I keep trying to convince myself that I haven't been in love yet.
And I think that's because I certainly have loved, but it didn't last.
And I think my heart is broken because the reality is that love sometimes doesn't last.
And I think I always secretly hoped and believed and wished that love always lasts.
So the fact that I've loved before and lost it, means that there is less of me to give.
Like some how I am a little dirtier, or a little more worn, than if I had never loved.
Because I think somehow I believed that love was not a renewable resource.
And I'm only now learning that love can come and go. Love does come and go.
Some infinities are greater than oner infinities.
So you thank love for having joined you and you whisper "so long" as it leaves.
And then since you gave away all your current stock of love you go and sit quietly and recharge.
Like you're a battery.
Like you will love again someday.
But batteries go bad, too.

So I'm doing this new thing
Where I fall in love with you because you are completely unattainable.
I'm in love, and it's great.
And I don't care that you're not.
And that is the key.

ice.

You balance yourself on the edge of a blade

And float along taunting it.

There’s a trust in your tools rarely possessed.

A calmness that transcends upwards

In a slow trickle from the tip of that sheer streak

To the whites of your eyes that look at me and scream…

…but I promise if you teeter there, you won’t fall.  

Please just look at me a little longer.

Look at me and realize I’m looking back.

Look at me and let me balance with you.

Please just look at me.

tiny twinnnngging dancer

I just sort of fling about.

Toss things in funny directions.

Spit up on myself and trip.

One second I’m freezing cold and the next I’m in Africa.

In my head it’s all one big twirl.

And not the good kind with a clear start and an impending finish.

But rather, the kind where the dancer just keeps dancing.

Just keeps spinning..

And the crowd, rumbling, starts to applaud..

Cause she still hasn’t stopped…….

places

Places exist on my skin that frankly, I don't want touched.
They mean other things.
They mean other people.
They are rough or scarred or blurry.
I've spent years dodging hands and arms and touches and kisses. And I'm good at it.

But you….
... have successfully found all these new locations I didn't know I had……

Move me.

Though I try,
 I can't seem to come up with an image
 more attractive than your open lips on my forearm,
 slipping slowly downward 
 leaving trails of lust 
 where your tongue has been. 

 And onward, 
the freedom I denied 
in favor of your control, 
move me. 
Continue to move me.

Laying Around

and as you lay there you wonder where the sun went
and why you're still not tired.
and why you couldn't get it all done.
and why does the laundry pile up so quickly
and will this vicious cycle ever break
and will anyone ever love you
and is there life outside our universe
and if you remembered to lock the door.

Snuff

How did I do that?
How did I snuff you right out?
How did I scare away the life in you when quietly,
all I had hoped was to take hold of it's hand's grasp for a moment
and ring rosy in a circle in the green grass on the hill that we passed
when I said
"don't you want to just run and not stop"
and you said "I used to..."

Lastly

and lastly, but possibly most importantly, why it's certainly been more than four hundred and twenty seconds but you're still wide awake.

So is this a race?

it's silly really.

minds just race. 

running off on their own on a quiet false start.

only to realize the ballistics they've just put their bodies through.

but how can we prevent. protect. procure.

how can we keep ourselves from lurching forward toward our finish line

before the sure sound of fire.

how painstaking, the moments before the start. 

those moments, and each one feeling like minutes

stand one on top of the other, bumping borders rudely.

It's kind of like...
my love funnels out of me through a hose.
I turned it up to full force and velocity, and the stream of water came so very strong.
And then I lost control of the hose..
and now it's just spraying out everywhere, uncontrollably, with a mind of it's own.
And it won't stop..
Until it runs dry.

I'm not entirely sure if I'm more frightened or excited.
Because the traits your showing, I've realized, are the one's I've wanted out of you the whole time.
To be soft and sad, to be deep and wide, to be unattainable.
That is what I wanted right?

I guess I just thought you'd be all those things, but see me, too.

Am I that fucking damaged that you can feel me pushing you away even when I let you hold me close?

from her lips I heard her say
"Can I have you"

caught up on what to say...
I said "you do".

This is my favorite part of the process.
Everything stings; exploration is in full swing.

But I know by now, all too well...
Which of your little flaws I will slowly press my thumb into,
until I can no longer bear them.

I can't seem to stop studying this moment...


and you....



While I am more than certain that the love I seek does not exist on this earth...

...how badly I want it to be you.

Sorry

I imagine you're ego is bruised.
Guess you shouldn't gamble with something you don't want to lose.

