If there is a fault in this life its a lack, of time, as I drift towards an enivetable conclusion to my story, this ravaging path of pain I crawl each night is just a piece of the encyclopedia of me, looking back the lines blur, knowing what I'll never do or see tears at the fabric of my being, those foolish little girl dreams are slowly fading into the black and I grieve for what should have been and brooding I've made an art of silent sadness, my hamartia is remembrance not mine but of me.

Selfish and egotistical i know but there it is I've never painted a halo on my head I've never hurt anyone with intent, ok maybe once I hit a bitch but Im not sorry and God will have to make up his mind on my punishment ... not you, oh and I've been judged by people who dont know me and I've sometimes felt the loss of love I've never known, but I have loved deeply faithfully and without a doubt in my mind

I've felt the ripping and tearing as the soul dealing with grief, the loss of friends, family and those furry little buggers that crawled under my feet and into my heart, as a child my best friend was a dog I was given this tiny little bundle to unwrap, a Corgi, just like the queens I'd read a book called Bobo and it seemed a good name for her, In my defense I was only seven.

I've seen great evils fill the world and I look out worried I wont be around to protect the ones I love, that they will never fully understand the things I've done or why I did them and silly me hopes they will but I now know thats just what I do I fall on the sword time and again knowing I do it in the lonely silence of the guf with only the eyes of the saints watching on in wonder, not the good wonder, the wonder where they think ? Shes so not going up.

I'm good with that, me and my god have come to the agreement that when we meet I'll try not to tear his eyes out of his celestial head, if he can forgive my million sins that I repent, even if some of them I shall never remember. Explanations are something I wrestle with but mental illness steals the mind in fugues that are a cancer cawled and mantled with shame.

I danced like a girl in the kitchen tonight with a dog and it was, we danced and that small simple joy, music, filled my heart I felt free, I drifted around like a total nutjob, shit thats right I am a nutjob, smile, I can joke about my schizophrenia, I now own it, not it own me, what I once feared I sometimes now wish it would take its hold giving me respite from reality and ripping away the pain as my heart eats through my chest and my soul burns too bright.

Was that enough, no, no its not and I'm not settling I am at peace with the fact that a second after I'm gone, my children will cry and maybe one day a grandchild maybe a girl, preferably a girl, will bear my name but its also the name of many women before me and she may grow up never knowing me but I already know her and I love her and oh my god, even though I wont. Those beautiful perfect fingers and adorable chubby cheeks will never know the touch of my fingers but through time I send my love to her. There maybe Grandsons and great grandsons and daughters I'll never meet but through their veins a single billion nuclei will sing in strings dancing to fill their veins with life and hope to feel compassion and empathy that will eclipse their beautiful eyes with wonder and for minute slices of time I will gaze back forward in time.

Maybe, one of my kind will walk those streets feeling the heartbeat of the stones time has written its name on, those streets have been calling me since birth but they were never going to know the feel of my soles wondering why I feel this pull fills my waking hours and the drift through the night into the morning, winter has come and with it pain, casting a net of agony through my spine I writhe sometimes vomiting with the pain, don't ever be sorry, don't ever wish another life a different life on me, for if your wish comes true, we will never meet, there will be no crying and no shame, for having no one left to blame nothing is ever the same, that is gold.

I have listed and fallen into the grass of the long sleep and as the fiend of 'phine storms my battlements, I know that I will prevail for a soul free of shame, the lightest touch of the softest dove is the beginning of forever.

End of the beginning or is that part 1

The clouds bleed softly in the coming dawn with a majestic reach the sun tips the stacks and turns yesterday into tomorrow and I know we will meet again because this story though drawing to a close is clawing with words yet to be written and tears yet to be shed.

As my body bucks with pain I know its end is also my own so I embrace it, if only to put pen to pages embossed with gold hoping to be heard if only after my death you read this ? Know living well is an art I've yet to master, I find a silver road of hope guarded by white Nuns and foreign Da's and Bro's.

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My Genesis ... Part 2

As all things come to an end it is the living who are left crying, grieving, I have lived long enough to know the painful bite of grief and to feel its fangs pierce my skin.

I've lived shadow lives for over 26 years and I wasted talents born in my flesh it is only now I know the magnitude of its loss, its here on the steps of regret that I sit ...

