STREAM OF CONCIOUSNESS

[Editor’s Note: Please welcome my beautiful friend HastyWords. Hasty, as you know from our poetic duets, is quite a talented poet. She makes me look much more talented than I actually am. 

Hasty needs to let a few things out and has sought refuge here where words like shit, fuck, damn, and cock are not only acceptable, but the norm. So this could shape up to be an excellent and foul poem. I like it already! Anyway, if you’re not already following Miss Hasty, get your ass over to her blog and click the ever-powerful follow button for beautiful poetry delivered straight to your inbox.]

I had to step into my alter ego for this post.  I couldn’t bring myself to cuss on my own blog.  It just didn’t feel right at all.  But….Twindaddy encouraged me to find my inner bitch.  Said I needed to take a stand and stop letting others push me around.  Well, I don’t know about any of that because I really love people and I am really forgiving and I really couldn’t stand it if I knew I hurt someone even if that person hurt me…but…for these few moments….I am not me….I am HER.

This is not about one person or one event…don’t even try to guess you know who they are about because it is a mixed-up bowl of fucked up feelings that will never get resolved about many people and events.  My stream of consciousness…

You know that time you wrote to me

Said I was special, that I made you smile

Well funny how those days disappeared

You waited just long enough to hear me say

The feeling was mutual, I loved you…ackkk

That you meant something to me …blah

Those words burn my tongue like acid now

You took the words and set fire to them

Ego inflated…next stop…next girl…goodbye

You know that time you looked at me

After years of knowing you…I finally saw you

It was scary the anger and hostility I saw

All aimed at me, daring me, taunting me

Later I realized that psychopathic stare

I read it right…I am angry I let things happen

That I didn’t understand the extent

Of the evil that hung in the air around you

People were hurt and forever injured

Because I didn’t do something about you

The mother fucking papers…I can’t stand them

The words leap out and cut wounds deeper

In public view they tell the world a story

A fiction that will never be true but is believed

It will live as truth and I find that quite obscene

There is this boy I knew, the boy who said

I will never ever leave no matter how bad things get

Well that is never a promise that can be kept

But I held on to it for so long, I began to believe

The lies it kept, I began to believe the truth of friendship

Then there are those moments spent with those you love

Moments that change things, can’t be forgotten

Moments that happen and turn things rotten

You hit me once, maybe more than that…accidents all

You choked me once…we both cried and said to hell with it all

I confided in my friends…horrible truths…laid myself on the line

The last I heard from you…so long ago…we love you…that is all

Time and again, I am not enough…will never be…enough

It isn’t pessimism that makes me fear being replaced

It is experience; it happens every time, with everyone

I am no angel…I am quite devilish at times…blobbity blah

I can be extremely selfish and full of broken weakness too

I cry…well I used to…back when I actually cared about you

I am a fucked up broken mess…one that spills onto other things

Into other people’s lives and the only thing I regret

Is that I care so fucking much about every single thing

So to end this rant…and this stupid tirade I will simply say

Shit fuck dick piss mother fucking screw bitch whore

Well maybe I will say it again a few more times

But then I will move on…and count these things part of another day

 

44 thoughts on “STREAM OF CONCIOUSNESS

          1. Ummmm….I had to use the cusser’s dictionary to write this post. If you say that 3rd to the last line really quickly it slips very easily off the tongue 🙂 You’re welcome.

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          2. Listen you fuck-nuts waste of space, you life-sized-phlegm statue, you toad humping bilge rat, you freshwater pirate with a booty fetish, you rancid bowl of clam dip, you sweaty taint of a cock-breath bunghole. If I wanted any of your lip, I would scrape it off my zipper! Who gave you permission to fart? If I scraped you off my shoe, I would throw my shoe away. You corn-holed, barnacle-hulled, limp-sailed scow! You vermin-crawling sack of uselessness, you numb-nutted dill pickle, you saliva gargling self-pleasurer. Go into town and get two blow jobs so you can bring me back one, and then I might let you wipe my ass if we run out of toilet paper. I will clean the head (toilets) with your tongue to make your breath smell better. You two-toed, sloth-skulled swill-bather. You ball sack with eyes. Is that crotch rot I smell or are you making cheese in your pants? Take out your dick and I’ll show you something you’ve never seen before. I will show you the other end of that useless appendage. Right before I smack you across the face with it, and then sew it back on with a rusty needle. I will rip your head off and shit down your windpipe. Now get back to work. The fleet is in poet, and all your orifices are still empty. I don’t have to prove anything to you except that I ain’t your daddy. Not that I didn’t…
            okay, I think that is enough for now.

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          3. I was just getting warmed up. And that is just a normal Navy conversation, not real swearing. And it’s been more than thirty years since I practiced. And I just had to beat her, not you… so…

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  1. Poetry is always my way of venting and releasing pretty much everything that I feel. I am sure this was most cathartic. My psychopath wasn’t usually violent, but he left a wake of emotional destruction none the less. Hugs

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  2. Reblogged this on Hastywords and commented:
    Sometimes you just have to be you and when you are the people that surround you… they are gems that sparkle even when there is no light to feed them. Twindaddy, PMAO, all the SW’s, Shackled and Crowned, TRG and so very many more. You guys mean something to me and I appreciate you loving what I feel is the REAL me.

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  3. This is so beautiful. It makes me feel bad to say that because it must have been not only painful to write…but, to go through it in the first place. Thank you for sharing…it helps those of us who might be reeling from similar remnants.
    PS: You even made the swear words sound good 🙂

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  4. I am a sailor; profane is my main.
    Love this
    (And I have been following Hasty for some months now)
    Now I am following you.
    Funny how that all works.
    Cheers,
    Lance

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