Tick tick tick
It never seemed to stop
It never seemed to slow
Tick tick ticking away at her soul
All the coulda woulda shouldas
She couldn’t let them go
Rushing to and fro
Just a little longer then home
Here and there and everywhere
Her mind was over tasked
Another call another email
Always needing that time and a half
Just to scrape by
Always by the skin of her teeth
Never a restful moment
Always in need of sleep
And what was there to show
For all the years and dedication
Heartbreak debt and loneliness
Nothing to her name
Secret dreams of accidents
A settlement just one
For what’s a couple broken bones
When you could afford to have work done
Maybe just a broken leg
Walking in front of a car
With zero debt and zero fucks
You don’t have to walk very far
Or maybe just a simple trip
A long vacation you could say
A tumble down the stairs
A slight knocking of the skull
When you’re in a drug induced coma
How could her dreams be dull
But snapped back to reality
Tick tick tick and more
She quickly realized she was late
But rushed to finish more
Everyone who knows her
Is sure to understand
In this dog eat dog world
More work is just the cure
For who has time for fun
When you can’t even afford it
Enjoying life is overrated
At least that is what she thought
But too much stress
No happiness
Something’s sure to pop
That only drove her harder
Quickly climbing up that ladder
Up up up ever higher
Where she’d stop no one could know
But something in the back of her mind
Was getting ready to blow
For late nights there were uppers
Although they hardly worked anymore
For just a couple hours of sleep
Downers were the way to go
But emptiness and loneliness
Were always knocking at the door
Sometimes the sound would make her scream
So she’d work and work some more
To drown out thoughts of nothingness
And earn those dollar bills
Just to watch them disappear
Paying off debt and buying pills
Tick tick tick
As more time passes by
The pressure growing in her mind
Steadily on the rise
Sanity declines
At first there was some blurriness
Some things were out of focus
She brushed it off as if age was the culprit
Or maybe lack of sleep was all
If it was still there a day later
She would make a call
The fuzzy shapes would all subside
Life was back to normal
There wasn’t time for any check up
Work was due tomorrow
A headache here
A headache there
Nothing out of the ordinary
Some tingling in her fingers
She must have just slept funny
Tick tick tick
Typing talking always moving
Sometimes her neck felt stiff and sore
Must be her posture
More work more
The first to arrive
The last to leave
You’d think she was the company’s star
But all that work and overtime
Only earned her even more
Time behind her computer
Chained to the office floor
Ever working always harder
More work more
Then comes another headache
Right behind an eye
She wouldn’t let that stop her
She’d work until she’d die
Every day was blurry
Bleeding into the next
Weeks months years
More and more stress
Tick tick tick
Time was rushing fast
But she couldn’t change her ways
Her future was now her past
For one night she was working late
Alone and on her own
The life not lived had ceased to give
Another hint or warning
This pace was not maintainable
She’d be there until morning
The pain struck instantaneously
From inside her head
The pressure building up
Found a way around its dead end
Internally it flowed
Turning gray a darker hue
She tried to scream
Someone help me please
A gurgle was the best she could do
Slumping down
No control of limbs
Gravity was her master
Tick tick tick
Vision blurring ever faster
Time is of the essence now
Although now it didn’t matter
There’s no going back
To change a past
And oh there goes the bladder
One by one each organ
Struggled to maintain function
For the master switch had been flipped
As hemorrhaging took over
All the coulda would shouldas
Flashed by in record time
Would she still get paid for this
She obviously earned her overtime
A silly thought
It was her last
She couldn’t even laugh
Tick tick tick
The darkness settled in
So this is what it feels like
To finally feel at rest
-Bonnie
Time and a Half…
Sleep Study…
It happened again
The final straw
This time she would be laying down the law
For every night
After getting in bed
The sound like thunder would rumble in her head
She’d nudge him
She’d ask him
To move some different way
But no matter the position
The thunder wouldn’t go away
She’d pretend not to hear it
She’d read and play games
One pillow sometimes two
It was loud just the same
She only had three options
But they all came with a price
None of the outcomes would work out nice
She could lay there for hours
Until maybe it stopped
After taking more sleep meds
Finally knocked her out
She could grab up a pillow and blanket
And head to the couch
But she knew this was risky for her health
For if he woke up and noticed her gone
His anger would burst out like a wild hog
He’s call her stupid and a liar
But for what she didn’t know
He’d mumble slurs to himself back to bed
Solely seeing red
So she’d grab up her pillow and blanket
And head back to the room
So she’d lay back down beside him
What else could she do
But his anger would get worse
And he’d just get up and leave
Well now she’s done it
Bitch, why couldn’t you just sleep.
