Dot
Calling out into the void
Calling sestra
Do you read this
Do you see my writing
As truthDot - Dorothy - Mother
Let us reminisce
or die -
alone
Sinking
One thousand lifetimes
Captured in words of others
In writing
Of life
Of moments
Now almost extinctBricks crumbling into dust
The rocks once solid
Now quicksand
Beneath meThe sinking
The sinking
The sinking feelingNo feeling
No joy
No sorrow
No moreThe Master calls me
& I consider
…
Complying
dot
I do not miss the one you call Mother
the one that speaks with prior knowledge
the one that speaks in the tounge of others
the one whose children far outnumber
the ones that passed the womb as measured
as regular children are decendants of the crown
as the blessed children of the one before us
I do not miss the one you call Mother
the one in gray tones and grey matter
the one of perm of purchased styling fathomed
whose children far away are scattered &
one with offspring and
another without
yet far apart
yet apart
yet far
yet &
yet
not
at
a
.
semi-
FIVE THOUSAND emails
An inbox overflowing, ignored for a century and counting
Now a mere memory, forgotten & purged this nightThese
Those
NO: I SAY
I CARE NOT
I ADMITand withdraw
again from the world
you know; a world in which I do not belong;
semi-colon / semi-
and
// unloved
pretend
Sometimes I disappear,
like at a bat in daylight approaching,
sometimes I come back,
Looking and finding anew the old
The same;;; a comforting blanket
I wrap around me as I try
once again to remain
The same; the sane
the one
I pretend to be
Each day
Each and every wayI can
