Widow. Single Mom. Happily sad, or sadily glad? I don't know.

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  • vondutchess 2d

    The Rain

    The cold, cold rain
    Christens my soul
    Reminds me that real,
    Is pain

    The cold, cold rain
    Drags my knees
    To the ground...
    Until I am the only
    Holy sound
    Until I am the only
    Thing left
    Reverberating in my
    Fucking brain...

    The cold, cold rain
    Reminds me, in vain
    I need to clean myself
    For I am the stain

  • vondutchess 2w

    If tragedy makes one ice cold, I'm a fucking glacier.
    You weren't the only one who died that day.
    I have one foot in the fucking grave, and no want to stay here.
    The nothing in everything, is what we must lose to attain the wisdom, that doesn't come without monumental pain.
    How can you experience everything, if you've never Experienced nothing?
    When the only thing in your bed is your loneliness, and the unreachable dreams in your head. Pitch black, with the shutters wide open. I'm drowning in all the fucking hope.

    Cutting open the edge of my life with this rusty knife...
    How do I feel?
    I don't.
    Hold my demons, please...
    They're getting so damn heavy.
    Spare me the indignity
    of survival.
    I've always been my biggest rival but it's hard to contend with all of your betrayal.
    The air in here has gotten so stale.
    No, I know...
    Of course, you can't stay...
    Please, can I have a washcloth to wipe these years away?

    Fuck me, and this soft spot I have, for hardened people.
    Every day, I live an unwritten novel but I can't tell the whole story because I'm terrified to break the bottle that carries the secrets of my struggle.

    Cold breezes remind me of your presence, frigid and uncomfortable. I shudder at the light passing of a heavy memory on the back of my neck.
    How long does it take to clean this mess because it's been forty years and I still haven't found the energy to iron my dress.

    There's a whole lotta stars between you and I,
    And I can't tell if my fingertips are gripping the edge of this cliff, or if I am holding the cliff from falling into the sky...
    Eyes dark, shot with blood, and black as night on the underside...
    There ain't no sunshine...
    When you're mine.

  • vondutchess 3w

    This ocean is so much goddamn deeper than anyone knows.
    Mixed into all the unimportant drivel, are details that are paid no mind... But she occasionally throws out a bone, and silently begs that someone picks it up and takes her home.
    Hopeless hopes, and dreams lost in daylight. The darkest corners hold her biggest aspirations but they angrily churn in wait, hidden in the swells of this turbid water.
    Midnight breaths of moonlight are the scent of babies, raining sleep on my shoulder.
    I long to traverse the linear mountains of clouds that line the skies, like sand dunes that never grow old...
    I won't stop until I reach the moon. I'll caress her craters and run my fingertips along their ridges. I'll pause, and carefully listen until I hear all she has to say, and I hope it contradicts everything this wretched world has fucking taught me.
    I want to hear that it's ok to be what the mirror reflects back for us to see. That it's ok for me to not be everything they want me to be. That it's fucking ok to sometimes be failing, and that I don't have to do everything perfectly.
    I want to be told how I am in the cosmos and the cosmos are in me, and that imperfect stardust is all any of us should ever be expected to be.
    We are the ocean floors, to the seven wonders of the world, and all the way to the black holes we'll never get to explore, so...
    I don't think I'll listen to what the wolves tell me today. I want to sit in silence until I can finally hear what the hell it is that I have to say.

  • vondutchess 3w

    The demons, we see.
    The goodness lurking
    in the shadows is what
    Is frightening. They're
    the ones who hurt me.

  • vondutchess 3w

    Spiritual Exhaustion Tightens it's grip, while I maintain balance and try not to slip...

  • vondutchess 3w

    Why can't people love me.
    Probably just another bad seed story.
    Put together so imperfectly.
    You could call it destiny,
    That this ride was only meant to have one seat.
    But It's fucking lonely in this sea of the seemingly happy.

    What do they see when they look at me.
    Even the guy that claimed to be a soulmate, eventually
    Couldn't bare the sight of this ghastly...
    It can't just be happenstance, that nobody seems to be able to last more than a few minutes in my fucking presence.
    How the fuck do you plan a life around absolute goddamn emptiness.