Now tomorrow is going to be another day filled with anger and wrath
All because he snores on his side, stomach, or back
He didn’t kiss her goodnight
Now there will be no kiss good morning
She’ll probably be shunned again
All because of his incessant snoring
She knew that idea was the worst one to choose
She should have just taken it
What’s a few hours of sleep to lose
She could have just kept her mouth shut
Like she did the day before
But tonight she was tired and couldn’t stand hearing it anymore
But there’s always option three
It lingers in her mind
But she could never ever go that route
Not yet not this time
But as the years grow longer
And the sleep becomes less and less
Option three will look better and better
She would be put to the test
What’s a friendly little pillow fight
Between resentful lovers
One pillow two hands
Option three for the smother
But it wouldn’t be easy
There’s be quite the struggle
This lying bitch would be on the floor
Choking in her own bloody puddle
So from now on she’ll just keep choosing
Good ole option one
Then she can continue being called
The grump morning one
At least now the bed is empty
Since he went to the couch instead
The room will be quiet
Now she can rest her little head
-Bonnie
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Catcher of Rainbows…
I am not a writer.
I am not a painter.
I am not a poet.
I am not an electrician.
I am not a homemaker.
I am not religious.
So what the fuck am I? Besides annoying and sarcastic and hilarious? Probably the only thing I excel at being: a Jack of all trades. I would say Jill, but then people look at me all cockeyed, so it’s just easier being a Jack. Master? Nope! Expert? Absolutely not! Genius? Hahaha! No! Scholar?Most definitely nope! So what am I besides being subpar or good enough to do as many things as I possibly can?
Scatterbrained. Absolutely all over the place. You thought I’d use a better term, right? Believe me, I thought maybe philomath would be a good one to use as an all encompassing umbrella term, but when it is synonymous with scholar and genius, I have to say it’s a hard nope. If you’ve never heard of a philomath before, it’s worth the lookup. In a way it does describe me. You just have to knock its seriousness down about ten rungs to that whole Jack/Jill level. Nothings against the Jacks and Jills of the world, because we keep this world moving.
Wanting to learn everything I possibly can comes with a price. I have learned (yeah, ba da dum, tsss) as I’ve gotten older that my brain does not like to shut off. It has its moments of pure, determined focus, but more often than not, it is attempting to catch rainbows. My thoughts are everywhere and nowhere at the same time. I have so many ideas that I can’t seem to recall 90% of them. If I don’t associate your name with something immediately, I will forget it within two minutes of hearing it. If I sit down at a restaurant, and there’s no conversation, I will read everything in range, at least five times, and I will still have to reread the menu to figure out what I want to eat. It is a blessing and a curse. Mostly a curse, but it has given me a divine sense of humor that can come out as mean if I don’t watch myself. Which is also odd, because I am actually a nice person. Annoying, yes! Mean, no! But I can be, so don’t be a dick!
I have learned to write everything down so I don’t forget. I also have to remind myself to remember to write it down, because I will forget to do that too. There are so many things I still want to do, see, and experience in my life, that I no longer have a bucket list. I have a CVS receipt over a mile long. In fact, it’s probably hit the two mile mark at this point, but honestly, I don’t remember where it left off. Obviously the list gets longer each year, because I find myself doing things that aren’t even on my list to begin with. Then I add more to that list that I may or may not get to this year. Or next year. Or ever. Eek!
The desire to learn is strong. I do consider myself pretty damn good at figuring things out. I can Google like a champ, and if I can’t find it on the internet, it most likely doesn’t exist. So there’s that. I love puzzles, cryptograms, word searches, and other random, mind-engaging activities. No. I do not like crosswords, chess, or algebraic equations that use Greek alphanumeric characters that have an assigned, mathematical value. Hell nope! When puzzles are associated with math, like the Rubik’s Cube, I’m out. I can add, multiply, figure out angles, and solve for x. Calculators are my friends. Again. Google is my friend. I can get a max of two sides of that damn cube. So I gotta admit that performing at 33.3…% efficiency is sad. Like, really sad.
And yet I must learn more!
But I never seem to want to learn everything about one thing. I just want to learn something about everything. So that whole curse thing happens here: I learn enough to do whatever task is at hand, and then the desire to learn more vanishes once that particular task is complete. I have a minimum of twenty started projects going at the same time, but two new ones are added each time I complete one. I still owe (not really owe, I enjoy giving a lot) multiple Christmas gifts that I am still in the process of making. I put my heart into everything I do and make, and yet my brain likes to travel elsewhere. It is stressful, exhausting, and it takes its toll on my current, physical and mental state. I get tension headaches nearly every day now, and if I don’t get those under control, they evolve into migraines. Those bad boys like to linger a good three days. I want to get so many things done every day that I don’t seem to have time to finish them. That is, if I even find the time to begin.
Everything is fleeting. My writing comes in waves. My desire to paint is like a storm blowing through. I waste time doing absolutely, nothing worthy of said time. When my body wants nothing more than to sleep, because my eyeballs literally hurt, my brain has other plans. Yay! Puzzles!!! That inspiration to get things done, seems to sputter out midway through just writing out my to-do list. I am a mess.
So why am I writing now? Why am I sharing my nightmare of a mental state with you? Why am I sharing with you the things I enjoy starting and never finishing? Yeah. I don’t know either. Maybe it just helps me organize my thoughts a bit. Maybe I have some deep, philosophical urge to let others know they’re not the only crazy people out there. You are not alone. We are not alone. Know why? Because we are all fucking crazy. Seriously. The quicker you learn that the easier life becomes, because no one thinks the exact same way you or I do. At least we are unique in some way. Ok. Not really. We just like to believe that lie we tell ourselves. We are sooooooooo not unique, and the universe is completely indifferent to our measly, blip of an existence. Even knowing all of that, I still want to learn more. Yes. I’m crazy. But at least I admit it.
Keep doing your crazy. I’ll keep doing mine.
Just don’t be a dick about it.
-Bonnie
Yeah. I can write poetry to scare people, and paint one hell of a bear. I can make a grilled cheese that’ll give you a heart attack ten years down the road (I’m trying to shorten that to five by adding even more butter. I think it’s working), and I can organize like a motha fuckah! I can lay waste to a bag of Dove silky, milk chocolates, and I can get my cat Sausage to “do the thing” which involves getting her to rear up on her stocky little ham hock back legs to get more scratches. Yeah. She’s a special one with her own IG account @catsausage. I can also continue writing random shit about myself, because your level of crazy wants to keep reading it. Sucker! I kid! I appreciate you reading my randomness. I really do. I think it’s fun sharing my weirdness, because you can maybe relate to a fraction of it. If not, I at least hope it was entertaining. Go check out my cat’s page. You know you want to. Just do it. Yes. I am pushing my cat now. You’re welcome. 😉
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Nine Lives…
Part III
He watched and he waited
There could be no hesitating
As she made her way home
All alone
Reflexes were ready
Gotta keep those hands steady
Deep breaths in
Deep breaths out
There could be no doubt
The next moves were so perfectly planned
Up the stairs to her floor
Slowly quietly he crept to her door
Getting in was too easy
He still had his key
Funny she never changed the lock
Obviously a sign
(She’s fated to be mine)
Of course he would have such a thought
His knife at the ready
Remember keep those hands steady
Can’t be too quick there needs to be torture
A heart broken like this
Will make a man sick
Revenge is the only known cure
As she remained oblivious
To his insidiousness
His darkness continued to grow
Harder and harder
He couldn’t take it much longer
This bitch has got to go
He lost focus
One quick moment
A split second was all that it took
He tripped over her cat
Which hissed and spat
Alerting it’s dumb clueless owner
Evil had gotten inside
It could no longer hide
She knew her life would soon be over
What she saw surprised her
A blade meant to be inside her
Was sticking up straight through his chest
Her cat sat beside him
Proud and delighted
Watching blood pool and making a mess
Looks like God’s gift
Hadn’t planned for this
For surely he would have known
His dark inner demon
Was no match for a feline
Dumb fuck you should have stayed home
-Bonnie
Though this story has been dramatized These things happen from time to time. Anger and frustration An excuse for justification That murder is the only way to go Think of a wife best friend brother Sister cousin aunt uncle son daughter Could they be dealing with their own stalker I think it could be said No one wants to end up dead Especially at the hands of a lover So check in on your people Good bad (and or evil) It’s time we took care of each other If they say they are fine You know they are lying No one gets away with that Maybe they need a companion Or just some compassion Take them out to go adopt a cat.
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Nine Lives…
Part II
There she was near the window
Stupid slut at the bar
That dress couldn’t be any tighter
Go on get that dick
Twisted and sick
He waited for her by her car
But she never came out
As he figured out
She went home with a one night stand loser
He would teach them a lesson
One special session
You don’t fuck with a man on a mission
He had laid out a plan
It was almost too easy
A child could get away with such murder
There’d be pain and stifled screaming
It’s hard to speak when you’re not breathing
As he’d tighten the rope around her neck
But that wasn’t cruel enough
Scratch that plan ‘cause it sucked
Back to the drawing board away he went
Those days turned to weeks
The details all tweaked
She’ll soon know she should be with a real man
Now it’s time to go find her
And find her he will
This was exciting
An adventure
A thrill
The rush of the hunt
Now where was that cunt
Ah yes
She’s back at the same bar
So simple
So streamlined
Forever she’ll be mine
He thought about saving her head in his freezer
To gaze every day
Upon her lovely face
Santoku paring or cleaver
The tools he already had
Rope was new thanks dad
Plastic sheeting improvised with contractor bags
Making cleanup a breeze
Mother would be oh so pleased
And out with the garbage she’d go
Picked up the next morning
Compacted and dumped in a hole
Her body wouldn’t be missed
Tainted with semen and piss
Because that’s what those whores liked to do
Opening their mouths wide
Letting those pigs cum inside
Granting them a ten second moment of bliss
Stupid sluts should know better
Always being discarded
It’s their own fault every day
Waking up broken hearted
-Bonnie
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Nine Lives…
Part I
I’m going to tell you a story
A man lost
He was down he was lonely
No matter how hard he tried
And he tried every Friday night
It seemed love would always evade him
One night he was down
With no friends to be found
He decided to venture out on his own
That night he saw her
Couldn’t keep his eyes off her
And convinced her to follow him home
For years he kept trying
But she’d always end up crying
He tried over and over again
To bring back her smile
It had been gone quite a while
He was hoping this wasn’t the end
But she always seemed sad
And he always seemed mad
They were like oil and water
The flames would rise higher
Burning raging fires
Until one night he raised his hand
But he didn’t do it
Too late (and he knew it)
The damage had already been done
And that sadness inside her
Rose up through that fire
It took aim and swung
It was a shock they’d admit
How could either do this
Escalating anger ever higher
She was no longer the woman
He had so long adored
She was an animal
The likes he’d never seen before
He took a step back
Ego attacked
It was karma he thought for sure
The sting on his face
As she departed his place
He knew she’d come back to no more
Once a place full of laughter
That long ago happily ever after
Was now a nightmare behind a closed door
The hours turned to days
He was lost in a haze
How could everything go so wrong
It was just he and himself
He didn’t crave anyone else
His sanity fell away to the floor
How could love do this
He wasn’t abusive
That woman was stupid as fuck
He was a prize
God’s greatest gift
Only one woman could have such luck
To be with a man
Of such class and fine taste
She had been spoiled he thought for sure
But if she wouldn’t be with him
No one else would either
He grabbed his jacket to hunt down that whore
-Bonnie
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Lovely Rafters…
Part IV
It’s hard to imagine how things went so sour
It had begun ever so sweetly
Until this the eleventh hour
For a lover of puzzles cryptics and codes
How did she not see
This pattern so bold
She had allowed this to happen
Every single damn time
Sweet whispers of nothings
I me mine
And she asked herself why do I give love so freely
Am I not worthy
Am I just wash rinse repeating
It would seem it was so
Like an ebb and flow
But how would she stop this insane way of living
And not think of rafters
Wounds forever seeping
Being alone brought freedom it’s true
But then you’re alone with yourself and you
Though there always seemed time for family and friends
Nothing split down the middle
No who what where when
Yet why did she yearn for a love never ending
Alone she would heal
Her heart happily mending
The confidence would build
And she’d think she was ready
To go out on the prowl
Drunken nights on the town
To wake up once again
Just her and her bed
Then one night he’d find her and take her back home
She’d fall and fall hard
Stupid woman you should know
She’d ignore the red flags
They’re nothing love can’t conquer
Oh but they would come back to haunt her
Two years three four
She could take it
What’s one five ten more
But those stabs in the back
And the constant attacks
And the lure of the rope from the rafters
The thoughts were so lovely
Pull up a chair it’s time honey
The knot pressing the back of her skull
But she just couldn’t do it
Stupid heart stupid stupid
As she began to slip out of her noose
A leg that had broken
(Just her luck and she knew it)
Gave way with a snap and came loose
Oh you dumb bitch
Tempting fate like this
How did you think this would go
One final gasp vision was fading
(I’d give this slip a five star rating)
Dangling from those rafters all alone
-Bonnie
Please note this is dark and not my true heart Although life is one hell of a teacher. False love is not worth it you don’t deserve this Please go to a counselor or preacher.
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Lovely Rafters…
Part III
So that is the tale
Of a love turned stale
A woman can only take so much abuse
A heart can beat again
Even though it’s been dead
And its murderer left quite the bruise
If he says he’s an asshole believe him
He won’t change no matter how much you cry
Don’t be a stupid witch
Become what he says when he’s pissed
Here’s to you
You delightfully salty dumb spiteful bitch!
-Bonnie
I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. When creativity strikes I have to run with it before it fades. Even if I get yelled at for basically hanging out in the bathroom for over an hour with a writing bug! It’s fucking stupid to some people…
I am feeling there might be more to this story.
So you may want to keep an eye out…
May love inspire you through life.
And death…
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Lovely Rafters…
Part II
Now you may think that’s the end of this story
But honestly it wasn’t that gory
Figuratively her heart had stopped beating
It gave up though her mind kept on thinking
Of how many places
And how many faces
Were buried across this great land
Places to hide
No more being alive
Those cruel words buried deep in the sand
As time went on
Those thoughts became strong
What if and how and where
Could it be would it be
Is it even worth it
Ssh quiet here he comes
Stupid woman should run
Though this proved to be quite the struggle
If she ran she would lose
But what could she prove
As her mind full of thoughts started to bubble
No more sadness only red
Tears of heartbreak were dead
Replaced by anger and fury
A rage filled her body
But she still wouldn’t run
She was patient no need to hurry
He would bury himself
With no need for help
Could peace replace hate filled voices
So she smiled and laughed
Her heart free at last
Only he could be blamed for his choices…
-Bonnie
Part III…
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Lovely Rafters…
Part I
(There’s no punctuation for a reason)
I’m going to tell you a story
It’s one that doesn’t end well
And though the closing has now been told
It should be quite obvious she didn’t die old.
This woman’s heart is no longer beating
No more tears, no more pain, no more being
Once overflowing with love and a hope of forever
Her heart turned cold, no more happy ever after
She had been beaten down with hate filled words
Which I’m sure to you sounds ridiculously absurd
Getting stabbed in the back
Always under attack she thought hmm
That rope looks quite nice from those rafters
She wasn’t allowed to speak
By doing so she’d only prove to be weak
When her mouth would open
Desperate cries were silently spoken
And every day left her heart all the more
broken
The wounds to her happiness kept seeping
No suture could remedy this bleeding
She tried being indifferent but cared all too much
She was far too soft for this cruel, hard touch
Spiteful things had been done
Is this how some people loved
She was always to blame
Every argument the same
It was her fault she should feel ashamed
She brought it onto herself
It was “never” someone else
Sometimes love isn’t worth the hell
She had dug her own grave
Shallow, but worked just the same
Covered in dirt
(That’s how graves work)
Her heart was no longer a slave
Those rafters I had mentioned
Were the release from her prison
She was now free to haunt the land
But she only caused grieving
No more smiling, no more singing
All because she loved a man.
-Bonnie
Bonnie’s Beach 🏖 