Today I found that I was far more interested in laying in the grass than in the things my generally daily grind had to offer. And conveniently enough the stars aligned in such away as to afford me such luxury.

This is going to be a long week. This is going to be a tough week. My vision is blurry, cloudy. It's always tough to focus on the important things in times like these.

It's tough to recall why the "important things" are the "important things".
It's tough to wonder why my definition of "important" can so quickly and radically alter.

I don't have time to waste on wasting time. What is going to give here?

Calendar

Time it takes to get to know someone on the most minimal of levels. One year.
Time it takes to get to know someone before they get to meet your siblings. 6 months.
Time it takes to get to know someone before they get to meet your parents. 16 months.
Time it takes getting bothered by someone before you actually spend any planned, non-required time with them. 4 months.
Time it takes getting bothered by someone before you actually spend any planned, non-reqiured time alone with them. 6 months.
Time it takes before you appear before someone without frills, makeup adjustments, or an unplanned wardrobe. 6 months.

Time spent fearing getting close to someone and creating rules about never allowing it. eternity.

LOL

Dear Diary

Should I do it? Should I write about my day like you're supposed to in a diary?
I don't really know if you'll like what you'll find.
I don't really know if I'll like what I'll find.
I don't really know if I care.

So it started at 4:44am when my "sleep cycle"  tone entitled Belfast Park rang the alarm that I had rolled over in bed and begun the plunge toward the top of my cyclical resting time. Did you follow that? It's quite a mouthful.

I promptly rolled over again and carried on.

At 7:45 I woke with the bittersweet realization that I had in fact, rolled over again and carried on. At this point, I was 45 minutes late to my first appointment of the day.

Let's pause there momentarily and dissect the word appointment because why not.
The way I like to think of it, and let me tell you I have no idea if this is actually the breakdown, is that you are pointing, with your index finger, at a time of your day and saying "YOU! 3pm!! YOU are the time at which I will do THIS!".

To my defense, I hadn't checked into my full size (not even queen. I don't even get queen!) bed until 12:45am so I desperately earned that extra few hours.

I'm already exhausted writing only this much, and I haven't even walked you through the adventure I explored in the bathroom after waking. I can't do it. I can't write about my day like a normal girl. Maybe you can have highlights. Or lowlights. Or one appointment at a time. There's just SO much intricacy. So much detail. Every sensation is noticed, notated, memorized, recorded and often scarred, seared or branded in.

At this moment I am exhausted.

possession of value

They are sheer and thick gold scissors kept in the muddy bottom of a makeup bag.
They were taken away to be washed, as if someone was trying to be helpful.

what they didn't know was what they were actually taking away from me....

I'd really like some day to be the kind of person that people look at and think...
"She's just not from this planet, is she?"

The kind of person who speaks, and when the listener hears the words and how lusciously rare & potent they are, for a split second, forgets to string the words together and catch the message.

I'd like to wear any sort of article of clothing and look totally the intentional.

I'd like to be so well travelled that you can just tell that I'm so well travelled.

I'd like to know how to pronounce everything on the menu, and select a suitable wine accompaniment.

I'd like to be brave, and I'd like to be calm.
I guess I'd like to be happy, mostly.

When I see you...

Do you know what I see when I see you?

I see the peace that I am seeking.
playfulness from a childhood I never knew.
consult with the stars about the road ahead.
sampling morsels for the night we'll tie a knot.
twenty-five hundred names for a little being.
exactly where every wrinkle is to develop
and a photo with three generations.

Even If

So even if he were to decide that this was not what he wanted.
He is getting all of me, forever.

last night

last night he whispered that he loved me
and I pretended to be asleep.

I know he is scared because he has never been more sure about anything in his life.
I know I am scared because I have never been more sure about the same thing.

tucked in the parts of me that need tucking
holding onto the pieces of me that need holding
breathing thick and speaking through fingertips
wet lips
wrapped in your never-ending skin,
the scent seeping in
I'll spend the whole morning breathing you back in.

Ask

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“I know you’re busy doing all the things you always planned to do but remember, today is the day that you kiss me.”

—	I wrote this for you,  Iain Thomas

“The conversation between your fingers and someone else’s skin. This is the most important discussion you can ever have.” Iain Thomas

and really
this is just a collection of notes
like a field book guide
to me...

a matter of preference, you see.

I prefer not to know you, actually.

While you sit on the bench across from me, with your pack you are either coming or going. 

And while i'm certain you lead a life of adventure, and that you might love me violently and desperately, and our fingers might be meant to intertwine, and the legacy of our love was meant for the eternal, I will remain here in silence. 