    What do they hear, when I actually speak.
    Am I so irritating that their ear canals collapse, their eardrums fucking break.
    Am I just that much of a goddamn freak.
    How do I break...
    Out of this illusion that I was ever worth a goddamn to begin with, and Not just worth the effort to sneak me around.
    This repeating pattern is uncanny.
    Human spam...
    I Peak their interest just long enough to raise a brow, and end up in the fucking trash.
    Just slit my goddamn throat already, and turn me to ash because I'm sick of being just part of people's private stash.
    The thing they don't tell friends about.
    Another skeleton in the closets of people who's pride is just so fucking abundant.

    There's nothing left.
    I'm too broken.
    I'm a never was, not even a Has been.
    Just a fucking token of the bullshit they've spoken.
    It's funny, how the voices in my head sound just like all the people I've known...
    Not just strangers, or nonsense in the mirrors that are shrouded in smoke.
    Always in the background,
    The shit they talk is the soundtrack of the me that never felt like she even existed.

    I know it sounds twisted.
    I know... I know, I'm just full of fucking shit.
    What should one think though, when every time she goes out on that half broken limb, to not say anything... Just don't fuckin say shit.
    Nobody needs to know.
    It's always, it's none of their business, and I should grit my teeth and bare it...
    Don't give me pity lines cuz you feel fucking sorry for my bullshit.
    Just tell me why...
    Nobody has been able to love me.

  • vondutchess 3w

    One story up, and overlooking downtown.
    A vantage over all that surrounds me.
    Waves of bass rattling from inside, switch to rattling trunk lids, parked in the waysides.
    Traffic lights begin to flash, as the sunset passes the horizon.
    Seas of whiskey breath, and the occasional handgun death.
    Bomb shots and cheap high heels snudging down broken sidewalks, and all these derelict drunks have no idea how I watch over them.
    The occasional cop rolls on by, paying no mind to that BMW with a burnt out headlight.
    Everything in my sights but I am distracted by these women in a bar-front fist fight over a man that was never in the first place, worth either of their time.
    Nobody floating past looks like the rockstar they see in the club mirror. So specifically tattered, that you can tell the difference between who threw up, and who went in the back to deep throat a bouncer.
    The scorn on so many faces of those unable to make it happen. Couldn't solidify the one-night, don't tell me your name, walk of shame. Frustrated, they are always the loudest in the groups of glitter mange, as if to proclaim they don't mind rejection, and won't be going home to cry.
    One by one, the watering holes dim their lights.
    Last call is shouted on repeat, and the hyenas come awkwardly footed, out into the streets.
    Groups of polo shirt wearing dude-bros high five like... The bathroom blowy they brag of was anything other than holding her hair while she vomited, after choking.
    The watered down Jaeger bomb yellow of everyone's eyes glow like werewolves breaking through the tree lines. Coming out under the street lights for one more try to bag that hottie that was seemingly giving them the eye, when in reality, he was just so drunk that he couldn't see straight.
    Watching the guy who slouches down the length of his car, about to get in and drive.
    I really hope he makes it home alive. Stories of the ones who didn't survive make me sick inside.
    That girl, passed out on the roadside, who's friends will let the cops take her to the hospital, and all go home to their own warm beds, will wake up in a few hours, with zero recollection of what in the actual fuck just happened to her. The line up of questions to follow this event are sure to haunt, as she'll never know the real story. If she just passed out, or ended up raped. At least with her life, she escaped... This time.
    My observation tower renders a power, to be a watchful mind, and learn what humans really are...
    Animals. Feral, when drunk. All inhibitions locked tight into magicians trunks.
    No innocent, am I. Gone home and cried, gotten behind the wheel to drive, and the occasional drunken fist fight, I understand the plight, to forget it all for just a single night.
    This bird'snest view allows me to reflect on what the fuck kind of mess I was living in, what kind of distress. Misery, and the company she brings are such a two-faced mistress. A double-edged coward. We are our own piercing swords. All following the stumbling horde...
    Ending up in someone's holy shit story, who's watching you, from this second floor, window of mourning.

