Search

Sweet Dreams & Rude Awakenings

sweetdreamsxxxrudeawakenings.wordpress.com

I Thought I Was Evil…..

I’m sure some of us had lost count on the wooden spoons broken or the hair brushes (those nice round ones) or the belts that would sometimes ensue when more pain was wanting to be inflicted upon you. A time or two (a zillion for a few) of when your parents tempers rose flared & then they came unglued.  What was it they would do? Can you remember too? What is it WE are now to do?

6 yrs old, she was. Her father was clueless; it was her birthday and she just rounded the corner & he snaps a picture of his beautiful birthday girl; so he thought. That picture circulates my house [like many others] to this day. Just as hauntingly, little had he known he had actually captured the expression of a child that was just harshly scolded, spanked behind closed doors & shook as her elastic birthday hat string was snapped harshly to her neck & told to “act right”! Do you know what it’s like to celebrate a birthday, as a 6 yr old, trying to fight back the tears and bewilderment of why it was you were so wrong; all the while, trying to show happiness for the gifts you where shoved towards. *poof*[my first recall of disappearing] I apologize for not recalling what it was I had done that instigated the abuse. I was constantly lying, as I was told and caused a lot of disharmony; I have surmised.

I realized religion and the infamous “G”od was a farce at, about, 7 yrs old. We lived in Maui, Lahaina. I had a serious problem w/wetting the bed for a lot of years & I recall that night waking up to yet, another, wet bed. [I had only one set of sheets because I had hid sheets in the past when I would wet the bed. Because I didn’t want the harsh scoldings & jerking me around when I would speak of my accident. So, smart me, I decide to get up and change the sheets but only ones where my parents sheets. I also had to deal w/the mattress being wet. I couldn’t put clean sheets on a wet mattress. I took out the hairdryer & at about 3am I was blow drying my mattress. I don’t know how long I had tried but it gave off a horrible burnt smell. I dried it enough to put the sheets on & climbed back into bed.

The next morning, my step mother rips me outta bed for she smelt the burnt foul smell in my room & sees that there is a cig burn mark on “my/her” sheets. [They were smokers] I tried explaining to her that they were her sheets & she did not believe me. She ripped me across the entire house to the numerous bibles screaming at the top of her lungs for me to stop lying & admit I smoked cigs. After about an hour of torture it stopped, I had stopped begging for mercy and succumbed & lied w/my hand on the bible.& her next line of punishment was eating 5 cigarettes. Chew swallow, chew swallow, chew swallow–hurl–chew swallow 2 more. She decided the caper to my insolence and lying about smoking was going to take me down to the beach (as I was violently ill) and make me sit in the hot sun & not go into the water at all or have anything to drink. I recall laying in the sun wishing for this evil “G”od to rot in hell.

I was the brunt of many jokes. One was around 8, (An adults birthday, I believe) I recall my shirt being lifted in front of everyone & she slaps a bow where my breast was & exclaimed, “Now you have some tits,” I was mortified, horrified, petrified, & *poof*[I disappeared once again] I realized I was a problematic child. I was an unwanted step daughter but told how much she wanted me to be the daughter she never had. Which I was never to make that mark. Another humorous one for my step mother when I was about 9, the humiliation I had doing my chores [vacuuming the living room] while wearing my panties on my head w/the soiled crotch in my face. Some humiliation never goes away; what was she thinking that was solving? Everyday after school I would have to go into the room &drop my pants. On the back of the door was a chart & I would get a gold star if I didn’t soil my panties & I do not recall what was done when they were. Probably best for me.

My stomach turns as my thoughts get darker the more I became aware. The waking me, late at night, out of a dead sleep with perfume wafted under my nose. I would squeeze my eyes tight wishing to not cough to show I was awake. I didn’t know how much more my spirit could break. *poof* [I disappear once again]

Those are just some soft examples of what my little mind was ripped through. I never did know, then nor now, why I was such an awful bad child. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve such treatment. I’m not sure what gives a person the belief or understanding that they can misuse and abuse another human being. What gives another human being the thoughts it’s okay to  shower it with vile evil wickedness and tell that young soul that there is a god but he obviously does not view you as worthy enough of a cause or the pain and suffering would cease to exist and I would be a loved little girl. You are proof evil exists! She would hiss time and time again.

Advertisements

UNfinished

THIS IS TRIPLE XXX WRITING 

PLEASE DO NOT CONTINUE IF YOU ARE OFFENDED BY MILD EROTICA!!!!!!

Cum bring her your manliness & undress
Tell her your secrets you want to profess
Bare her your soul; first to confess

Teach her a thing or two; many a blessing
Drench her in your masculinity you’ve been repressing
Whisk her away with your love to be expressing

Fantastically rich of haughtiness
Pure unadulterated naughtiness
Sauciness in your hardened arrant obviousness

Between her thighs she lets you slide
Pushing her panties aside
Tickling her further inside

Crystalline dew drenched drops
Glistening wetter w/every dirty thought
Appearing across her, now, bare crotch

Glazing just the fingertip
Withdrawing, she to bite her lower lip
Moans, to escape as you follow to rub her clit

Intense animialistic wit
She’s ready to submit
Logic, long ago, quit

I’m at a loss for words….
Go on…get w/it…..
You finish it…

[gosh, make me do all the work….lol]

Day-Break

 

Morning doves doth coddle & coo
Breaking dawn each day new
That’s just what they do
Good Morning to you
Coffee for two?
Just w/me & u
I do
🙂

Rejection

“Yes, my dear, you should quit”
She isn’t whom you’ve actually kissed
Emotional caring has, now, become dismissed

Her words of encouragement are in arrears
Once for tears, as you spoke your fears
She kept all your secrets very near & dear

Wish I could caress into these pages
How much she cherished you through the ages
Allowed you control; leaving no traces….