Because you probably actually suck, And I prefer to dream alone. 
So I will not look too long at your face, for fear you will in return look up.
And i will be thrown backward in immense velocity from the force of your glance. 

And, well, we can't have any of that.

“I am not the first person you loved.
You are not the first person I looked at
with a mouthful of forevers. We
have both known loss like the sharp edges
of a knife. We have both lived with lips
more scar tissue than skin. Our love came
unannounced in the middle of the night.
Our love came when we’d given up
on asking love to come. I think
that has to be part
of its miracle.
This is how we heal.
I will kiss you like forgiveness. You
will hold me like I’m hope. Our arms
will bandage and we will press promises
between us like flowers in a book.
I will write sonnets to the salt of sweat
on your skin. I will write novels to the scar
of your nose. I will write a dictionary
of all the words I have used trying
to describe the way it feels to have finally,
finally found you.

And I will not be afraid
of your scars.

I know sometimes
it’s still hard to let me see you
in all your cracked perfection,
but please know:
whether it’s the days you burn
more brilliant than the sun
or the nights you collapse into my lap
your body broken into a thousand questions,
you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.
I will love you when you are a still day.
I will love you when you are a hurricane.”
― Clementine von Radics

don't touch me there.

On the back of a motor bike
On the back of a motor anything
that goes fast
lots of wind
forced tears
on the back behind you
don't touch my leg there.

reservations

you visited me in my dreams last night.
you were reserved.

the trouble with words is that I don't know the right ones.

Breathe you in.

I'm ashamed, but here's what I know.

arms that are bigger than me
ground lit by a cell phone
rocks, uphill...
clear.

clear air.
the brightest stars I've ever seen
the crystal metallic motion of the black and silver lake
my head on your shoulder.
words. breathe. tenor.

scent, comfort, closeness.
guard down
embrace.
arms that are stronger than me.
sleepy, sleepy, sleepy.

my hand in a hand.
lead.
breathing in.
rest on top of chest

fire
man...strong man.
wisdom. honesty.
happiness.

a promise.
a breaking of the promise.
a long ride home.

My heart is tired

From falling in love

Over and over and over.

 

my skin is red and raw

from the many fingerprints that have graced it.

I’m simultaneously pushing away

As I am being held close.

 

My head is tired

From falling in love

Over and over and over.

It's a hard floor to land on.

Crowded House

Let it go
Get it off
Send it away

“Love is more than blind. It’s brain-dead.” 
― Ellen Hopkins, Tricks

_

“You were a summer gift, one I'll always treasure. You were a dream I never wanted to wake up from. You opened my eyes to things I'll never really see. You're the best thing that will ever happen to me.” 
― Ellen Hopkins, Crank

I keep re-living as much of that night as a I can
for fear it will fall from my faint and fleeting memory.

And so I will spend one year

preparing for you.

why can't I recall any tiny thing more
than thick hands and a few thick kisses

the distinct force behind being one of restrained anger
of deeply rooted fear

and so
it has become my life's best mission to melt you down
make you stay
make you feel safe.

?

How'd you get such big hands?

waking up

How intoxicating
the scent of my skin
after a night spent
wrapped in the grasp
of a man who's shape
I'm only just beginning to learn.

|_

Many will call me an adventurer, and that I am...only one of a different sort: one who risks his skin to prove his truths.

 

 

Ernesto Guevara

Long Term Relationship With Myself

So I’m in a long term relationship with myself.

 

And I’m finding that I’m noticing things around me, people around me, in a different way.

I’m learning to be a friend, and learning about friendship.

 

I’m learning to value things differently; time, energy, rest.

 

I’m learning about how to measure the worth of things seen and unseen.

 

It’s always a learning curve, isn’t it?

But most of all, as I’m fostering this long term relationship with myself,

I’m diving deep into the depths of my soul. My heart my mind.

I’m learning who I am, and what I want.

And that way, should someone come along, I’ll know it.

And I’ll be ready.

Love

So he had taken me to a place that was very beautiful.
This enormous, majestic waterfall with a perfectly rounded swimming hole at the base.
The slate soft rocks had been carved out perfectly over hundreds of years, to suit sunbathers.
It's like they knew.

So anyways there we were in this beautiful place, and it was a beautiful day.
We hiked this long, skinny and windy trail to reach our destination, and as we walked he talked.
He asked me things like "what are your aspirations" and "what do you do to relax?".
Quickly it became clear that this inquisitor had taken me on a date.
Much to my lack of knowledge, and much more to my dismay, it became clear that I had been swindled.

