Untitled 4/23/17

brokentrying to gather up the pieces of my heart that have been scattered everywhere,
will you take a heart with mismatched pieces?
fingers glued together, late nights of gentle tending,
will you take a heart
with shattered pieces?

The words “All I Am,” razor sharp, prickling, bleeding –

Will you accept a heart with broken pieces/?

Will you take me as I am/?

(Copyright Marie Meyers, 2017. All Rights Reserved.)

04/23/2017

So, no current news for writing or anything like that. Just a quick rant I suppose.

I realize that in the past 3 years I have gone through a lot of shit. Like, if my writing pieces are any indication a lot of shit has been happening. I’ve been trying to make sense of everything that has been happening to me slowly but surely. Trying to admit it to myself and to those I love and the other people around me.

For those of you that don’t know, two years ago I was in a relationship with someone and that relationship ended last year. The person I was with I loved more than anything. Even tho we fought all the time. I was going to marry this person, and have a child with this person. I was going to spend the rest of my life with him.

But he was abusive. It didn’t start off that way, we would argue and he’d get pushy. Then he started choking me. I stayed for a while before I left and, when we had broke up I had rebounded and slept with someone from my place of work. He found out and pressured me into sex. I didn’t know sex could be so terrible. I didn’t know sexual abuse could feel that way. I went to the hospital for a rape kit, I was scared to sleep with anyone for a while, I was an unhinged mess and just two months ago tried to commit suicide.

I’m trying to regain the version of me I had lost during that two and a half year time period, but it’s not easy. Every day I’m fighting demons. I’m black and white now. Every impression is a lasting one. I don’t know how to trust anyone or how to give second changes, I’m always assuming the worst in others, and I always feel like I’m falling short of Life’s expectations. Everyone I’ve been trying to get close to has ended up lying, manipulating, or leaving. I’ve spent the last year feeling incredibly alone, with nothing to live for. I want to have a meaning to be happy, but it’s hard. I’m trying to surround myself with good vibes but it almost seems impossible. And every time I take a step forward I feel knocked down. I don’t know what to do about that but I hate it forreal. All I can do now is write my feelings and hope that writing this all down will heal me just a little. I feel broken, damaged, and no good all the time. I don’t know if it will ever go away .

THE HOPE PROJECT OPEN COLLABORATION MOVEMENT

Hey guys. Marie Meyers here.

In addition to some of the new writing projects on the site, I have decided to re-launch THE HOPE PROJECT. For those of you who may or may not remember,  THE HOPE PROJECT was an anthology set to be published in 2014. Due to complications the project was discontinued.

My official Facebook statement is as followed:

So I have decided to make THE HOPE PROJECT an open collaboration project on my blog. Rather than just limiting the project to Facebook, I’ve decided to put it up on other forms of social media .

THE HOPE PROJECT was originally intended to inspire hope in individuals suffering from depression. It was intended to honor those we’ve loved and lost to suicide and to bring awareness to those who bully and put down others of the consequences their actions can have on others.

I’ve decided to scout editors for this open collaboration. These editors, along with myself, will edit and post all submissions received and work closely with the writers in question. My goal is to gain enough submissions over the course of a year to compile and re discuss publication options with Light Switch Press.

If anyone is interested, please let me know by contacting on this page or my Marie Meyers page .

In case anyone forgot, THE HOPE PROJECT submissions include poetry, prose, short stories, narratives, personal essays, artwork, etc. More information can be found on my tumblr page, jusslex.tumblr.com/THEHOPEPROJECT

Please #share the news! Let’s get this underway !

It is my goal, and always have been, to make THE HOPE PROJECT a success. Being a child of the millennial generation, it is hard to see those in my age group victims of depression, suicide, or loss. As one that has struggled with all three, it makes me even more passionate about this movement.

Eventually, I want this collaboration to include testimonies, videos, etc. It is my goal to make THE HOPE PROJECT a mainstream, charitable, non profit cause.