  • vondutchess 4w

    New year, new... Nothing.
    Every single moment, a new version of myself to cypher through.
    Each pain free second, bought and paid for by
    Burrying myself in momentary weakness.
    Piercing screams do not sound like my own
    But that of a thousand, inconsolable infants.
    Nuances of happiness stab my unhealing peace,
    And photographs of a non-existent life, strewn about my mind are fire.
    My song is knots of guilt in my stomach,
    Infatuated with the dark worlds I paint in my mind.
    Fate is the jealous friend, that tries to destroy you at every corner.
    Dreamstates, filtered through dirty lenses.
    Inner battles are bombs exploding at my fingertips,
    Existential moments in every bad decision.
    Romancing death, I covet it's cheek in my hand.
    Bursts of anger melt as firey tears down my red face.
    Togetherness with myself is a far off dream,
    As each bittersweet turn is a new chapter to

  • vondutchess 4w


    You try to sleep thru this animosity because you don't have to lie awake at night wondering 'how to be a different me', for a society that scoffs at individuality.
    You wish for a world similar to that, in your eyes, "was easier, simpler"... Easier to whom? To whom it is solely fucking catered... To you.
    Go ahead, Look in that fucking mirror.. Maybe, when you burn thru your own lies, with your own goddamn eyes, you'll finally see the big picture, much clearer. Have you ever been scared standing here, right here in front of this mirror... Is the first feeling everyday about your skin, your face, your hair, or do you have to look to darker faces, in darker places? You ever ask your reflection just why the fuck that is? What did they teach you in your history class? What did they teach you at home, your mom and dad? I mean, what the fuck would you do if some people were goddamn plaid? Stripes, in every color your bargain store crayon box had.
    How many times have you looked in the mirror, and wished you'd see someone who was much thinner? If you've never looked at yourself and thought, now there's a fuckin winner? When you didn't grow up hearing how pretty you are, you have no basis for comparison, other than you're worth less than those who 'have it all'.
    When is the last time you pretended to eat. Lied, to say you were full because the last thing you want is all of the calories on this goddamn dinner plate. When you look at the scale, and every time it's a battle, that ends in a stalemate because it never tells you what you want... When all that goddamn mirror ever shows you, is a fat fucking clot. Ever get secretly excited, quietly in your head, about sneaking to the bathroom and puking it out instead? When that's the only way you know, to love yourself.
    How many times have you looked in the mirror, and thought about shaving every square inch of your body, except your head because that's what social stands said? Shaved every visible skin thread and walked around for the next week feeling like an itchy, burny fucking pin cushion because this is what we're told is sexy, instead... Instead of being natural, while laying next to someone in your own godforsaken bed. Remove the human from your body, remove the human from your head.
    Have you ever looked in the mirror, and watched yourself cry...
    Watched yourself cry...
    Watched yourself Fucking cry, while conversing with the voices in your head about all the stellar ways to die? Who would show up to your funeral, dressed in traditional lies. Stand by your side, and give bullshit speeches about, 'but we loved him, he was such a great guy!' it makes me nauseous, and want to crawl back inside whatever hell from which my parents forces collided.
    Have you ever gotten drunk, so drunk that you drown? You drown those sorrows so deep down, that you think they're gone. Until, you wake up again with bloodshots of Jaeger in the whites of your eyes, and chunks of your soul dried to the floor that surrounds the toilet bowl.
    Have you had nights where you did so many drugs, that you finally felt normal... Felt fucking cool? Like, that's what it took to fit in. Stripping yourself of your dignity, to make doors fucking open. Done so many drugs, you don't even know who the fuck you are anymore. The reflection in that goddamn mirror isn't someone who's name you even know. So, you punch them in the fucking face, turn, crunching your boots on shattered glass, and walk out the fucking door.
    Have you ever just wished you were dead? That they'd ask be better off, instead... If you were just gone. No more you, no more song. No more reasons to have suffered this long.

    Just... Gone.

  • vondutchess 6w

    When you're swimming... Do you float?
    I don't. I sink. Every time.
    Always on the brink...
    Of drowning.
    Even when I'm smiling, I'm frowning.
    I feel like such a downer but people are always surrounding, and crowding me.
    They think I can save them but I'm just as broken.
    I can't fix everyone, I CAN'T FIX EVERYTHING.
    They say I'm so inspiring but I hate that they look up to me for nothing but surviving.
    Wanna hit my pipe because you'll feel just like you're swimming. Like, you're flying.
    This isn't winning.
    Don't fucking be like me.
    What the hell are you thinking?
    I'm the goddamn Titanic. Frantic, Panicked.
    My mind is filled with static.
    I'm not a bad bitch.
    Sure, I'll make you laugh but it's just a fuckin mask.
    How can you not see my arms, how they're flailing.
    That I can't breathe.
    That I'm not me...
    That I'm fuckin sinking?