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Poetry: Waiting for the Impossible to Happen

Aqui esta la version en Espanol de este poema:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/?p=1929

I wait and wait for the impossible to happen
for me to fall in love again
even though I’ve sworn off romance forever
because of the catastrophic emotional earthquake
that takes place within me
everytime a lover stops loving me
but the romantic in me refuses to die
and won’t listen to logic
she tells me, “it would be truly tragic to deny
yourself another love story, you never know,
the next one could be your happy ending”

Posted on by pattytacuri

The Work Blues

I’ve made taking selfies at work part of my routine at work
I bring style, beauty, and entertainment to my job-they’re lucky to have me

Do you enjoy your job?

It’s a moody Monday full of dread and adult angst
but to work I go even though I don’t want to
I’m rather stay home creating new worlds
that bleed from my mind
in my sweats and sans bra
but bills need to be paid
so I put on appropriate attire to face
my Monday to Friday hostage situation
put on my customer service voice I’ve perfected
and turn on my fake positivity
all because my passion doesn’t pay the bills yet
but it’s okay, i say to myself
because this hostage situation
is temporary

Posted on by pattytacuri

Poesía: Posponer Nuestro Fin

Here is the English version of this poem:

https://lifeonthebpd.com/2023/01/09/poetry-silence-3/

me acuesto junto a ti en un silencio severo
Pospongo y pospongo
lo que tengo que decirte
y siento la culpa en mi estomago
y quiero sentir alivio de esto
pero como te confieso mi infidelidad
sin destruir tu alma
“te amo pero me acosté con alguien,
nunca fue mi intención herirte”
todo suena tan estupido
y la cobardía me consume
no quiero leer la devastación en tu cara
al confesarme
mejor esperare
quizás te mandaré un correo electrónic

Posted on by pattytacuri · 3 Comments

Poetry: Last Day of 40

I wrote this poem in February of 2022.

me on the last day of 40

Last day of 40 and it feels like the longest year of my life
My 4th decade started with the miracle of what I thought was true love
But nope-it was another story of disillusionment and loss
growth and progress became the theme in my 40th year
I beat a 15 year driving phobia and made art from heartbreak and trauma
and I’m no longer scared to live my truth out loud
with my family, friends, and my online community
I also learned I was enough and complete by myself
and never needed someone to validate my existence
And as year 40 closes,I’m amazed by my creativity and resilience
and how time and time again I turn my trauma and grief
into the ultimate comeback story
For year 41,I hope to continue to thrive with calm and tranquility
and enjoy the magic I found within

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

Poetry: Existing

I wrote this poem in February of 2022.

Existing was this never ending sorrow
Existing was a “what the point of it all” status
Existing was a horrible and exhausting nightmare
I couldn’t want to wake up from
But now..
Existing is welcoming the excitement of the morning sun
Existing is looking forward to my next chapter
Existing is a hopeful and lovely dream
I’m currently living in

Posted on by pattytacuri · 3 Comments

Play-Transition: Scene One

Characters: RON- age 67
CHLOE-age 24
LANDON-age 36

Scene 1

Setting

Ron’s Apartment, there are piles of stuff everywhere, picture frames hanging on the wall. Ron is sitting on the couch chewing beef jerky watching the TV. There is a knock on the door. It is his daughter Chloe . It’s about 3 PM and Ron is still in his pajamas. Ron, disgruntled, gets up to answer the door. Chloe is carrying a bunch of groceries in her hand.

RON:( opens door) Whadda ya want?
CHLOE: Oh geesh! Is that any way to greet your loving daughter ?
RON: Eh, you were interrupting me doing something important.
CHLOE: Sure, sure… now could you help me out wit one of of these bags before one of my arms falls off.
RON: (he takes one of the bags) Eh-I don’t know why you need to buy all of this stuff.
CHLOE: You mean your medicines, food, basic necessities for you to survive on. A basic ( CHLOE almost trips on a miscellaneous food wrapping) thank you would suffice. I told you to clean up some yesterday-you know the landlord—
RON: Landlord, shmanlord, She always threatens the same crap. “I will throw you out if you don’t clean. All bark, no bite. The old biddy shouldn’t care about what I do in the comfort of my own home as long as I pay her rent.
CHLOE: (starts to sit down-removing several car magazines) I wouldn’t be so sure of this. You know she has handed management over to her son. Do you really need all of these issues of Car and Ride magazines?
RON: Bug off! Will you? Nobody asks you to come over!
CHLOE: Dad (CHLOE goes to RON to put her hand on RON’s shoulder) It’s been over six months since mom died, perhaps-

RON shoos CHLOE’s hand away

RON: I don’t want to talk about it. It’s none of your damn business!
CHLOE: I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to…it’s just—
RON: Nothing. You are worrying about nothing.

There is an awkward moment of silence as RON has his back to CHLOE. CHLOE is trying to come up with something to say.

CHLOE: I guess I should go (CHLOE starts to get up tentatively) I have another errand to run.
RON: Good. I wouldn’t want your old man getting in the way of you doing anything important.
CHLOE: God! I just wish you wouldn’t be so…
RON: So what?
CHLOE: Nothing. I’ll leave you to your “important” tv watching.

CHLOE skips swiftly to the door

CHLOE: Bye dad.

RON goes back to sitting on the couch with a blank look on his face and stares at the TV.

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

Poetry: My Real Diagnosis

I wrote this in January of 2022.

if I had to be honest with myself

my real diagnosis should be “failure at love”
childhood trauma gave me abandonment issues
teenage trauma cemented it and added identity issues
combined with chronic emptiness
I couldn’t stand the constant void within
so I chased love trying to fill it
constantly sought out validation from men
to stop feeling ugly and alone
I’ve used them and they’ve used me
as band aids for our mutual loneliness
and when I start to feel sure of their love
it suddenly disappears
and all of my issues came back with force
with suicidal ideation entwined
And still I dusted myself off
and tried my luck with love over and over again
thinking each time it will be different
except it never is
they always tire of me and decide to leave
and once again my insanity hits and I break
Intrusive thoughts spiral in my head in an endless loop
“’i’m a failure to love,i’m a failure at love,
i’m a failure with love,i’m never enough,
i’m worthless, death must be better than this”
this was my tragic love story for 26 years
but on year 26, I said “fuck this tragic love story”
and I got the courage to change it
I’m not a failure to love, I’m not a failure at love
or I’m not a failure with love
I’m enough by myself, I can be alone by myself
and I turn into a success story of love

Posted on by pattytacuri · 1 Comment

Poetry: Distorted Reality

I wrote this in January of 2022.

it’s so much damn work

My emotions cloud and distort my reality
anger brings out passive aggressive social media post
sadness tells me I’m worthless
joy makes everything seem magical
numbness makes me want to end it all
hyper-sexuality makes me want to fuck almost everyone

My emotions cloud and distort my reality
I get paranoid, mad, sad, happy, and horny all in one day
My escapes used to be fucking and drinking
But I got older and wiser
And now I run and I write

My emotions cloud and distort my reality
And I learned to regulate and control them
I observe, I listen without judgment
and I honor my emotions

My emotions cloud and distort my reality
but now only for a short time
And I’m in control again
I’m no longer a mess of destruction and chaos