LADY GODIVA: The Naked Truth

Sometimes I get lonesome but then I remember… your smoking of cigarettes well past December.   All of your premature ejects.   All of your pathological projects.  Chemicals as scents. How you don’t repent at Lent, familiarity as leisurely bred contempt.  When you tell me where you were, still wonder where you went.  All that money was better spent, and yet you still sent for her? Despicable with a diploma.  Murderous over a GED.   She always asks for a ride and a buck thirty-five,  it was the way she wore a maxi  that devolved you to taxi  and we competed for a Medusa heart.   He hated how I coughed and how she didn’t fart.   So I think I’ll skip the romance, I get more love from my art. 

You were wearing your very dark navy blue windbreaker that had the half zipper and red-orange collar insert over a crisp white t-shirt, light tan kakis, and dark brown leather loafers.  You were extra gleeful that day because your response to me yelling at you on LinkedIn about how we were only ever going to be coworkers and that’s all we were ever going to be was blocking me.  I got stuck at the door because I was trying to be polite and hold the door behind me for someone who ended up being much slower than anticipated and you blindly barreled towards me with singular abandon, loudly and joyfully announcing good morning to everyone in ear shot albeit who you really wanted to say good morning to *was me* and you seized that moment when I was stuck in the doorway to torpedo charge ahead and Adrienne watched the whole scene unfold, horrified as many were by sensing our forbidden secret love because she realized that I was panicked and trapped but your singular hellbent purpose ...

  …juris utriusque doctor? I shoulda known when you burnt me you’d too early leave me. Now you’re mad I’m owned? When how you broke a vow  got all parties disowned? And I’m sorry about the numbers, Baby. Tell your lady, I apologize for them odd odds.  But she’s a Mason in a mansion  and I’m just fire logs in the lodge.  Sure, we could lunch and we could lounge.  Yet when it comes to change? I don’t scrounge.  It’s not logical or chronological  the timing of when each was met.  Plus for one, it’s always hard to lose a man that you’ve won when you never even placed a bet, harder still to love a man …when he’s never around. As silence can be the loudest sound, oh, I’ll bend over so you may kiss  the obsession you miss  so while you abound  in your martial bliss knowing my love  never ceased to grow and can exist?  You can follow.  And I know you’re fallow over this fellow, as I feel an all too familiar shallow shado...

I will have to look into it…I haven’t heard of it. There’s most definitely SOME kind of “parasite” or “parasites” involved…like in the masks and q-tip tests they found these what seriously looks like black metallic thread worms that look a lot like the weird threads found in Morgellons disease (a real thing) which some believe is an alien disease/parasite/skin infection  And then they found a hydra looking thing in the bottom of a discard vaccine vial  And then all the ppl who got jabs w/the vaxx?!—the site was magnetic for weeks!!  And this was info I’d seen over and over and over and over again for months like BitChute and Odysee.  Deeply hidden sites, mass censorship of truly scientific information and research.   The worm things is why I don’t even want to get freaking tested for covid because that q-tip is NOT made from normal cotton, I seen it magnified under a microscope and compared to a real actual q-tip.  The fibers shed and burrow right into fles...

I  want a guy in a pink silk suit who winks a lot and says I’m cute. Sometimes he’d call me Hun, eyes and skin shone like sun, looking at me in my femininity. The infinity of fertility. He was shy but so was I, he’d walk by, I’d catch my breath. Hated when he called me ‘Beth’ until even in silence I knew his step. I’d echo out his hollow and knew his depth. She’s so shallow, he’s so complex.  Been gone two years now, still wonder what comes next.  Two princes to one Tiger King, so take that ring and with much aplomb  speak it so and make it be,  forget your Princess H-bomb and marry me. How do you live in a house without feeling? How do you survive a savage day?  I only want you to love me,  I don’t need to always get my way.  If we both in unison sing we know there’s nothing  either could say.  I’d have you, I’d hold you, I could never dare control you,  you’re ferrel and I like you that way.  Every mood of his face  had ...

My grandpa had died recently.  I found out via a Facebook post and I’m proud of myself for demonstrating some grace as I wasn’t too thrilled to have discovered this information second hand through an electronic social media platform.   I was successfully able to control my emotions (ended up having a severe unanticipated reaction to Wellbutrin back in May 2021) and it was refreshing.  I didn’t let that Monkey Mind get the upper hand this time.  #Accomplishments A lot has happened in my personal life— again —dear readers and albeit I really prefer to actually type, I may start to resort to writing/posting in my blog via my thumbs.  Which isn’t ideal at all but wasting pointless hours on Facebook doesn’t really sound appealing anymore either.  Nor being seated in front of my tv, or hell, seated at all period.  But I apologize, my life seemed to completely go haywire even independent of covid.  I fell off, and in all s...

He got a new pet on my birthday. The same day he found out I was seeing someone else.   Loves her so much. But it don’t add up.  All of your pictures show this puppy…love. Not a happy life.  Not a happy home. Not a happy wife.  Not happy kids. Your sunglasses blinders, your masks lids.  Instead, They show where you hid, up late at night.  When weed kik it. Texting when we shouldn’t have. Saying things better left unsaid. Now like water trapped inside my head.  I remember when you were so excited about those pillows you bought, you told me, you showed me. You mentioned. But now?—practically every picture shared is of this dog, with those same pillows, in what is our sunroom. And you were always an honest loyal man. Or so I thought.  Why do you say you love this dog—but not the wife?   How could you not stir, sit, drink, and think of me every night?  With your watered down proof, a chest full of razors, and your heart a knife?  K...