Halfway

I'll meet you halfway father. Thanks to your absence, my love life is a pig, slaughtered; with juicy red blood makes the animal look hotter. No amount of makeup or hookups or do ups will heal the crooks that steal, beg for appeals only to later steal your zeal. Dudes don't care to set fire to your rare sense of self. They act like an elf on the shelf, judging until that nudging is shoving you into a devil's pit.

Thanks to your absence, I've been battling moonlit pricks delusional to the spit and rips on my self esteem. It seems to be that my bloodstream is what makes these vampires scream in delight. They get high as a kite during sunlight and eat you byte by byte, making sure that you feel every pixel of their smite. It's been lethal seeing you after Mayo de Cinco on my 7th birthday. You gave me hell, but I shouldn't dwell on that spell you put me and mother on. I'll never forget the smell of that tiny cell of a room. You smothered my mother, then left her for another.

Thanks to your absence, my mother had her life stripped and you pistol-whipped her lifeless body before me. I wanted to feel an emotion with the commotion and deadly potion you fueled

in my heart. Love turned to hate. So I moved from home to home until I meet this random broad – his name was Tyrone. He was above me, a truelove void of all deception and insincerity. He claimed that he loved me. I was only 14 years old about to get pimped by a simple-minded demon that walked with a limp. Boo hoo poor me! I wallowed self-pity while the city folk were turning me out.

Thanks to your absence, I’m 18 and nothing changed for the better; I’m still under the weather about how this leather and tethered purse heals my soul, body, and mind together. I’m a broken little girl living a shaming claimed life that no amount of taming will solve. I don’t listen to the good then go towards the ricin, toxicity. Where is my savior that ought to correct my sinful behavior? Then something hit me, a devil indeed named Xavier. Only this time, it wasn’t with his claws, but with a chainsaw that gnawed at my rib cage. A battle, sage versus rage was performing inner turmoil on stage. Rage won and so did the wager on my life.

Thanks to your absence, I couldn’t properly walk for 6 months and needed therapy. I spent my birthday grey, bleak and overdosed with pain that weighed in on me. That gave me time to reflect, think about being in sync with my dark soul, call it ink. The amount of spiked rose pink shots that I would drink to forget my pain. Sober wasn’t in my book of knowledge; I was Abel but alcoholism and prostitution were my Cain. It’s time to stop doing something strange for a piece of change and proclaim my self esteem, a dream, and my dignity.

Thanks to your absence, I’ve began reading a book every night in a dark room with a bright flashlight. I’ve also started researching the food that’s good for the soul, fuel to make one whole. After my release from the prison, my fears were arisen when a familiar limp-walking pimp had a gold glistening chain and teeth that smiled upon one’s pain. Tyrone, a memory I’ve thrown away for he bended bones and thrown stones at women showing their tailbone. He was on the phone and waved like he didn’t try to enslave my mental. No revenge! Karma will put an end to his clean clothes, dinge and stench will surround him as he breathes his last breath. I walk on and release like the Supreme Court in Athens, Greece. I let go.

Thanks to your absence, I don’t consume meat, wheat, dairy, or refined sugars. I’ve learned that spiritualty is just as powerful as religion. I’m slowly stopping to talk down drowning in my sad thoughts, my crown was slipping. I started planting fruits and vegetables; a festival of colorful, rich treats I put on a pedestal. Gardening is now a hobby, pause. Gardening is a lifestyle compiled of a trial of waiting awhile for the sun to provide the nutrients I call the cruciate. I’ve lost 50 pounds proving clowns that I’m with the get down of self-improvement. My skin, water, is healthy and clear. My mind, wealthy and most dear to me. I’ve reversed 2 years where my tears released spears of anger and disease, none no longer dear to me.

Thanks to your absence, I look half your age, my mind wise like sage, while I’m burning sage and palo out the window. I’ve invested in crystals, a diamond-encrusted pistol, and now I blowing my whistle instead of a man’s junk from the eastside. We love to see the excellence of evidence made evident from healing from those child wounds. Not just mentally but physically when my health wasn’t in misery, and I even fixed my dental. I don’t depend on anyone, just the higher power above me and a sage. Well, not a sage, but rather the knowledge of one. I’m proud of myself!

Thanks to your absence, I’m free. I don’t get the deed done in a hotel room feeling gloom that my tomb may be carrying. I own my house far from where they buried me, pause. I’d like to think, I’ve died once already. When it’s that time, I’d have to thank all the dank and yanking at my hair. I’d have to thank the spanks and the shanking within the prison you put me in. I’d have to thank my inner riches that were robbed like a bank. If you never scarred me, I’d be bombarded with credit cards, looks, and worthless crooks. You’re the last crook I know; somewhat dear to me. Hate turns to acceptance, now this is my greatest weapon. I’ll meet you halfway father.