You know, sometimes it can be so hard. Woke up to body aches, the side effects of sorrow released. It took everything in me to get out of bed. Heavy inside, constant headache. Contracted for thousands of dollars to write a memoir. Hired as a photographer on a ranch in the Santa Susana Pass by the ol’ Manson ranch. Drank a Hotel California margarita at Los Torros with my new psychic boss. Becoming a pin up model. I was so happy, the tequila buzz pleasant. Me and my big dreams comin’ true. But later I visited my papa, where he cried about having no family. Staring me in the face as he spoke those hurtful words. Swallowed a Valium when he was in the bathroom. How can I possibly be sober when I am responsible for an old man who wants to die. How can I hold the feeble hand with a mechanical heart and kiss the slur of a stroke mouth. Witnessed a fatality on the freeway. Went grocery shopping with Bobby and ran into my father’s ex-girlfriend. Haven’t seen her in seven years since she slipped meth into my coffee that one time, her daughter is my half sister I don’t call sister. I shouldn’t have said hello. I should’ve said you broke my father’s heart but held my tongue. I think I’m sick. Smoke cigarettes and drink tea, let him take care of me. Heal what can be in the hopes tomorrow’s different. That tomorrow I can be happy.
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