you explain it to a straight person who just happens to be your mother?
WHAT IS IT?
it is the feeling you get when your ex-girlfriend breaks up with you to be with a guy.
it is the feeling that you hate yourself for this...this...heterophobia that you know you shouldn’t feel because...damn
it...you have SUCH an open mind about these things.
it is the feeling that somehow, in some way, you have either done something so right-like brought people from your
"world" into her life that would show her not all men are like the one who raped her or the one who abandoned
her-or something drastically wrong-like turned her off of women forever.
a voice tells you to explain it like this:
think about it from your perspective...
your husband divorces you to be with another man.
you were so sure that he was straight.
he was so sure that he was straight...at least that’s how it appeared.
turn it around please...
and you feel like the world is wrong...sledgehammer to the brain.
I want to love you.
I want to miss you.
I would want to hold you.
I would want to kiss you.
I would want to be with you.
I would want to see you.
I would want all of these things...if I could stand to be near you.
I would feel like a shit for being at ease, but baby, I am happy. Can you understand me?
I would feel the same absence that you profess to feel.
I would feel the same way...if my love had been real.
I really did love you...just more like a sister.
I really did want you...for a second I guess.
I really wanted to hold you (...and dear god! I kissed her.)
If I really had...damn it! What a mess.
(...And the moral of the story is, children: always tell the truth, even if you think it will hurt.)
right comes nothing out say i...
nothing i say comes out right....
end matters in the do nothing i...
nothing i do matters in the end...
fall heart crumbles time tears, and piece my one as at a these...
and as these tears fall, my heart crumbles one piece at a time...
through blood, broken flows feel and i as this me...
and as this blood flows through me, i feel broken...
bubble hurts these and thoughts, more the it all as up...
and as these thoughts bubble up, it hurts all the more...
my flows through veins nothing...
nothing flows through my veins...
out cry to me makes want nothing...
nothing makes me want to cry out...
warm an empty creates where once nothing i was space...
nothing creates an empty space where i was once warm...
sleeps i and as this, my write mind...
and as i write this, my mind sleeps...
dream as my emotions sleeps, and a mind dance about in my...
and as my mind sleeps, my emotions dance about in a dream...
let speak i and emotions forward, step as my them...
and as my emotions step forward, i let them speak...
as courage speak away, i runs and let them...
and as i let them speak, courage runs away...
i really scared...mean too what say to...
too scared to say...what i really mean...
afraid of what too is really there to tell...
too afraid to tell of what is really there...
broken these tears, and as am i fall...
and as these tears fall, i am broken...
nothing these tears away, wash and they as fall...
and as these tears fall, they wash nothing away...
hope these tears no longer, as am i able to fall...
as these tears fall, i am no longer able to hope...
fall these day, as darken they the tears...
as these tears fall, they darken the day...
night the mind, as my begins sleeps...
as my mind sleeps, the night begins...
think no more mind sleeps, i can as my...
as my mind sleeps, i can think no more...
mind pain, washes sleeps the over me as my...
as my mind sleeps, the pain washes over me...
broken body lie, and as i falls down my...
and as my body falls, i lie down broken...
If you have enjoyed Kelly Ferguson's Poetry, then please be certain to e-mail her at SisterOphelia[at]sapphicvoices.com and thank her for posting her Work.
Click here for a list of all of Kelly Ferguson's Stories and Poetry at Sapphic Voices Authoresses.
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