2010-12-05 - 12:14 a.m.

millions of miles and months
you are still a voice on a telephone
knowing me (how frightening)
quantify time, backspace, delete, restart
i grow strong like a tropical plant
thick oily to touch leaves, wide
reaching out, reaching tall
thick fibrous base
i tower above you, my frantic energy
i am a house plant you will never own again
i will never come back to your dark cave that is an apartment in red hook
where a man punched you on the face
where it lead to vicodins that lead to more unknown painkillers, that lead to cocaine off craigslist
i will never be the girlfriend that cries on the telephone, begging you, saying that you were supposed to be the father of my mentally disabled children
there is movement in my life for the first time.
and it brings me great strength to know that, to bring that to the conversation
because it was not always that way.
i may still be broke.
i may still have a messy room, 5 months later.
i may still not have a bed, 8 months later.
but there is movement in other areas
a swimming pool, look close into the artificial blue water and stare into that swirling torrent of water where it is still all around it
it is caused by someone treading water

i forgot to tell you that i'm still angry and let down that you chose not to visit me in the psych ward. you failed as a friend, and you failed as a boyfriend there.