Enough with the serious stuff. This is a work of Fiction. Don't Ring Any Alarm Bells. The story isn't a reflection of my state of mind just an exploration of a mind gone mad.

I love to crawl on my hands and knees, the butt is up in the air, hands on the floor, hair sprayed on the floor looking for stuff lost, drawing the neurotic nut in me out. I want that thing and only that thing will do, that coin, that clip, that apple that my grandma put back in the basket and not the new one.

Give me whats mine, was always mine, fuck you for expecting me to share that I want forever to hoard- him, his, all that he owns is mine. Mine I say and no, I will not let you take even a fraction of him away from me. Mine to hold, mine to please, mine to love, mine destroy and bury coz only then does death do us part.

The coin is mine, the lover is mine, the sky we lie under is mine. These emotions trailing their little paths down my mind to my heart demand a make believe world where all is mine. People are mine, their breaths, their heartaches, their sadness, grief, desolation, exaltation all mine to breathe in.

Lying against the cold floor I try to reach for the coin under the bed. Its too far, I reach out, mine to hold but its as far as he is and I try but can't reach out. Tears fall, whimpers leave my mute lips, how am I keep what has always been mine and yet remains elusive?

He is there , it is there, the world is there but not for my taking. Mine, Mine I tell you!! Oh, Lord! nothing will ever be mine.

(Dedicated to my daughter who loves to hold me and say Mine!)