Happy Holidays you Freaking FREAK blond lady who almost killed me and my kids this morning. Yeah YOU who drove the FREAKING PINK PT Cruiser. Custom? F you.
Happy Holidays to YOU you F head who yelled at ME after you almost ran me over in the parking lot. Get it? YOU almost ran ME over. Shut up your face.
Happy Holidays to all the people on cable news. Get off my tv. Really. And don't tell me I can change the channel.. I can't because your banal chatter seeps into all other forms of media and I can't get away from you.
Happy Holidays to YOU my lovely extended family. I say this in response to what will surely come. Can't we all just get along? Must there be tantrums? Can I offer you a Valium or must I crush them up this year and add them to the Prosecco?
And Finally a great bit ol' shout out to my work place. Happy Freaking Holidays. Thanks for the no raise, the making me work on my birthday, and the ever present pink slip threat. I triple dog dare you.
Phew. I feel better.
Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Cutting is a secret thing.
It is done in the bathroom
with the door locked.
It is done with a key,
a piece of metal,
a razor blade.
It is done with anything you can find
when you can't stop crying
or when pieces of your heart
are ripped out and chewed on
by sharp teeth.
It is done when someone you trust
It is done
when you aren't good enough.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
I'm inside a box. I knew it when I walked in and they taped it up. I agreed to boxed up life. I planted flowers and drew a yellow sun with a crayon on the top. I made myself small so that I couldn't see the corners.
I've grown big like Alice. My back arches against the sun. My head touches my toes. My elbows find the taped up places.
I can't stay inside. I can't stay inside.
Posted by Suzanne Palmieri-Hayes at 6:06 AM