joannebest











{September 5, 2015}   Lowering Liquid

jack3

the level lowers quickly,
that dark liquid magnifier,
a bottle lessens to a drop and another cracks open,
see, it’s the weekend you know, and everything must go
according to a fantasy schedule, unshared and unbelievable,
easier to play along till your bones are suddenly screaming from an unintended stumble,
collision unexpected and yes, balance no longer works,
soft reasonable patient words unheard,
slurry mumbled snark, the kind where they’re only kidding and
don’tcha have a sense of humor,
your sanity questions you to shake things up
and a bump grows on your eyebrow, stabby painful and nothing new
lather rinse repeat because it never goes away.
they fight for control but Jack always wins these days,
an occasional visitor who tends to overstay his welcome,
I think he sucks,
but when it’s over no one remembers the demon, just the angel,
all a figment of my imagination

jack

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drunk2
like clockwork
she could set her watch by the sound
of his footsteps lurching
stumbling into walls
tripping over furniture
the sound of glass shattering along with her illusions,
she knew them all by heart,
the crackle of the paper covering the bottle-top opening
the clinking ice cubes rattling against a glass
a long stiff pour followed by a few drops of carbonated sugar water,
the change in the tone of voice
then
music louder and louder and louder
till she came to despise noise,
a disdain for the sound she used to lose herself in
then
momentary silence but for the uneven gait
shambling zombie steps
uneven rhythm growing closer
fumes drifting silent up the stairs
approaching
that’s when she shuts down and crawls into her shell
drunk1
http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/12/09/source-of-anxiety/

AUTHORS NOTE: it’s daily prompt time for me so here you go~ Daily Prompt: A Source of Anxiety by Cheri Lucas Rowlands on December 9, 2013 Write about a noise — or even a silence — that won’t go away. (We’ll let you interpret this in different ways…) Photographers, artists, poets: show us ANXIETY.



{May 18, 2013}   Concentrate

feelings
It was nearly impossible.
It was hard enough trying to come up with a perfect phrase or a snarky comment on a good day.
Just some words strung together in the right order perhaps, but a baby’s breath whisper of her soul went into every word she wrote him.
It flowed out of her with or without her permission and she’d end up naked and exposed on a piece of paper or the soon-to-be-not-blank screen of her laptop.
He was her sanity in a world gone mad.
Her few precious minutes alone, when she could put herself onto the page and be taken away.
That was the glue that held her together.
So that she could be the glue that held everyone else’s lives together.
It was easy when she had silence and calm and her cat Drusilla curled at her feet.
That’s when her thoughts came fast and furious. Sometimes it seemed as if her fingers could barely keep up with her mind.
She turned into a wordsmith and was happy and alive and smiling.
And she sat down to write.
Tonight, it was impossible.
She was good at tuning noise out but when she heard the footsteps on the stairs and saw her husband lurching toward the bed, the unmistakable stench of rum surrounding him as he tried to walk straight, she knew what was in store for her.
She also knew concentrating on which words to use while trying to evade the groping sloppy-drunk man, once the boy she married many years ago, was impossible.
She sighed and closed her laptop which led to a fight which he forgot about 10 minutes later when he began again to grope her and prod her.
She gave in. And hated herself a little bit more for it.

He fell asleep. Snoring loudly of course..
She went back to answering her last note from someone else’s husband.



et cetera