Bent Words

Bent Words

November 19, 2020

There are very few things in this life that I am sure of. I’m more ready to second guess myself than I am to give myself credit and I tend to assume the guilt before I’ve been considered of the crime, in most cases. But one thing I do know is that The Boy turned out to be a little fucking bitch as far as relationships go.


Hurtful but like father like son.

I think he’s still a good guy because why hold onto resentment or anger and I recall the moments where he was just smitten, brief though they might have been. I’m sure I sucked balls too somehow. It wasn’t that good. And it got worse when he lost respect.

I know the exact turning point.

The night I called you on the phone was the night he was worried for my safety after traveling to and from Shawano in a snowstorm. He checked my phone while I was sleeping and found your number. Confrontation Station in the morning and then it took me WEEKS to get him out of that apartment once he turned on me. Kinder to the cats than to me.

Margaret called me up and asked, “if I didn’t mind,” what had happened. I would not have responded if I didn’t know he was their best friend. I told her everything and she said I must have left something out because it didn’t add up. I didn’t DO anything, I just called someone.


If I had to do it over I wouldn’t have answered to anyone. They were not and are not worth answering to. I miss working with MO and nothing against them but none of that was any of their business. Apparently The Boy was already warned about me and if that’s the fucking case of things, than the world be warned and watch the fuck out! I’m the spook hiding in the dark, ready to fucking pounce!!

Super dangerous old mom over here looking to take over the world. And we all know that adults have a hard time taking care of themselves or dictating their destiny (especially with me on the loose). He was more worried about putting screws in tires than working on a relationship. But, yeah, cage me and I’ll totally just lie there and wait until you take me out for a fucking walk.

I don’t have to convince the world of anything. I wrote about it, cried about it, dissected it through all the years in all these pages. If someone doesn’t know how I feel about them after reading THIS for days and days and years and hours and nights stacked up seven fold, than maybe there’s a bit lacking in the intake.

I don’t remember the day I met K-Dog.

He says it was summer and I was in the parts room and he was helping at Action for a day or a week or something. I don’t recall the exchange of names and parts and information. At all. I remember the day I met The Boy. He rode his bicycle from Motorsports Factory over to the shop to bitch about something and I was the hapless victim sitting in the shop, drinking beer and waiting for the fucking day and the conversation to end.

“Who is this guy?”

“Marc’s buddy.”

“Oh, right on. He’s a whiny little bitch.”

And Ima keep my mouth SHUT from now on.

My peace has been stated. I earned the right to a bit of fucking catharsis after all this time. I get to trip and stumble and hesitate and lose my fucking breath because I gave all of it and more to begin with. I put it all in. ALL THE FUCK IN.

So I do not waiver.

You ask, “Why now?”

I ask, “Why not then?”

Seems to me like everyone is just pretty fucking shitty with their timing.

Or maybe they just lacked the appropriate warning.

SCARY, WIDE-EYED BELIEVER MIGHT TRIP UP IN LIFE SO BE SURE TO DROP IT LIKE IT’S FUCKING HOT THE FIRST SIGN OF UNDULATION! Yeah. Watch out, yo. The only man I have met that has never lived on his own or been responsible for anything more than a motor.

Says more about ya’ll than it does about me so I’m going to take a break and work on THIS instead of worrying about the selfish fools I met so entirely long ago who can’t see beyond their grey fucking fences.

I tried to be the person who looked beyond all that. I tried to be one who understood when others couldn’t. OH I wanted to see it all and see it all I have. I tried to make the sun shine and wind blow about a world of change. I wanted to share my adventures (the ones in my heart, the ones no matter the destination) and I seem to still get greeted with big, tall brick mother fucking walls. I’m done breaking those bricks and fighting for the TINY pieces of brilliance they MIGHT contain! It's not enough. It’s too much work to pull out of people that which they are not willing to give. Let go your grey fucking fence.

We've finished up the filthy war;
We've won what we were fighting for . . .
(Or have we? I don't know).
But anyway I have my wish:
I'm back upon the old Boul' Mich',
And how my heart's aglow!
Though in my coat's an empty sleeve,
Ah! do not think I ever grieve
(The pension for it, I believe,
Will keep me on the go).
So I'll be free to write and write,
And give my soul to sheer delight,
Till joy is almost pain;
To stand aloof and watch the throng,
And worship youth and sing my song
Of faith and hope again;
To seek for beauty everywhere,
To make each day a living prayer
That life may not be vain.
To sing of things that comfort me,
The joy in mother-eyes, the glee
Of little ones at play;
The blessed gentleness of trees,
Of old men dreaming at their ease
Soft afternoons away;
Of violets and swallows' wings,
Of wondrous, ordinary things
In words of every day.
To rhyme of rich and rainy nights,
When like a legion leap the lights
And take the town with gold;
Of taverns quaint where poets dream,
Of cafes gaudily agleam,
And vice that's overbold;
Of crystal shimmer, silver sheen,
Of soft and soothing nicotine,
Of wine that's rich and old,
Of gutters, chimney-tops and stars,
Of apple-carts and motor-cars,
The sordid and sublime;
Of wealth and misery that meet
In every great and little street,
Of glory and of grime;
Of all the living tide that flows --
From princes down to puppet shows --
I'll make my humble rhyme.
So if you like the sort of thing
Of which I also like to sing,
Just give my stuff a look;
And if you don't, no harm is done --
In writing it I've had my fun;
Good luck to you and every one --
And so
Here ends my book.

Written at 5:26 p.m.