I Love

I Love. . .

The colors of a sunset in Albuquerque, NM.

Walking in Manhattan on a Saturday afternoon in August.

Red Velvet cupcakes with a dollop of frosting on top.

A sip of smooth bourbon as it warms my chest going down.

Crisp Ginger Snaps.

Lavendar lotion at bedtime.

The desert after a rain storm.

A very large sirloin steak, medium rare.

The view from the Laurel Street Bridge of the city lights of Downtown San Diego as the sun sets.

The feel of my throttle pulled back relentlessly.

Shopping in thrift stores.

Poetry.

The feel of real fur on my shoulders, especially mink.

Soft socks and my Hello Kitty Blanket.

Campbells Turkey Vegetable Soup.

Chai Tea with cardamom and honey.

Plays by Tennessee Williams and Screenplays by Billy Wilder

My husband's smile, his crooked teeth and the tips of his fingers.

Riding my motorcycle with wild abandon, laughing madly, for just a moment or two.

That my grandniece climbs on my motorcycle to ride it like it's her own, even though she isn't quite 2- years-old yet.

Jimi Hendrix lyrics and Elizabeth Barret Brownings' poems.

Jupiter by Holst.

The name Prudence.

The smell of my grandson's skin.

The sound of fiddles and banjos on the sidewalk in Knoxville, TN.

Holding my daughter when she comes to me for comfort.

Wearing turquoise, diamonds, sapphires, pearls, white gold and silver.

The laughter in my niece's home of she, her husband and her children.

Tacos, sushi, and fried chicken.

The song, My Funny Valentine.

Alaskan Malamutes and Bull Terriers.

A California beach on a rainy day.

Receiving an unexpected phone call from a friend, just to offer comfort and love.

Strong blue cheese with white truffle honey served with kalamata olives and roasted almonds.

Saying shocking things to people, but hoping I never offend them in the process.

Learning that I have inadvertently helped someone with my story.

The scent of Banana Bread cooking.

A long, warm oil, deep tissue massage.

The scent of star jasmine in the late afternoon.

Waking up early with energy on a day I'll be riding my motorcycle.

The purple that sets into the Rocky Mountains as the sun goes down.

The sound of a real silver spoon against a fine bone china tea cup.

Myself, my past, my future and my life, just as it is, right now.

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Stains of Pain

Cough, cough, cough up the black licorice fire of charcoal vomit from the medicinal spasm in my torturous thoughts.

Think, think, think of the wind soaked blue grey flight nearly leaped from the sunset 8th floor balcony.

Taste, taste, taste the cold blue steel of the 32 mm revolver on my tongue against the brain intended bullet.

Suicide skips this spot today, only to visit again, with hopes to steal the soul of a pain-soaked, willing victim, ready to plunge head first into concrete coffins of city sidewalks, leaving stains of sorrow.

Stains that beg forgiveness from those who cannot comprehend a life of being hunted by pain.

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Knowing The Real

Until you've crested the mountain top

With your mechanical speed between your thighs

Until you've seen the sprawling horizon

With tears flowing from joyful eyes

Until you face the pounding wind

At 80 miles as you ride

Until you face all fellow humans

With nothing left to hide

Until you've veered between the semis

On highways of rubber and steel

You've not known the fear of living

And you've not known what is real

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Fuel of Pain

Choking on fuel

That burns anger,

Pain, resentment,

Spitting of words,

Choking the sobs,

Pointing fingers.

Starving for air.

No room to breathe.

Engine gasping,

Chugging, lurching,

Begging to be,

Understood once.

Motorcycle

Engine stalled,

A breath comes in,

Truth exhales fire,

Burning the room,

And all inside.

All is in ruins,

Fuel everywhere,

Poisoning all,

Soaking through earth,

Paralyzing,

And sets me free.

Air and fuel mix,

The spark ignites,

Engine fires up,

Wheels start turning,

The road ahead,

Open, calling,

Beckoning me.

Escape and Ride

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Fly Black Birds Fly

Pain is Black Birds

They lie under my skin

Come to remind me

Of darkness within

Release the Black Birds

Allow them to fly

Let go of the pain

Goodbye, goodbye

Fly Black Birds Fly

Away from my body

Black Birds take flight

Into the skies

They make the midnight

Release the black thoughts

Pour out the black tears

Black Birds don't belong

In bodies with fears

Fly Black Birds Fly

Black Birds mean no harm

Not meant to be held

Blacken our hearts

Poison our cells

The pain that I feel

Is their struggle to fly

Release the Black Birds

To make the midnight

Fly Black Birds Fly

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Speak Your Fear

Do not crawl inward

And hide within your walls

Reach out with your spirit

And boldly stand up tall

Speak your fear and pain

Open up and cry

Provide it not the shelter

To hold your soul inside

Fear will eat your beauty

And swallow words up whole

Pain will clinch you tightly

And never let up hold

Speak your fear and pain

Draw it into light of day

For in the dark it holds you

And keeps you far away

Diffuse that power o'er you

Boldly cast it out

Hold not your lips silent

Open up and shout

Speak your fear and pain

My love, I beg you try

I promise only comfort

Speak, shout or cry

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Suicide Stalks Me

Suicide is a loathsome stalker who has haunted me most of my life.

My first attempt of suicide occurred when I was 14 years old. I've had 4 serious attempts since that time and thought of it often. This is not something I want to have in my life, but unfortunately, this is the demon that tracks me, attacking me at my weakest moments.

Make no mistake; I want to live. Suicide is a voice in my head that begs me to end the pain from which I find no shelter. He speaks into my ear when I am hopeless.

"No matter what you do, this pain will return. You can change everything about your life, but you'll feel this way again at some point. You'll never be able to completely avoid this. Your only escape is death. You may as well do it now."

This is the demon that follows me from which I long to escape. This is mental illness and while it is treatable, there are no guarantees that it won't return. I make no promises that I won't take my own life one day. Just know, this is not my failure, nor the failure of anyone in my life. No one can prevent this other than God, or me, and only me if I am strong enough.

If I take my life it is because Demon Suicide has caught me and dragged me under and only he is to blame.

I'm not ashamed to admit that I deal with suicidal thoughts. Certainly a societal taboo, this is what keeps so many of us sick and struggling, and often results in death. When one is afraid to divulge this "sinful" illness, one is locked away with only the voice that begs us to take our own lives.

I know he waits for me to stumble. Upon my next emotional crisis, he may be lurking, hiding in the shadows, ready to pounce on me. My only hope is to fortify myself in the good times so as to be as prepared as possible when he returns. I have no doubt this monster will return, as he has so many times in my life. I am resolved to give him my best fight when he does and I hold out hope that one day I will oust him for good.

It has only been my motorcycle which gives me hope that I may outrun him yet.

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