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“See,’ said Mary walking down the private beach that her family owned, her family was from what was known as ‘old’ money in which their family line had been super wealthy for several generations before this from striking it rich with plenty of gold reserves that were found on family property. ‘I’m fine. Everything is in working order. Four legs in working order. Just because they’re horse legs doesn’t change the fact that I’m still me, Mary. Can we drop this nonsense about going to the doctors and scientists who’ll poke and prod me with no clue on what to do? It’s not like they have the full story on centaur workings. Besides dad, we know a veterinarian. Isn’t mom’s brother one? He can take a look at me.”
“That is beside the point Mary,’ said her father. ‘You willingly turned yourself in a centaur, a female centaur. I didn
How to Paint Yourself DepressedChapter 1 -
Allow a slip of the tongue now and then when nobody's looking,
snatch the truth back up and bury it in your pocket
to tumble crumpled into a collection of inky snowflakes in the wash.
Find them again and feel bitter that no one saw their truth.
Cut your heart into breadcrumbs,
spread out for wild animals and left-over the earth,
part of you hoping someone will follow.
Try not to care when they scatter it to the birds.
Hide behind braids of flowers in the garden back,
listen with breath baited for hurried footsteps and searching hands -
a solo game of Marco Polo.
Miss a beautiful afternoon
whispering "I'm here"
choosing to be lost and losing moments.
Hush your heartbeat like a monk's.
Imagine eating monkshood and monkeyhead mushrooms
until it’s quiet for good.
Cross the interstate line that separates dreamtime from the world,
curse the violence of longing for a different life.
Hang a vacant sign over the nape of your neck
smacking against your collarbones
Blanking Out The Bad DaysI don’t like to keep blanking out the bad thoughts
As this means missing out on whole days
In fact weeks, months and years are passing me by
Which tells me this is not just a phase
But that’s not what my loved ones like to believe
They tell me it’s my age and will soon pass
Their turpentine optimism is misplaced
As my future begins to fade like brass
I don’t like to keep blanking out the bad days
But of late I do not have much choice
See anytime someone asks if I’m okay
A tremble can be heard in my voice
Somehow though I always keep it together
Like a jigsaw laid out on a table
But when I am alone I fall to pieces
In a box with a ‘parts missing’ label
I don’t like to keep blanking out the voices
But they question each decision I make
And lure me into troubles as if they’re a puddle
When they turn out to be a lake
That is always just one foot deeper in depth
Than my fragile frame is tall in height
And I know if I keep blanking out th
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