Amid all your girlfriends you had to forbid
Being completely blown off the grid
Grasping Pandora’s box by the lid

How could anyone love such a crazy bitch
Easier to fuck her & get it over with
No one ever wanting to stick in w/it

You aren’t prepared for any of this shit
A ready made family w/sharp wit
Waiting for you to fuck up just a little bit

Witness the breath of pure loving bliss
A marriage proposal to, also, reminisce
You deserve more than what’s w/this bitch

~~Build that family with a new young missus

Two You….

Wealth you could not afford to give
Riches in heart is where we do live
Never to repeat mistakes you had to forgive

Had done your first and continue to press
Teaching them young to achieve their best
Learning is about living a righteous quest

Their timid smoky brown eyes
One mischievous while the other one wise
Both with hearts of gold and smiles wide

A little more guidance as they grow
Your words you will not easily know
Your example is all you have to show

What brings you happiness & joy
It is not from a joker nor a new toy
It is in the heart of a man; aka your son
(……or boys)

Lines Getting Crossed

[There are no expectations only limitations.]
[Limits, of to which, another will give to you.]
[To know your boundaries; one must respect another(s).]

So, as the story goes [Part II]

…..I got to the end of the walkway, of the crisis clinic, & the woman had reappeared at the door and was calling after me. I told her I read the sign & I will be on my way…….To be continued…..

Part II

….I looked up at her, the whole while, trying to hold back the tears that had been raging inside my soul.

[[I come to you and bare my soul for this weight is too much for me to hold]]

I was already feeling, so very, defeated and knew my needs where, surely, not going to be met. The sign clearly read: Crisis Clinic Hours Walk In 7AM-7PM; I was quickly thrown into thoughts of calculating what bridge was high enough & how fast would I need to be going in my car. You know, peaceful thoughts on a bright early Thanksgiving morning. Another flash was of me on my bathroom floor, again, in a pool of blood.

I stop you now, it is not a selfish act but, is it the “right” thing to do?….not because it is against the law (what a joke) but that it’s spiritually marring. I can not accept suicide as a means to anything…but when you put the body through a certain amount of physical pain [to release the internal torment] a part of me slips away for awhile. I got, almost….well, yes…..addicted to the release of self.

[[It is not the pain I am to endure that would be devastating anymore it would be the pain left for others to live in]]

By others, I mean my two children. I can not keep a home for my children around bloodshed, guilt, and regret. I can wholeheartedly say that I have done nothing in this life but do my best at parenting my children. As by that, I mean w/guidance, support, and love. I tried being that example and I never quite made the mark. Always a little too short, a little too poor, a little too late, a little too lost to compete w/the “normal” moms out there. One “must” I had, and that was, to always let them know how much they mean to me. To let them know they are loved beyond any mistake that could ever be thought of and the freedom of choice with growth. Most importantly that my love for them was and always will be unconditional. With knowing this in my truest of hearts…..

I bowed my head & started walking towards the woman holding the door open, for me.
Most of the lights where off, which gave a more warm welcome and she was nodding for me to come in.

The tears started flowing….

…..To be continued….

So, as the story goes….

It was around 5am, I had been up for the 4th consecutive morning @ 2am, and my thoughts had just about eaten me alive; this particular, morning, Thanksgiving.

My house was not empty and in my lap rested my black feline. Alone, was not my problem. It’s the illusion I try to force into focus but fail at every attempt; that, empties my soul. There was one dream I had, like many, where I wanted to belong to a loving family. I stand back, trying to analyze the best I can. It is not a “fault” situation. It is not a blame game neither. I choose to stand away for reasons all my own. and I respect those who can respect that.

I digress, with my thoughts taking over, yesterday morning, I decided I needed to reach out for help because I was wanting not to harm but worse. I knew I needed to talk to someone, I thought might care, to let me know that I can keep going without being appalled by the desires/intrusive thoughts, I was having. Someone to be there to help me across the tightrope I had found myself on.

It was still dark out, at six-ish am, I pull up outside of the building to the parking lot being full of 4 vans. I park a little down the block & shuffle my way to the front door of the local crisis clinic. I’ve been here before, sadly, a few times. I ring the bell & a woman, I don’t recognize, answers the door & I ask her if there is someone I can talk with. She replies, “Yes, just hold on one second,” she shuts the door & disappears into the building. I am standing at the glass door feeling very awkward & anxious & nervously look around at the zillion 8.5 x 11 flyers taped to the door. One of them being WALK-IN HOURS 7am-7pm. Knowing it was well before 7am, my heart sank reading it. I hung my head down & looked at my slippers, that I so hastily slipped on, & started down the front steps. I got to the end of the walkway & the woman had reappeared at the door and was calling after me. I told her I read the sign & I will be on my way…………..[to be continued]

A’dieu

Persecuted by visions of yesterdays
A loveless youth; troubled with abuse
Covered in sickness; basted & glazed
Your mind seems trapped in that maze

Paralyzed by the fear invested in me
Taught to doubt all there was to see
Taught to disbelieve what I conceived
Taught not of what love ought be

Push through the veil
Come on child, you can prevail
There is hope under all this fail
Let it free, your soul; you see

Play amongst the trees in the breeze
Gallop to the moonlit sea
Let go of all that use to be
Instead, come play with me

….….New Memories

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