Swindled into being on a date. The last place in the world I wanted to be at that moment.
I was sick of spending days in front of beautiful waterfalls with someone who wasn't Him.
I felt like an adulterer even being near someone who wasn't Him.
Sick to my stomach with guilt, I mindlessly droned short, non-descriptive and pretty over-the-top ambiguous answers to his many questions.
I didn't feel like sharing my prepared answers with anyone but Him.

"Have you ever been in love?" came the doozy swirling off of his quickly-whipping tongue.
"Have you?" I dodged.

Droning on and on for moments as I heard the tale of the young woman who made him quite happy for a period of time, he finally came to the clause that I stand very firmly against. "But I don't love her anymore".

In my head I scolded him for believing he had ever been in love. I know quite positively that if you fall in love, you never fall out.

_|

“The best people possess a feeling for beauty, the courage to take risks, the discipline to tell the truth, the capacity for sacrifice. Ironically, their virtues make them vulnerable; they are often wounded, sometimes destroyed.”

—	Papa Hemingway

DAMN BITTERSWEETNESS

the key to comfort in the deepest place of darkness is light.

the key to comfort in the deepest place of darkness is light heartedness.

the key to comfort in the deepest place of darkness is to take your mind away.

the key to comfort in the deepest place of darkness is to take your mind up.

the key to comfort in the deepest place of darkness is to focus on the light.

the key to comfort in the deepest place of darkness is to remember that this too shall pass.

WHY CAN'T I WRITE AND MAKE SENSE ANYMORE?

Dear Sir,

I apologize, as some memories I had planned for us have been spoiled.
Some trash is laying on our bedroom floor.
I can't seem to remove the stench.

Please make sure to come home anyway, I'm dying to meet you.

hilarious

The ebb and flow that is life cracks me up.

 

For a week I’ll be blasting Passion Pit with the windows down, invincible, unafraid, and energy coming from everywhere.

Then I’ll hit a day where all I want to do is listen to Ludovico and sleep. I can’t find my smile. Nobody gets to come in.

 

It’s natural, really. Such is life, as they say. Chemically, Mentally, Emotionally, that makes sense.

Archaoism

"...and forgive me because i am a little irrational at times; forgive me, because i am made of an organic composition that is not of this earth. i am from some plane that was not meant to exist here and i have been trying to find my home in vain for what feels like a thousand years. there are times that i think i have found it in your chest, but you are somewhere else and i am here and i think that maybe i have this tendency to over do, this inability to comprehend that maybe my insides are made of too many tender things that these people around me have no interest in.

too many shots down on an empty stomach and all i want to do is kiss you, but instead i think maybe i will climb upstairs, curl into my bed, and remember that there are things inside of me worth loving and maybe maybe maybe one day they will be seen.

”

“because i don’t want to blow up your phone at two in the morning with drunk texts”, archaoism

Ahh but that's just how I like it.
Completely consumed in dance.

restless

Alright, well here we are again.
Allow me to provide you with the setting.
Dark. It's 3am.
Somehow my mind just isn't resting.

Laterally, horizontally, sprawled.
Half-covered, half-clothed, inconclusive.
I hate this feeling, what's it called?
churning yet proceeding to live.

“
Everyday I rewrite her name across my ribcage
so that those who wish to break my heart
will know who to answer to later
She has no idea that I’ve taught my tongue to make pennies,
and every time our mouths are to meet
I will slip coins to the back of her throat and make wishes

I wish
that someday
my head on her belly might be like home
like doubt to doubt resuscitation
because time is supposed to mean more than skin
She doesn’t know that I have taught my arms to close around her clocks
so they can withstand the fallout from her Autumn

She is so explosive,
volcanoes watch her and learn
terrorists want to strap her to their chests
because she is a cause worth dying for
Maybe someday
time will teach me to pick up her pieces
put her back together
and remind her to click her heels
but she doesn’t need a wizard to tell her that I was here all along

Lady
let us catch the next tornado home
let us plant cantaloupe trees in our backyard
then maybe together we will realize that we don’t like cantaloupe
and they don’t grow on trees
we can laugh about it
then we can plant things we’ve never heard of
I’ve never heard of a woman
who can make flawed look so beautiful
the way you do

The word smitten is to how I feel about you
what a kiss is to romance
so maybe my lips to yours could be the penance to this confession
because I am the only one preaching your defunct religion
sitting alone at your altar, praising you out of faith
I cannot do this hard-knock life alone
You are all the softness a rock dreams of being
the mistakes the rain makes at picnics
when Mother Nature bears witness in much better places

So yes
I will gladly take on your ocean
just to swim beneath you
so I can kiss the bends of your knees
in appreciation for the work they do
keeping your head above water
”

—	Mike Mcgee, “Everyday”

As recounted to a friend on 3/25/13

 

Okay so, I was leaving my boyfriend's house, when my car broke down because it was time for service.

