Poshy Wash

I see you’ve found your way back to my writing again, what has brought you back. Is it the need to fill your mind with words that only sound expensive as they pour from a now washed up social worker who got about 10 good years left in me. I figure now would be a better chance than any to tell you I’ve been Fired. Fired from the 18 years I spend lost in other peoples problems while mine grow intensely like a tsunami about to hit the Boston Seawall if there is any. Not sure if you consume much news but with the growing degree of differential between my presence here in America and my ever so longing return to Jamaica. Mother Nature is melting ice caps in anticipation for my return to my tropical paradise called home. I long for warm breezes across my face on early morning rises. It seems like all my actions these days are warranting hospitalizations. How do I breathe when I feel like all the Air has been sucked from my lungs barely in taking ounces at a time of this limited Air on Earth hoping god grants me another chance to try this love thing again. Jealousy grows in me of people with their beautiful families, how foolish of me to think that life will work in the manner in which I wish for it to work. Living life trying desperately not to be lived by life but life always wins doesn’t it. 

What brings worry to your life if not for that word again which bring visceral pain from a motherhood not lived because of lack of access to it. Yuck. I’d never work again if some agency like the commonwealth could cover all my bills for all the hard work I’ve put in here in my existence on earth. But, who am I to think my words move people enough for a forward to the right ears. Pleading daily with the Boston globe and the Jamaica observer in hopes that some of my Thoughts get published so the fellow reader can indulge in proper gander of thoughts.

I digress, thank you, I appreciate your ears and eyes as I tackle the second portion of my life, once again trying ever so badly to not get lived by life.

As my family pigeon hole me into the coffin I’m hoping I’ll fit in nicely in powdered form preferably a red velvet box with a California king sized bed in miniature or is that something I’d have to Pattent. None the less I’ve left my mark here on this earth. Though most of it lays waste across my Facebook page only to be described as rants to the president for change to help myself and all other American citizens. Systems conveniently put in place to preserve virtual funding so that the burden falls heavily on US Citizens ability to keep up with the plethora of Verbage that finds itself gushing from our mailboxes. 

ChineyB, begging for a read of my avid thoughts while you munch on that perfectly Crisp croissant. I’d love to indulge but my $20 a month budget simply won’t allow. Thank god for The government, I know of no other country that provides food for its US Citizens. Ever so thankful for a place to sleep at nights as well. This big beautiful country of America has afforded me both luxury like I’ve never felt before and subtly Poverty that I dare not complain about as well. As I silently fall from my daily graces into these pits of poverty slightly comforted by a system created to help people to the independence they do graciously deserve my writing serves as a virtual diary if you may of the experiences that I will one day look back upon while tears fill my eyes of the experience, ever so grateful for you loving arms of comfort. Thank you America 🇺🇸!