Billy McMannot

Billy McMannot can be such a piss.

His stubbornness is fluent, he rarely does miss.

I thought  we just met but it seems not the case.

Turns out Billy and I have been sharing same space.

Gotta give it to the lad, it took me six years to realize how glad

I would become at a boy who made me so mad the whole while just impersonating a man.



I have been very sick lately.

It has been awful.

The anxiety is so thick that if I could remove it from my body, put it in a pot and cook it on the stove, it would make a sturdy roux, but it would taste like straight fuck.

I feel like I am losing my mind at a very rapid pace.

Too much change going on….

I suppose I do not handle change well, anymore.

I used to be able to deal with it, well, in my twenties. Back then, my life was nothing but constant change. But then I got settled down and in and it felt good. I got used to the monotony of doing the same things every day.

I got used to be being a mom, a damn good one. I got used to taking care of my family. I got used to washing dishes and clothes and cooking supper and cleaning the kitchen.

Then one day, everything was gone.

Everyone was gone.

Cherry on top

Major depressive disorder is worse than so many chronic illnesses.  I mean,  you can be depressed, but it’s not like this.  I can literally sleep 20 hours a day without any drugs.  It is so hard to get out of bed and on the days I do push myself out of bed, all the while,  telling myself that once I GET UP AND AT EM’, I’ll feel better,  and then I don’t. makes me nauseous on top of everything else.


The alcohol is tearing my stomach up but that doesn’t matter while I fill up my cup

childhood demons coming  hard and fast don’t know how much longer I can last

everywhere I go the trouble seems to follow I put on my nikes and run like Apollo

I wanna get away I don’t want to wallow and the  pill life gives I don’t wanna swallow

so here I am and I’m stuck like stupid because I let an arrow from  cupid

hit my heart in the weakest spot, and now that bitch got me in a headlock

I’m at jesus door going  KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK,  answer the door please don’t keep it locked.

I’m standing out here in the pouring ass rain and I hate that I am here once again

it seems like all I feel is nothing but shame, and that is a feeling so loaded with pain

I look all around for someone to blame

I look all around for someone to blame

but they’re gone, not coming back, and now I  feel an anxiety attack

coming to hit me always from the back rubbing my nose in all that I lack


waiting waiting waiting for an answer

Jesus please come cure this cancer

it’s eating me up from the inside out

even though I keep pulling out the seeds of doubt

waiting waiting waiting for an answer

Jesus please come cure this cancer

it’s eating me up from the inside out

even though I keep pulling out the seeds of doubt


I have to believe it only seems like i’m failing

when the truth is that I am probably sailing

across every ocean always prevailing

even when life seems so unavailing

I am a tough ass bitch this I do know

lemons in my garden are the only thing that grow

eyes all burning but I go with the flow

except I do it backwards, it’s part of my show

One day I will finish this lifetime race

running to the goal of unfettered grace

Jesus in my pocket HE IS MY ACE

it’s hard to believe he hasn’t turned his face

I feel so worthless most of the time

blaming myself for my father’s crimes

but then the wind blows and I can hear the chimes

and the slow still voice points out the landmines

beloved run here, don’t run there

the mothafucking landmines are everywhere

watch where you step, walk with care

and when you feel lonely find the sun and just stare

fuck whose watching…why the fuck care?

if you feel shame just let down your hair

and know they’re all numbered, my dear Sarah

I love all my children but you are fairer

keep that thought close in your desolate land

while you know you can always take my hand

I’ll walk you through the valleys of sand

and Ill get you to the promised land

keep your chin up while you get a tan

the place I am taking you is fucking grand

I tell no lies, I AM the Son of man

I tell no lies, I Am the Son of man


waiting waiting waiting for an answer

Jesus please come cure this cancer

it’s eating me up from the inside out

even though I keep pulling out the seeds of doubt

waiting waiting waiting for an answer

Jesus please come cure this cancer

it’s eating me up from the inside out

even though I keep pulling out the seeds of doubt

waiting waiting waiting for an answer

Jesus please come cure this cancer

it’s eating me up from the inside out

even though I keep pulling out the seeds of doubt

waiting waiting waiting for an answer

Jesus please come cure this cancer

it’s eating me up from the inside out

even though I keep pulling out the seeds of doubt







An Excercise In Realness

When I woke up, this morning, I can’t lie, I was scared to look at my WordPress account.  It literally took me 2 hours to look.  There were no likes, except from a good friend of mine.

People are so disappointing to me.

I am disappointing to me.

If there is nothing else I get from this blog, it is the opportunity to EXCERCISE REALNESS.

I guess we all just want the “realness” that Reality TV provides….


I was upset yesterday, over a plethora of things of which I wouldn’t write.  I only wanted to write about my anger.

I hate being the bitch who whines about how horrible her life is and how all she wants to do is die.  I refuse to be the bitch who has to preface my post with  ASTERISK  CAUSE  I AM TALKING ABOUT ALL SHIT SUICIDAL.

I ain’t her….but those who are her, get TONS OF LIKES AND ALL THAT “FEELING SORRY FOR YOU CRAP”….I know, because I am the first to like all of those kinds of posts, BECAUSE I RELATE TO THEM.

am i truly that hard to relate?