 

My car rudely blurted out “please head immediately toward Ramsey, New Jersey for your car servicing”.

 

I of course, was late for work so ,totally upset, and then confused at the fact that my car was literally driving itself in the opposite direction, toward Ramsey, New Jersey.

 

Besides in the opposite direction, it was additionally in a direction I had thought to be a dead end road. My car finally crunked to a hault, and I got out, only to find myself in a very out of place “Meca”. Burger Kings, Barnes & Nobles, literally a city in the middle of what had just been a rural area. I soon recognized it the Community College’s dormitory and surrounding area.

 

So weird. So cramped. I tried to just walk back toward my car, and found myself walking amongst a zillion students. I had some sort of dysfunction or disability that was not allowing me to walk. One of those indefined dream moments…Similar to the fact that my car wouldn’t move forward, or in the right direction, I myself couldn’t move forward, or in (what I thought) was the right direction – TOWARD WORK! TOWARD HOME!

 

So, I turned and walked into the city.

 

I was found by a young man, tall in stature, brown hair. I vaguely remember his face.

He was funny looking, not quite grown into himself yet, but promised handsome.

He could tell I was lost, but still I told him I was trying to find my way.

He decided to help.

He lead me around all over the place, through hidden doors, underground tunnels, back streets, everywhere.

 

Through houses that I thought might be my boyfriends – that is after all, what I was trying to get back to –

 

But I was having fun with this person. He was calmly, discretely playful.

I felt like a weak, innocent damsel in distress. At one point, he picked me up to walk across SOMETHING that I don’t remember.

 

The way he scooped me like I weight two feathers……

Finally, this young man and I recognized the house we were in to my boyfriend's. The family we talked with was my boyfriend's.

My boyfriend's dad said “What’s he doing in my house?” and pointed to the young man.

Then I said “Alright, I’m late for work, bye!” and I left out the back door.

My car wasn’t there though, of course. So I came back in and kept talking with them.

 

But the young man wasn’t there anymore....

And I don’t remember anything more. I think I woke up…

/

Sometimes I want to
die so that someone
will see how much
goodness/madness
there was/is
within me/without me.

too good to be true

I don't believe in "too good to be true".
I believe in "so good, okay now let's make it true."

Update on Wellbeing, Part 2

Would it be okay if I started again?
back to the second layer of slightly deeper pink that I feel is covering my body.

I am pretty words put together that don't make sense.
I am silently walking with my head down, trying to stay out of the way.
I am sorry, that I am irritable, because I am wounded, because I have been struck.

I am heavy eyes
I am block
I am black


but simultaneously

I am hungry
I am thirsty
I am eager
I am thrilled

but i just..

can't...

...move.

There is too much weight. everywhere.

Update on Wellbeing

I tried to comfort myself yesterday by suggesting that the distinct scent of hotdogs was perhaps the residual scent of rowan, who may or may not have burped turkey chili in my general vicinity. It's plausible, right?

I am feeling like every centimeter of my skin has had the first layer of skin peeled off. Like, that deeper pink colored skin after you've accidentally peeled off live skin, is everywhere. Does that make sense? I'm so inarticulate in this moment. I hate that I chose the word centimeter. I chose centimeter because inch is cliche and millimeter smells funny, and reminds me of this strangely green tape measure I currently have tucked away in a drawer in a black credenza in my studio that should be paradise, but currently is war.

I think I misspelled credenza. I think I misspelled alot. I think I misspelled misspelled. Yikes.

Good God I'm so irritable lately. What is it, what is it!
I am openly admitting to being cranky and I'm trying to sort it all out.

Things I've noticed/Symptoms

I am increasingly sensitive to smells.
(Or at least, for sake of being super clear, I am seeing colors, hearing sounds or feeling textures that are making me so sure I am smelling certain scents. This could be a clue that I am hypersensitive at this moment to my synesthesia, which could mean I am feeling overloaded and overstimulated, which could end in red hot flowing lava billowing up and over and out of me.)

I will keep you posted.

SOUL

I see people every day who don't know their own soul. Who hide from it, who starve it, who even fear it. But I'm here to tell you there is no better health, no homeostasis like that of a stroked soul; plump with adoration, warm with delight.