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it's time to be day after day no peace for the wicked | pennypampers's Blog


There is panic in this heart of mine. I live my life straight and close to the bone. But not enough to stretch across a bone. I wear a mask to conceal the day and I hope to be like everyone else and everyone else wants to be me and all of us just want to  be free. And now open your eyes open your eyes open your eyes. Live your life like patrick dunbarten or raymond hall and just slink away in this day of mind. All around the shadows of our former deities coming to glance at our wet works. There is place to be and way to be but there is never enough. We can be. We can be of love and love be. And so there is a place to be and way to be and a laughter to see. In a word. In a dance. In a  chance. On the wire. I found myself dreaming and gloaming and the world was not quite right but that is nothing to get hung about.  There is dead rat down the hall. It's stinking to high heaven. There is a throat slit and bent backwards into dream. I can see your lips move but I can't understand the language. And we may be. We may see. And the time to be what we can concieve and dream that we be. In the theater. In the school. In the distant parking lot. Keep moving into the gap. I will wrap those pearls around my neck. I will cover my head and I will bow down mister to my master and submit willingly because that is it is and what it was and what it could be and ever was to be.  This fancy dream book reliance. The words that burn and scald and be cool as ice. And I see it now. How simply it is. To be of joy and be not of hate but to be just of dream and harmony and know your place not because you are forced there but because you love and you love and you want to be of love and you want to open those doors of perception and cleanse your mind so that you may find truth.  And if anxiety burns you. A new day will dawn of earth and the sun will shine...it will be a state of mind. 32 million can't be wrong. Over and over again we begin and what once sam malone is now...? Oh wait. I found myself in a bitter dispute on a past life shelf and a copy of  anton lavey but I still believe in life and I still concieve we can be of help. I once held the hand on one about to be aborted. She was a friend in a time that has gone by and I have not seen her for more over 30 years. I still remember the surfers on the beach and we were all dancing to rock lobster. And life was just begining and life was still in our grasp and the great communicater was my idol though no one knew it. I remember the papers when the wall came down. I remember a time when I almost submitted to a man more than twice my age but he seemed pleasant and I almost agreed to live with him. He had a bicycle on his porch.  There a dream that comes of age and now I wear a bracelet not because I want to but because I am now marked and when they come with their flashing lights young daniel checks the bracelet and knows just one piece of my past. There is a counter and there is clicker and there is timer. All the world to be. Let the wind blow and cover me. I can see that I was once alive and not quite has broken as I am now today.  I can't let the words get to be. I can't let them end me. I can't let the world end me. I use to more in control. I use to be not so afraid. And now there a fuzziness in my head and my arms straight and smile and hope they don't wander and hope the smile doesn't contort and hope my speech doesn't leave me again. But really what to do. Who can stop the rain. And now I understand the fear that use to be in those halls and in those rooms. And we are all trying to be alive. And sometimes I wonder what it would be like to control a bm and not have to suffer this...oh what is it. Not really indignity. It just is but there seems to be something inside that can be better and not to hide. And the world and the world and the world.  And now the time has come and the bell has rung and down the hall the cna's scurry and the doors come clanging shut and the alarm spins out  of  discord. Pass the ice and rinse out the chux in the hopper. The night train is coming.  And the two dimensions awake and take away. Laughter and distain and the baking man is baking bread. You have to cool down and take it easy. Relax and take it easy and slow down. Mmm. I reajust the sheet and pull mrs scardino up forward with the help of  brianna.  She doesn't eat her oat meal so the other cna eats it because we're all hungry and haven't eaten yet. The thickened liquid and the small portion of refreshments. Distant dreams and distant trees. And that sound the 80's makes when neon leggins collide with hair bands and that fuzzy little ball with fangs giving us the finger. Those pill do work you know and now I can only imagine what maybe it was I was saying. I figure I was here once and then I was gone. I tried to figure it out once but I was not sure. Everything kind of weird. And that is all that there is to it. The liquid jazz the soft parade. Other voices and closing the cirlcle that seems to take time in the evening of night and light of day. Somewhere inside a moon pie.  Just a little sugar and metformin to mix with the quick and the light hearted. The stone cold blues of worn out shoes. My purse was violated my the cna's who were looking for downers to calm their own anxiety.  When you're making beds, showers, passing ice, turning off lights and changing briefs you barely have time to come their hair and take a warm rag to their face ...one side for each side so not to contaminate.  The pm shift is never as late as if feels but it is a kind of lonliness. The am shift is a madhouse and you never quite catch up with it and has you report to the next shift you look forward to going home but you never really quite there. Dementia is a funny thing. And those around you don't really trust you anymore and don't even really know you. The food is scarce. The beer lubricates the distant dream of dying. And you feel tthat you might escape and be somewhere else but a voice is gone and no longer enters your mind but you still remember and sometimes you hear the tears that come from the other room. And you think of the late late show with tom snyder only now it's in spanish and not even him but the show is the same. Just another time of mind. But we can be together and we can fit pieces together and the waitresses if I get all the parts I can rule the world. The drum beat. The heartbeat. The beat. The psycho scream of  a ice cream dream.  But it's never enough and somehow it goes away and away and the hunger never really ebbs. And the grease is think but it doesn't really fill me up. If you are awake long enough it is day again. noc shift has it's own feel and the night isn't quite right even though you would like it to be. She left a message on the phone machine in the morning and that night she never went to bed and the next day I heard the news and I miss her and I will never... I don't know. I found myself in a world of thought and I was trying to climb out of this hole. There is life and there will always be life and that is a blessing. I know. I'm so selfish because I want you all to myself and to be able to talk to you again and tell you how I am doing and what I am listening to and what I am watching and what I am reading and what I am writing and what I am playing and I just wish you were... here in this room or just on the phone and let you know that I love you and I will always love you and you have meant so much to me and I love you. In the hospital I had a regimented existance. i could get out of be unless I had permission from the nurse or the cna. And meals were good but restricted diet.  Compression socks and these little booties that inflated and pulsated with air all night... I really liked those little booties. There was nurse who always gave me a small can of fizzy soda with a straw. Hmm.  I would be up at nights sometimes and look out the window. I wondered how I would survive and If I would survive but as time passed I kind of knew that I was here but I was still afraid but I was okay. They were kind to me.  :) pennypampers 

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