Mirth to Woah.

I was devastated when they said my depression had lifted. What shall I do now, I wondered, when opportunity accosts me in the street?

Depression had always been my escape route. "I can’t do that" I would mournfully sigh, leaning on my bucket of Prozac "I’m depressed", and opportunity would bother me no more. But the depression has lifted. The ace up my sleeve has been ruthlessly removed. My crutches kicked out from under me.

I am completely screwed.

Got My Guard Up

He is my favorite. He is my favorite guard and I'm going to tell you why. He is big. He is beautiful. He is young. He is dedicated. And a little slow.
He waits for me. He waits for me, that guard does. And I am glad to see him.
When I put my key in the door in the pre dawn hours and I see his muscular body sitting in the darken office, my morning instantly brightens. I know the hours between 4 and 6 will start gentle, the way nature intended.
I pour myself into the chair across from his and sigh. That is all he needs from me, only a sigh.
He does not speak to me at first. But when he does turn toward me, and he always does, his movements are liquid.
And then his smile. His smile warms me. Like a blanket unfolding it's self around me, his smile draws me in, before he begins.
His voice is amiable in my ear. Low and smooth his words greet me. He speaks of beautiful things. Places that bring him joy. Idea's that bring him passion. Thoughts I yearn to hear more of.
We sit there together in that office behind the one way glass watching the heart of the facility stir to life. I watch the cooks create the breakfast and he makes sure we are safe. He is the first person I see in the morning and I the last he sees at night. He needs someone to talk too, and all I can do is listen. We are a good pair, he and I. We are a good pair. He will tell you that, and I will only nod when he does.

Stardust and Golden

I want to be Bohemian
burn my heels and tie
tell the man to kiss my ass
revolution on my mind

I'll pry the name off my door
use it for a rolling tray
picture the company VP naked
wait I do it anyway

Dine on scavenged Ramon
for my breakfast say two
hunt your own food kitty
the monies kinda thin

Cut my own hair way off short
all appearance indifferent
(like I give a shit now)
drop my clothes on a whim
and bath infrequently

Practing cursing the repo man
gimme shelter - let me in
name my next spawn JackCat Dylan Brown
sell my home made granola for free in town.

Live with no direction home
Time to do my own thing
Beautiful, my revaluation
I wonder if I can.



*i know it doesn't rhyme, make sense or flow. i'm a freakin hippie now, i can do what i want.

Unsent Letter

Dear You,

I will confess to having been obsessed lately, thinking day and night and all points inbetween of what physical object I can possibly send you to accompany these failed missives of apathy and torment, written with such diligence and care before they are torn up and thrown dismissively into the flames.

This morning, as I lay under my cover, it came to me in a blinding flash of inspiration. I am going to send you the first sight that meets my gaze upon waking.

Enclosed: one pair of eyelids.

Please observe the back of them, for this is what I see before I force myself to open my eyes and face yet another day. Note the flickering swirls of colour, the fluctuating nerves of delicate skin, the sticky residue of sleep crystals gathered at the edges.

Since I can no longer close my eyes, you should fully expect your next letter to be tightly wrapped around a package containing the ghostly dance of car headlights that float across my bedroom ceiling at night. I know you treasure each and every gift I send, but please be sure to always take extra special care of them as if they were your own - though I am well aware that you are now living in the desert and have not seen a car headlight or even a human being for some fifteen years.

Hope you are well, that the weather is clement, that the sands are shifting, that the solitude is proving invigorating rather than maddening, and that there are no further signs of plagues of locusts. I don’t wish you were here. Not especially, anyway.

Maddenly Yours Forever,

Munkays Pubis Service Announcement-7

So you are suprised to find a little bit of red hair in your shower
face it- your baby is a tweenager
Talk to someone, mother of strawberry blond

Munkays Public Service Anouncement-6

If ice cream is your best friend
embrace the relationship
because brain freeze hurts much less than loneliness

Munkays Public Service Announcement-5

If you are feeling bad about having to work on mothers day-
Fire someone.
Warm yourself up the day before by axing Stewie the driver for showing up smelling like a bartenders pour mat.
Then pick the morning cook who likes to spend her day screaming obscenities at inmates and reading romance novels.
Do it. It will make the world and your day, better.

Munkays Public Srvice Announcement-4

If you work at a historic inn reputed to be haunted don't run off scared.
Instead run down into the basement coal furnace room turned wine cellar bar every chance you get.
Alternate yelling, "Dang it's cold in here. Isn't anyone tending the fire in the work house?" and "Hey Buddy, I'm just coming for a bottle of wine, know where there is a nice merlow? Don't hurt me."
Tell the owners you've cleaned the kitchen from top to bottom you've yet to find the origin of that poopy diaper smell. Blame the ghost if you have to.

Munkays Public Service Announcement-3

When everyone at your job hates and wants to kill you
Don't stress.
Put a spring in your step,
Take a stroll around your work space,
Pull your chin up-
And Whistle. (don't stop)
Next person you encounter with a dumb shit question or demand
will believe you are the craziest motherfucker around
And leave you the hell alone.

Munkays Public Service Announcement 2

When your in an "it" restaurant, in the good part of town, say no to a $15. brownie.

No brownie is worth that.

Even if your best stomach says things like,

"C'mon man. When are you going to get another $15 dollar damn brownie."

Just walk away.

Munkays Public Service Announcement-1

Spay and neuter your pets.

Permanent contraception makes you a responsible animal owner.

And go the extra mile, sharpen your can opener before you do.

The residual alcohol will double as a disinfectant.

Gone to the Dogs

Too busy to write so go here. That was a command Spike.

http://www.cafepress.com/dogdammit


Then maybe I'll rub your belly if you are good.

Everything is not Enough

Why won't he love me. Why won't he love me. I asked myself that daily. I am deserving. I am good. I've done and been everything I possibly could. Protected him. Stuck up for him when everyone else was against him and I myself didn't even totally believe in him.
I put him before my own personal welfare. My love for him has robbed me of my sleep. My health. Put his needs before my own. All I get from the him is disdain.
I have betrayed my husband for this male. Compromised my integrity. Lowered my self to enabler status.
I lay with him and him alone . It is a troubled rest. The best I can get from his lips is half hearted "wow" in the early morning hours.
I am just not what he needs. I am not wild.

The Pre Game Game.

Every morning, the goal is to open your eyes before your brother. You can't use any alarms or wake up calls. Just the strategy you take down into your unconsciousness with you. It doesn't count if you wake up before 5. You're allowed to wake up before 5 if you want and wait for the clock to click past 4:59. But you can't make a move before . (Mom will hear you and awake very angry.) This has often led to the two of you waking at around 4:45 and then just snugly planing your execution for fifteen minutes, waiting to spring down the hall into action. Nowadays though, it's gotten so routine that you both sometimes sleep as late as 8 AM before one of you wakes up and runs off into the basement to game. You're both really busy too, so it's rare that a real match comes about. Usually, the one who wakes up late just lets himself take his time so he can get into the shower first (he has hid the controllers). Maybe once a month, you'll both put up a good fight, but both of you would say it's just for old time's sake. Anyway, today when you woke up, you saw that the clock said 7:12. You raced past your brothers room and toss the cat onto the center of an empty bed. An air born cat to the gut is the fastest way to announce your early morning gaming advantage to unconscious sibling. But your brother never came home last night. And he's still not home.

He fell in love. He's 38. Your 44.