Crazy Horse

Crazy horse

A young man stood in front of me. Slightly overweight with a bad crew cut. His left arm was heavily bandaged. He held it out to me like an offering – a kind gesture.

“What happened to you?” I asked. He dipped his head shyly and poked a toe at the grubby, coffee-stained carpet.

“It’s a long story.” He mumbled, “I was in love with a girl. I loved her for a really long time.”

His eyes flashed up briefly to catch mine. Glancing up to the right and back to the floor he continued.

“We always walked to school together – I was, I guess, obsessed with her.” I could see another flicker in his eyes, but of hesitation or clutching at a memory. “I bought her flowers and chocolates, wrote her cards and love letters. For a long time…” he trailed off.

“How long?”

“I dunno…” He scrunched his face up as if he was in pain, then breathed out, “Six years, three months, one week and four days.” And obviously still counting, alarmingly!

“That’s a long time to love someone.” I said.

It’s a long time to love someone if they don’t love you back.” He said, looking directly at me – scrutinizing my reaction.

“So why did you keep writing and giving to her?”

I thought she would love me if I could show her how much I loved her. I thought I could have her. She would be mine – but she left. She came up here, to the big smoke. She got a job, and apartment, new friends – a whole life of her own. What she didn’t realise was that she was my life. So I came to live here too. Then I followed her from her work one day. Just pretended I was in the area and had bumped into her, random like. That was not a very good thing to do – she got really mad and told me to leave…to leave her alone.” He stopped, rubbed his good arm across his eyes and sighed.

“That’s when I got this really cool idea!” His face lit up with his remembered ingenuity. “See, I read in a book somewhere that Van Gough had cut his ear off and sent it to the love of his life. So I thought to myself that I would prove how much I loved her – I would send her my arm. That’s bigger than an ear – it must mean more! So the next day I go to work and do my job. When I thought everyone had gone home, I turned my skill-saw back on and tried to cut my arm off.” He swallows a gulp of air and grins at me crazily.

“Geez, didn’t that hurt?” I ask.

“That’s why I stopped!” he laughs. “I pushed my arm onto the saw and it sliced quickly -which was my intention. Blood pissed everywhere – it quickly got through the bones before I had a chance to pull back and well….it was just kind of hanging off and that’s when I thought to myself; Shit, what the hell am I doing – this hurts! What a mess too. I would’ve died too , I suppose, if the other guy hadn’t heard me screaming before I passed out.”

© Kait King, 2015

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Lucky

Lucky

Every second we suck in air, a child is hurt or dying somewhere in the world – that makes air a pretty high commodity and a very expensive way to look at breathing our air. Therefore make it worthwhile, make it count, but make it count in love and kindness, caring and passing on joy – not just to children but to all. Breathe your air with purpose, you’re really lucky, every day is a blessing 🙂 Kait King 2016

Does Anyone Ever

Does anyone ever

Does anyone else

ever feel

That this world

isn’t real?

That you know

you don’t belong

Perhaps the ‘Big Guy’

got it wrong

This is not

where you’re meant

to be

Running on the

hamster wheel –

trapped

and not free

Do you ever

think to yourself:

“I am the ostracized alien

I am the one

who doesn’t

fit in!”

And decide to make

a concerted effort

But remain

disappointed

So you retreat

and think,

“Fuck it”

© Kait King, 2016

Rock Bottom

Rock bottom

I hit rock bottom

I sat on that bottom rock

weeds and roots tethered me close

and not in a Lovers’ Lock

Catatonic in my despair

broken like a car crash victim

I clutched at straws and sucked in air

feeling like I needed Lithium

Overwhelmed by what I’m not

broken by what I was

fighting what it has to be

a fallen star, a lost cause, tell it as it is

that old me will never leave

it’s a part of what makes me

my body may have let me down

but when I write – I’m free

© Kait King, 2015

She is nothing like me

Nothing like me

Gingerly I type the words, wondering if I may be the only person who thinks like this. god’s daughter is turning out to be more appalling than horrific, more repulsive than disgusting. I can feel her like black tar in my mind. She calls me to write her out – to layer her like a black wedding cake, all the details – the spiders, the webs, the cockroaches, the mould and dusty aura of her mind. The corners of her life are all in shadow, a shadow I have to be brave enough to step into and feel the darkness that is god’s daughter. She wants to be created but she doesn’t want me – I am nothing to her, just like everyone else.

And she is nothing like me…

Crystal Meth-I-Didn’t-Mean (Methamphetamine)

methididntmean-drugabuse_shutterstock-164052779-blowing-smoke-cloud-meth-fi

Crystal Meth

An addicts’ breath

Inhales a smoky dream

In reality

You’re never free

Just a brains’ endless scream

Crystal Meth

Talk in depth

Required by any means

Close to death

That last crystal breath

It’s not as great as it seems

Crystal Meth

Families bereft

Bury a loved one, crying

Cold caress

This Crystal Meth

And our children keep on dying

© Kait King, 2016

You know you know…..

you know you know

You already know –

You know you’ve

known for ages

But just didn’t

want to look into that ugly face

or go to that ugly place

You knew months ago

when he was angry with you

when all you did

was be excited he was home

and he turned his back

and left you there alone

You already knew

when you could

smell the hint of perfumes

that you know you

don’t wear

Those whispered

phone calls

He doesn’t want you

to hear

You already know –

you know you’ve known

for ages

but just didn’t

want to look

into that ugly lying face

or go to that ugly empty place

© Kait King, 2015

It doesn’t really matter

it doesn't really matter

So very close to me

you look

on my inside

and I think it doesn’t matter

So very close to me

you breathe

on my outside

and I think it doesn’t matter

Then I’m alone

pictures fall in my head

I shut my eyes so tight

and lie lost in my bed

wishing you were here so very close to me

and I know…

it really doesn’t matter

any more

© Kait King, 2015

After the Fact

After the Fact

He rolled her up in the carpet

He tied her up real tight

He threw her into the trunk of his car

And screeched out into the night

He knows he must not draw attention

He must slow down his breath and calm

He drove around for hours

With her body in the back of his car

Delusional or clear of mind

It really didn’t matter

He was clear enough to clean up the mess

And removed all her blood he splattered

He contemplated water

He thought about the dump

He thought about a mountain top

He could make it look like she jumped

As dawn approached, a screaming light

His stomach started to rumble

So he drove her through the drive thru

And didn’t miss a beat or fumble

A steady hand held out dollar bills

But his eyes he kept downcast

Not a thought spared for his wife in the trunk

The love that didn’t last

© Kait King, 2015

Look at me…

Vintage mod rock

Look at me

waffling on

happy as a bee

Look at me

skipping through life

thinking I’m free

Look at me

that wistful child

once so wild

and now independent

and grown

Look at me

with 3 under 3

and a house I don’t

even own

Look at me

shared weekends

if we’re lucky

And I know you’ve been

sucking

someone else’s cherry

lip gloss

Look at me

bitter days

long nights

spent watching crap TV

Never to be

free – the very unhappy

divorcee

© Kait King, 2015