Staring at starry skies I see into infinity and beyond, I've lived long enough to know that one of my blood will know the absence of pain, but what of life will they know?  Will it be everlasting, will they know the taste of the stars on their tounges and a living moon in their eyes

Poetry drew me to words and the encouragement of a friend brought me to sentences see its not always been like this once upon a time a little girl grew up in a bubble never penetrated by the evil of the world, I went to church on Sundays I knew only god and the devil was a sermon warning of the dangers of adultery, I sat swinging and a naive innocent child talked to god sometimes pleading with god for what at the time seemed like Great Problems, they were the problems of a lonely child left to devices of sin that lived in a house on the river

A lonely child walked streets free of fear speaking to the elderly often fishing with a few old men and being taught the codes of another dimension, safety no issue until that innocent child grew into a teenager and the filth and evil smeared her face and covered her eyes time and time again. Suffering at the hands of many primordial beasts they never knew they had torn her soul to shreds and the little girl who held a golden belief died, slowly and painfully with each barb.

That girl was never the same she tried to be friends with the beasts but savaging her again and again until she felt nothing anymore, no joy, no sorrow, no fear.

No fear brought with it a courage unequaled that never lay down for no man except the wedding bed and its ministrations, escaping the crystal castle my parents built, I walked into a cruel day and never looked back

What become of the girl ? I am still learning her story you seem to have forgotten that little girl and the young woman she became soulless but never cruel.

Is me.

I'd been numb my whole life until my pen hit page and then oh then I lit it up with lightning and thunder spliting the guts of it and tearing it into a million feathers of ribbons. I found the young woman I'd been cringing from the taunts and snears of those who felt themselves better or prettier.

You bastards made a Monster of me now you can fucking live with it, enough said.

For today ...

End Part 2

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Old Testament ...

The beginning of a part that equals three, who would have thought I'd have so much to say, not me that's for sure, but if your reading this again it meens you've come to hear the rest of the story and funnily I've not yet really started.

Where oh where were we ? I'd left the shores of the river and I'd moved from a life I chose to escape and what seemed at the time, to be a bad situation, in reality it was my last refuge in peace before the storm of life struck me head on.

I've jumped ahead I've just realised, there's big slices of who I was becoming as a teenager, I expect I'm omitting from fear of pain and the worlds of what could have beens that are already crawling at the back of my mind, I grew tall in my early teens so tall that I became a martyr in a sense, there was a girl at primary school she was gifted with special ways and she/the incidence being one of my most vivid memories, what they did to her, I suspect helped shape the young woman I was turned into, watching small children coaxing another into eating their own feces has stayed with me all of my days, I believed by taking the heat for her I was protecting her and I was to a point, they like dingos scrounging a feed, howled in delight at her degradation and appalled I backed away in horror of the spectacle they made of her, only later did guilt and a lack of action torment me.

That's just the start of many instances that I was teased or taunted and one day I remember they lured me down the Ol' Lane with promises of friendship and play, foolish child I was believed them, that child paid under the hard rocks of stone that were thrown and hurled but it wasn't broken skin that scarred it was the innocent heart of a sequestered child. Broken by hateful words from beautiful lips revered by all.

So the small tortures and taunts continued waxing and waning with their severity all the while my family those people meant to love me and stand by me,  never knew, it was my shame and cross and it was the making of the monster that hibernates in the hearts of all men  

That was the first time I saw evil in its pure form and I find myself often wondering if the devil has had his dues paid or is there more just waiting, will the giving of my flesh and the temptation to begin the feeding frenzy on my child soul all over again, be too strong ?

I've decided I don't want to be happy this time round I want to be the silence all things of sound are held up to, I want to find the peace all pray for, most of all I want to be the single voice among seven billion others, that will at last be heard.

My life has in one way or another become  a tapestry of pain and suffering but between the stitches silver webs of joy and hope and love are cross stitched, it's those fine threads I hold onto when the rest of me unravels, those moments of joy I hold to the cold surface of my soul igniting the flame that burns to my core.

In the darkness I write this in I feel shame burn my cheeks, a shame I shouldn't bear but there it is like a long lost friend visiting again ... and I feel sick to my stomach these were words I never expected to share with a soul but again there I am.

Note: In these years of bullying and teasing of a heartache that make an 7 yr old scared of the dark, in those years I met a boy in hospital we became friends and as he hadn't been poisoned by these, I cant find a word for them, he didn't see me through their eyes, those two weeks we shared together healing from our respective wounds, those two weeks unveiled that I wasn't a freak and given the chance I could pretend for a while to be normal, like all the other kids.

Enough for tonight I cant take any more.

End Part 3