Pieces of Penelope (1987, 21 years old)

Rolling and rolling,
Building and budding,
A cup that’s somehow full,
Bittersweet emotions,
Confusion and peace,
It’s overflowing,
This heart in tears.


Maybe right now I’m just trying to heal all the wounds. That does take time. I just hope it doesn’t take a lifetime. Sometimes that’s my fear … I keep trying to make brass gold when I know it isn’t.


Something heavy is moving in,
Illusive weight without a name,
It hangs on my mind, my heart, my body,
A deep long ago sorrow I thought was gone,
Slowly lurking, easing, teasing its way back
to my attention.


Isn’t it comical the way things change, but sometimes emotions never go away? My life, of course, is different now. I refuse to believe that the relationship isn’t completely over but I can be sorry that it is and that it was so bad. I wish I could change everything but I can’t, and I’m sure it all happened for a purpose. I hope so anyway … I guess only the individual can actually know how to make themselves happy. It’s not up to anyone else to tell them how or try to make them happy. I can’t believe I’ve actually developed some unselfishness compared to the way I used to be. Maybe there’s hope for me yet!


The crooked hand of a hungry hunter,
Pierces his prey through a human heart,
The creatures falls, weakened,
Until a crack forms in its heart,
The hunter’s stream of power and passion,
Soaks, drowns, devours me,
That familiar, glorious triumph he’s learned to love,
For the moment …
The passion gone,
The power dwindling,
He turns and faces what is left of me,
An empty carcass,
The shell of what,
Once upon a time,
I was.


I want to be sweet and unselfish, and just give what I can. It makes me feel so wonderful to want to give and not care about getting. God! I can’t believe how selfish I’ve been in my life … Outcomes are obsolete. The important things is that I’m capable of caring and sharing and feeling. I feel so full of love tonight. I think I need to cry. I feel so sad for all the time I didn’t know what it was all about. I hope I never forget.


Alone is where the me exists,
The one I know,
Feeling others crowd these taciturn restless senses,
The stranger screams,
The me I fear,
Holding emotions paralyzed,
Memories peak,
Their painful piercing arrows through this mind,
Only when I’m close,
To love.


Gifts of light,
These friends,
Like November colors,
Leaves overspreading,
An uncomely selfishness that comes still yet,
The earth of me,
Humanity I fail to hide,
Level friends like composted leaves,
Effortlessly transform this unfruitful, filthy self,
Creating in me unimaginable fertility, beauty, and joy,
The stuff of life,
A garden full in bloom.


A place I found myself,
With you,
Fought so long,
So hard,
They lost all reason,
Piercing bullets
Though my heart,
And platoons of tears
Raiding my camp,
My fortress,
Only to wash my wounds,
Clean of you.


Box of pain,
Filled with stains,
Tattered feelings left to waste,
And wither away until my spring,
That illusive season they say will come …


Am I afraid to care
About anything?
I’ve lost my passion,
I thought I was happy,
From pain,
But now I realize
I’m protected also
From life,
The struggle,
The triumph,
It’s all gone
Or so it seems,
Is this the price
I must pay
For others to say
I’m normal?


Some father’s daughter,
A mommy’s joy,
Sperm to spare,
The golden egg
Just waiting there,
His expenditure,
Mommy’s there,
Daddy’s little girl.


Once again,
I traverse this broken road
Of bitterness, pain, poverty,
To my safe, secure job,
I see the children,
Their tear stained faces,
Barren feet,
Hearts secluded,
A mother holds her coatless child in one arm,
Her cherished cigarette in the other,
“Shut up! Shut up!” she growls,
The tiny spirit beaten,
I catch, perhaps,
I think of my own child,
My own childhood,
As I walk a little faster,
My not-so-perfect life goes on,
As does one child’s lonely hell,
In what seems tomorrow, he is a man,
Desperately seeking,
Only finding me,
Still silently traveling my familiar road,
The road to a nation’s nowhere …


For more pieces of my story, visit these Aberration Nation links:

The Mother Ship
Alone in a Crowd
Curve Ball Salvation
Daddy Didn’t Want Me: An Aberration Story
Pocket Full of Sunshine, Closet Full of Bad

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

Up ↑

%d bloggers like this: