When I Left Town

When I left town my eyes were red and swollen. I know what it looks like but I wasn't fucking crying. Red from illness, insomnia, insults.


The way I sleep.

The way I relax.

The way I cook.

The way I work.

Of the three generations of women, I adored the youngest and despised the oldest. The youngest loved me more in return.

I am aware of the inherent worth-- and worthlessness-- of what I do. That's why I place her above me.

These missives of love and hate are part of one package. It's not for you to cherry pick the preponderance of energy that you prefer

Love the totality or leave it, slag.

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