nccotus

my favorite socks from Walmart are imprinted with large blue and pink butterflies.

my favorite own poem is called “yellow butterflies” and it is about a dv shelter in Tampa Florida where I ran to with my son in 2000 from a bad situation created by a bad choice and my mother’s worse influence. The butterflies were all over the path on the way to the bus stop where I got the bus to see my caregiver at USF psychiatric.

“…and this little girl

who never got to be one,

is dancing with yellow butterflies now.”

we were doing a poetry hour and all the women loved my poem, which saved my life, as I wasn’t fitting in well there.

so, I keep seeing references to Papillion–2 1/2 decades after the Poetry hour at the Tampa dv shelter. (Papillion, who escaped from prison in France, I don’t remember the whole story except that he flew down from a high cliff like a butterfly.)

I feel like that once again,

Ian is all grown up but once again in need if my help in a way I don’t know how to provide tonight. And I am in need of his help in a way he cannot provide.

His girlfriend, a lunatic, grabbed my cell phone and broke it when I started to call 911 on her the day before yesterday (Sunday) so now I don’t have one.

I have 0 cash and 0 credit, roughly. And there isn’t any in the pot although has been a suggested that there will be some in the pipeline soon.

but this is another desperate hour and there is no way out of it but to hold us up here in prayer as I here now do,