Honest to a fault

My honesty compels me to tell

The rest of the story

The dirty laundry

That only the child of a hopeless

Alcoholic anonymously can know

How I felt ashamed

Scared

Flawed

To my very core

Guilt like a pair of concrete boots

Dragging me down 

To the bottom

Rock bottom

I met you there 

And I wept

While you slept

On the floor

Cigarette still in hand

Like a little flare

A cry for help

In that big empty old house

Now nothing more than a memory

That haunts me still 

No matter how far I run

Away.

Your girl

Kneeling

Feeling small

Excited anticipation

Heart beating faster

Coming closer

Closer

Touching my face

I submit

All yours

Cucumber

A faculty member forgot her keys on the counter of the bookstore, which prompted me to peek up there to see if I could find them.  Not just the keys, but also a big green cucumber lay on the counter as though on display.  Only problem was, we don't sell cucumbers.  In perhaps a moment of less than better judgement, I asked the professor if this was also her cucumber.  She laughed all the way out of the store.  A moment later I was approaching a young woman browsing cosmetics and found myself asking her (again probably not my best judgement) if this was her cucumber.  She said yes, the lady at the salon next door had given it to her for some reason and she was excited to get it home and eat it.  That was the final straw.  My professional facade cracked and I laughed out loud, right in her face.  I couldn't make this stuff up.  

Growing

Stressed and exhausted

Dazed and confused 

Weak and accepting

Fearful and bruised

Rusty and tattered

Restless and used

Beautifully broken

Yesterday's news

Wanting and needing

Hoping and pleading

Loving and living 

Sharing and giving 

Learning and knowing

Ebbing and flowing 

Breathing and slowing

Growing, just growing 

Capsized

As a child I cherished the silly moments we had.  Knowing unconditional love thanks to you dad.  No sarcasm although your lectures could drive anyone mad.  

Now I look around and see so few who care enough to even try. I'm so alone and too afraid to wonder why.  So many songs can make me cry.  Don't die, don't die, please, sigh

The Parent Curse

Monday to Friday I stand by your bed, looking down at your sleepy little head.

You look so peaceful I almost feel bad

Waking you from your deep slumberland.

"Time to get up now, we can't be late,

And it's already a quarter til eight."

"Just five more minutes," I hear you mumble,

And all morning long more grumping and grumbles.

Then finally!  The weekend, at last it is here!

No alarm clocks, no rushing, or traffic to fear.

There's only one thing on the weekend to fix,

You always wake me up at a quarter to six!