Happy Holidays: nothing’s changed

And these are the days I need to scream; the sound, a miscarriage at the top of my throat. So I swallow the rotten, add to the echoes in my stomach. I am bloated. I am bleeding to death from inside out. I drink blood thinners to speed up the process. Such a long process,

Today’s the Day I Learned You’d Died

And how do I save her? The one who loved you better. The one you’d left with, leaving me behind. I’d be fine, without you. Never mind the breakdowns after summer vacation was over— we’d say goodbye for twelve years, and it never got easier for me. You were always okay with sendoffs. I’d cry.

100 Proof

I thought I heard you coming through the car radio, en route to nowhere that really much matters. Train Kept a Rollin’ and I didn’t change the station, even though I’d rather step in soft dog shit with bare feet than listen to Aerosmith. You’d always loved Aerosmith. Now I hate Aerosmith cos you don’t

Zero

September 15— another date to uncelebrate. Your birthday doesn’t total no more. Old age is a fable; I was forced to stop counting at 58. Today, you’re supposed to be 59, but instead you’re fucking zero. Zero. Zero. Zero.   © Kindra M. Austin

I Breathe Still

For a minute or more, I was dead as you, as you were technically dead before the end was absolute— before your brain conceded. For a minute or more, my world was edged in blossoming dark, engrossing, on the cusp of consent. Blackbirds congregated, chattered ‘round my head, and they called dibs on my vital

At Least I Know Now

Tramadol Toxicity— that’s a real bitch-ity. Surely Narcotics are dirty Sarcastics?   High risk for addiction and dependence. Can cause respiratory distress and        h death               g when            i taken in  h doses or combined with other substances, especially alcohol.   You

Hi. I’m an Alcoholic. Nice to Meet You.

Hi. I’m Kindra—alcoholic. It’s been thirsty seconds since my last drink, and thirty nine years since my last confession. I turn forty in December. I’ve kissed a few girls, dropped acid once, finger fucked myself eleventy hundred times, and committed adultery with an Englishman who won’t leave me alone— my pussy is lined with gold.

Eating Dirt

Dirt in my mouth— I’m still spitting grit. I used to play in the driveway with my Big Foot monster truck while Mom and Dad argued in the kitchen; their voices obliterated the window screen and shattered my veins. My bottom lip was always bleeding from punctures pressed by top teeth, bunny sharp. My skin

For the Women I’ve Lost

Nothing scares me. I’ve built my house around those who haunt me. Brick and mortar rises tall—a keep. The older I grow, so does my fortress. Soon, I’ll be left alone to revel in my ghosts in peace. Soon, I’ll be left alone, where I belong. Soon, I’ll be happy in spite of mourning. Soon,

Last Judgement

Come on down from there, if only for a quick minute. The last time I saw you is unsatisfactory in hindsight. Retrospection is a bitch dressed in my skin— I’ve become leprous. I may not pray to God, but I do talk to Jesus. My words fall on dead ears. Christ will not come to