When I go writing about my real feelings, I  will,  inevitably, always make that shit rhyme, and then instead of someone hearing my real shit that’s going on, they get a nice little poem, because I am still incapable of writing about the REAL SHIT that distresses me.

But last night I got balls to the wall DRUNK.

And honestly…I really do believe I said a bunch of the same shit other people want to say, but won’t because even if they’re drunk….they can’t.

People are the biggest stumbling  block in my life….if only they weren’t.

I would be fucking President….or at least mayor.

Ok…this IS FUNNY…I’m your trap queen

You GOTTA know you reading a BORDERLINE BITCH’S BLOG, when she tries to push away her own followers…

OMG…I am fucking sick.


I think I’m racist now

I don’t even know how to start this conversation, except to say two things:

  1.  I have never been a racist.
  2.  I feel like I am now.

Now, how it is that I was never discriminatory about color, I don’t know, I suppose I have to give all that credit to my mean-ass stepmother, because my dad is racist AS FUCK, and he always has been. However, wicked step-mother is an individual who possesses a few masters degrees, and her first love was art, so..I am guessing that back when she was in college, she was as flower-childy as she could be, without upsetting her rich, uppety parents.

I have a feeling that before she married my dad, that bitch was a cool motherfucker.

Nevertheless, she married the guy that would sit on the couch in the living room and “count niggers” on the t.v. and call the whole family in the room to share his vile disgust at all the channels which had on them, people of color.

I’m not shitting you…he would do that several times a week, for as long as I can remember.  He probably doesn’t do it anymore, though, because I think it would be just too overwhelming for him, at this point…and he’s fucking old now.

Not that it ever occurred to me to use the word, “nigger”, because I swear to God on everything I love, I NEVER thought about using that word when I was young, but step-mother made it more-than-clear, that was a word that was NOT to be repeated.

And I didn’t.

As I write this, please keep in mind that I was raised not only in South Louisiana, but in Livingston Parish, which is basically the home of the KKK, around these parts.

Does the name, DAVID DUKE, ring a bell?

I remember being a kid and actually feeling relieved at her strictness concerning race. I hated almost everything else about her, because she ruled our house with an iron fist, but that’s the one thing I actually (without consciously realizing) that I liked about her.

When I was in the second grade, there was this black kid named Grant, who would pass me a note, at least, every-other-day, which always said the same thing:

“I like you, do you like me?”

And then he would write a “yes” and a “no” and write underneath “circle one”.

I remember really liking him, but I knew that was not something on which I could circle “yes”.  So…I would scratch out his “yes or no” and write, “sort of”.

I did that EVERY TIME.

I ended up fucking Grant 23 years later, but that’s another story.

When I was 19 I got on hard drugs and ended roaming every hood in Baton Rouge.  I did it for more than ten years and I am still alive…I am a fucking “OG”.  I don’t do the drugs anymore (like that), nor am I a hood rat, anymore.  Yeah, I was kidnapped, raped at knife-point, gang-banged at gun-point…one time, during a kidnapping, I ended up in an apartment where the dudes walked around with AK’s strapped to their chest and did nothing but peep out the blinds.  One of them brought me to the bedroom, AK in my face, and told me to suck his dick.  Dude pulled out his cock and it was covered in warts….

….I told him to shoot me….AND I FUCKING MEANT IT.

He remained silent…but he didn’t shoot me, and the kidnapper put me back in his van and we left.

All that to say…I have been off the shit for more than a decade, but I’m still not rich enough to not live in the hood.  This new neighborhood, in this new parish I moved to….OMFG…the reverse racism is ABSOLUTELY FUCKING RIDICULOUS.  I have never felt so discriminated against…even when I was a full-blown junkie…

…and I think I’m racist now.





….and if you find yourself JUDGING ME, respond with a comment, so I can respond, in kind, and defend myself.


Oh my God, I hate being low, when I was younger I stayed doing blow, so I didn’t even know that reason I stayed on “GO” was a subconscious attempt at not being low.

I always stayed high with wings that would fly down though the pits of hell then back up to the sky and I remember asking, “why?” because being high all the time still made me cry (but only on the inside)

Now years have passed and though sometimes I ask I really do pass on the hard drugs.

I just drink the liquor, and my body is getting sicker but thing is…this week, I didn’t even drink and I’m still fucking low and I still want to go and I don’t want to leave my bed so yes, I do know, that I am sick in the head.

Will this ever end?  When did it begin?  When I lost my mom the first time?  Or when it happened again?


Red Rover

I posted this one a year ago…I suppose I’ve made a modicum of progress since then…

Athena's Wicked Owl

Just my normal fucking chaos, that’s all it really is…Like a Nathan’s fucking hot dog with some mustard and some jizz.  I got a mean ass voice all in my fucking head…telling me go fuck myself, you really should be dead….I’m in the ring and fighting that bitch sounding so much like myself and I’m sick of hearing her voice that bitch is fucking with my health…If only she could do something productive with herself….i HATE THAT BITCH; I FUCKING HATE HER TAKE HER OUT OF ME…I swear to Christ she needs to go cause I can hardly fucking breathe.  I’m almost fucking 40 and there’s been no damn reprieve; this demon spawn has stole my soul just like a fucking thief.

I know God fucking hears me and he’s been listening my whole life…watching and he’s laughing as I struggle being (wife)…a mother, a sister and a fucking goddamn…

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