Which brings me to WordPress. This project is one anyone can join. If anyone is interested in joining this cause and bringing change to the future of teens and young adolescents, please contact me. We are seeking contributors, editors, artists, etc.

For more information, simply click on THE HOPE PROJECT tab in the top menu of this blog or click the link I will display below to be directed.

If interested, please like, comment, and share! If we all join together, we can bring hope to those who feel hopeless. Thank you all again! I love you very much :-*

– Marie Meyers, 2017. (Copyright THEHOPEPROJECT, Marie Meyers. All Rights Reserved.)

THE HOPE PROJECT

MARIE MEYERS OFFICIAL FACEBOOK PAGE

The Master’s Arrival I, II, III:

“The Master’s Arrival” parts I, II, and III are now available in Marie Meyer’s Erotica Collection!

“I’m naked, as usual. The wooden chair is cool on my skin, feverish, goosebumps erupting as a result of room temperature and my wanton anticipation. My nipples are hard. I feel myself moisten. Waiting and wondering is always the hardest part, but it’s the part that excites me the most. The door opens. I jolt, forcing myself to calm.”The Master’s Arrival

“It has only been a few minutes, but it feels like hours. What is he going to do? When? My toes curl. I moisten my lips…The air shifts, and I feel a pouch brush against my fingers. I take it immediately. I wait for his command. “Open it.” The sound of his deep voice makes my pussy drip even more. I do as I’m told.”The Master’s Arrival II

“…He moves around me and I feel his body brush against mine as he lowers himself into the chair. My ass is directly in front of his face. For a moment, he explores it; his large hands knead my cheeks and spread them apart. I moan. He directs me forward, then back to his side. Then he pulls me down over his lap and bends me over his knee. I gasp. “Say it,” he commands. I would love to.”The Master’s Arrival III

Read what happens when Junipyr Lee’s Master arrives by following the link below. Be sure to check out the other stories in the collection; and comment, like, and share!

Marie Meyer’s Erotica Collection

Copyright Marie Meyers, 2017. All Rights Reserved. 

Almost Like A Prayer 

​Lately, I’ve been drinking to be happy. 

When I’m sober, I can’t seem to forget how much this hurts. 

I feel like exploding. 

My mind and my heart are both a mess. 

Thoughts and feelings are boiling over. 

Imploding. 

Over saturated. 

I can’t seem to soak up any more lies or any more honesty. 

I can’t tell which is which. 

This confusion and frustration is taking too much out of me. 

And lately I’ve been falling asleep in my work clothes because I can’t muster up the energy to change. 

My arms and legs aren’t working right. 

I keep shuffling my feet and looking down when I walk. 

Scénarios play in my mind where I destroy everything closest to me, even though I feel like I have nothing left worth losing. 

I don’t want to live anymore but I’m too uncertain of life after death to pull the trigger. 

I walk every day, shuffling my feet, looking down when I walk, a gun held to my head waiting for someone to walk up and pull the trigger for me. 

In my head I aim at everything else. 

When it’s over my hands are stained with blood and I’m standing alone. 

I need God to save me. 

The last time I asked Him to kill me He didn’t do it. 

I need God.

To Save Me.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Someone,,

.

.

.

Please Save Me.
©Marie Meyer, 2017

Lessons Learned The Hard Way

Lessons Learned The Hard Way….

Sometimes when you love something you have to set it free. And I loved you, but I let you go, because I love me more. Happiness > self sacrifice; it wasn’t because of Love that I stayed with you when I knew you were lying, nor was it Love that made me stay when you were violent, I was just weak minded – I couldn’t think outside the box, because I had isolated myself so much that the only thing outside myself was you; you were all I knew.

Lessons Learned The Hard Way….There will always be that one person that loves you less, and that one person that loves you more; and I gave my all to you, only knowing how because someone once gave their all to me; and the fact that everything crumbled and slipped through my fingers is merely Karma showing me what my momma went through, I didn’t know loving someone could be so hard until you, and now I understand why she felt so hopeless raising me. Lessons Learned The Hard Way: my only saving grace is that she no longer remembers me, and thus no longer remembers the pain I put her through, under the guise called L-O-V-E. Self Sacrifice  > Happiness – for her happiness now, my memory is my sacrifice.

Lessons Learned The Hard Way….Nothing really lasts forever; the present makes way for the future by becoming the past, and there’s no such thing as making memories, because memories don’t last – they fade away like faded words on crumbling pages in old books, dusty, unopened, passed their ripened age or mint condition; and the older we become the less we remember.

That’s why my blog’s like my diary – my imprint that I was once alive and felt something for another human soul – because one day, I’ll forget these emotions like my mother before me; just like everybody else; My Milennial Generation will turn Silent, and traces of me will be hidden away in Internet Archives Archived by The Library of Congress; and the newer generations won’t think to look for my history, and I will fade away, back to dirt and dust and bone, like everything else. Lessons Learned The Hard Way….This is what we call The Cycle of Life…….and that in itself, is a Lesson Learned The Hard Way.

Lessons Learned The Hard Way….You’re really on your own, you know? Because Life is a feeling process and navigating the web of lies and strife of life is a different experience for everyone. So who am I to tell you how to feel, and who am I to write to you, as if my words can help you understand and heal, when we can only save ourselves?

When these words are just my way of navigating through the confusion I’ve been feeling, that I’ve not found any answers towards; will you reading this give me the answers I seek? Tell me what first hand advice you have for me, when you are outside of my skin,  and I outside of yours? And it’s a Lesson Learned The Hard Way, because we always try to save each other when we’ve yet to save ourselves; sometimes the hardest thing to do is to focus on yourself.

And that’s why I’ll say again: That’s why my blog’s like my diary – my imprint that I was once alive and felt something for another human soul – because one day, I’ll be forgotten, like everyone else; My Milennial Generation will turn Silent, and traces of me will be hidden away in Internet Archives Archived by The Library of Congress; and even though I’m Black, I’m not Maya Angelou or Rosa Parks, Coretta Scott King or Sandra Bland; so the newer generations won’t think to look for my history; so I will fade away, back to dirt and dust and bone; because the present makes way for the future by becoming the past, so these chapters of my life will one day fade away like faded words on crumbling pages of worn books passed their ripened age or mint condition, and beyond repair.

Lessons Learned The Hard Way….and this is what we call The Cycle of Life; and that in itself, is a Lesson Learned The Hard Way…..

Copyright, Marie Meyers. Lessons Learned The Hard Way Project. 2017. All Rights Reserved.

Lessons Learned The Hard Way (Lesson 1)

I’m just not gonna be cool with any of you, and say fuck all of you, and when you all ask me ‘What’s Up?’ I’m gonna just show you my tax returns like ‘Fuck Out My Face Talking To Me.’

Get in your feelings if you want to, it’s called self preservation, and my current mindset is a chicken dinner with that fine china and cutlery; dealing with all of you I’ll pour Crown in the wine glass because champagne won’t be enough for me. I don’t understand why people preach the importance of education, when many of you have the grades, but still act like you don’t know shit…honestly I get astounded with all the stupidity around me – and aren’t some of you with IQ’s high enough to be in Mensa, are you all fucking clowning me? – do you feel the need to sound dumb, because you feel as if you have to? Are you worried no one else will understand the intelligent speech you’d speak, and so you act slow so no one thinks you act like you’re on a pedestal?

Or am I giving you all too much credit?

Perhaps that’s it, because I don’t mind tucking my napkin in my shirt, I don’t mind acting like I’m better than the rest of you, and I don’t mind sounding smarter than all of you, because that’s what it means to be on Mob shit, and I’m bossin’ up with or without the rest of you.

And when I’m sitting on that throne with a crown silver and gold, when you’re bowing down to me, begging me for fortune, let it be a lesson to you, when I tell you, “No”.

A Lesson Learned The Hard Way: Nothing In Life Is Free.

 

Copyright, Marie Meyers, 2017. Lessons Learned The Hard Way Project. All Rights Reserved.

blunts and bottles free write

blunts and bottles,
because the sound of your voice in my head is too loud, i’m applying pressure to keep all this white noise out
shots as a chaser chase away the demon of love i thought i felt for you
every time i call you i’m running out of things to say
how can two people go from lovers to complete strangers,
when did we change
when did i stop having things to say to fill the air between us
when did we change
when did i
blunts and bottles
i went from depressed to happy to self loathing to damn near suicidal
taking loud blunts to the head, turned 21, steady always kept a bottle
white noise, just static, i don’t understand it, the things youre speaking,
why the fuck are you bringing up old shit, there’s nothing to talk about
and “if and buts” but this ain’t so we’re not,
and we can’t ever be again, can we?
my face in the broken mirror haunts me more than anything
the ER waiting room that I swore within I hated you
and thoughts of sex just aren’t the same these days
reality and fantasy, the line is blurred for me
the reality is that you and i have changed and fantasies that things could be different keep me awake;
blunts and bottles,
and i drink more than i smoke these days,
i have holes in my memory, between the first shot, and the hangover
9 hours sober, that’s the waiting limit
i remember you when i’m high but not when i’m lit
i hear your voice when i’m chillin’, i’d rather be t’d up
i’m learning when enough is enough, so i push myself until i’m too far gone,
and i want what we had, but i don’t know how to find it, i want more than what we lost, but you can’t be the one to give it to me,
who can give it to me then?
who can give me what i gave you?
it’s that thought when i’m fucked up that compels me to roll another blunt, take another shot, because i’m thinking too much, blunts and bottles,
because the sound of your voice in my head is too loud, i’m applying pressure to keep all this white noise out
shots as a chaser chase away the demon of love i thought i felt for you
every time i call you i’m running out of things to say
how can two people go from lovers to complete strangers,
when did we change,
when did i stop having things to say,
when did we change?

trying to understand the sound of static,
white noise of various frequencies i can’t translate
blunts and bottles have me pulling translations out thin air
to justify
that i’m too lit to answer your call right now
or ever listen to the voicemail
–running out of things to write and say again
scene.

-M.M.

Copyright, Marie Meyers, 2017. All Rights Reserved.

 

Untitled 

The horse came back alone. Its saddle was missing as was its stirrups, and for Maggie the implication was obvious. 

Her father wasn’t coming back. As she stopped weeding the front flowers to take in the condition of her father’s horse, she tried to place herself in his shoes. Maggie knew her father well. Knew his stubborn head and inflexibility were the key components of his dominating character and strong sense of duty.  So no doubt her father realized he was going to end up dead, and sent Gisabelle – the horse – to safety; back home. 

Her father must have known she’d understand. Nevermind the fact that she was barely eighteen, or the fact that with her older brother away from home it was only them looking out for each other.  Or the fact that she still had many things she still needed to learn from her father, from her parent. He’d never walk her down the aisle,  never hold her first born child. She was now alone in a harsh world with out her father to protect her any longer. 

Knowing her father died the only way she knew he ever wanted to – protecting his family, her – Maggie straightened her back and took deep breathes to calm her breathing. 

Her hands were shaking as she reached out to Gisabelle; she brushed soot and charred hair out her mane.
-M.M 

© Marie Meyers, 2017.

hey guys! This is Marie with my first post of the new year. I know it’s a little late. 

A couple things i want to address are the writing projects lined up this year. In addition to the finalization of HEART SESSIONS,, THE HOPE PROJECT will be relaunching. 

More details will be written in the following months. 
I personally am very excited for this.  
Since a few months ago I personally have been a victim to my own demons. A short while ago I relapsed into depression with the intention of suicide,  and had an intervention by God that’s kind of changed my life and will to live.  The initial launch of THE HOPE PROJECT came to a slow standstill; but the initial concept of the project has been redesigned.  

Here’s to a prosperous new year! 

Marie xx