Friday, March 13, 2020

Tremors

     I have consumed myself in the study of religion. They’ve all made me equally happy, which also means they’ve left me equally unhappy. As incomplete as I entered. People question these parts of me, perhaps me more than most. But I have a complicated past with spirituality. As much of a child of science as I am of witchcraft. 


     There are tremors that surround us, like the sustained notes of a song. Hidden vibrations. Some may be more tuned to them than others. What is it that the chosen must do? Endure uniqueness? to be alien, rejected, embraced for being different? To be disenfranchised from those around you, isn’t that the most dreadful curse? To be different, to be powerful, is that not a defined gift? To be alone, to be seeking another who shares your rarity. Then you would not be in solitude. A tribe, a family. Then you’re no longer unique. Nor are you alone. 

Channeling voices

I was cursed with poetry very young, cursed with unrealistic expectations. Sometimes you mis the facts but you kept catch the truth.

We should control our reality, not allow our reality to control us. But sometimes you’re compelled. What compels you?

Sometimes the truth in your eyes, clouded white could be the death of your mother. I would wish to get close to you, but the wind would blow you away. So I watch you through the glass. Sometimes rubbing sand in my eyes is more desirable than seeing you like this. Scarred by your own admission. Ceremony to show your growth. Your individuality, your freedom. Those closest to you, may love you in a way that they would do anything to save you. But I, I love you in a different way. I love you enough, to kill you. From the ashes you shall rise, with a new sense of who you are.

I don’t remember clouds when we were young, were there any? How far can we swim? As far as we can. When we got there, What would we do? Everything. I’m afraid, aren’t you always afraid?

    May life never tear apart what death combines. One day I’ll tell you my story. Then you’ll see the whole picture. You may feel that it is beautiful, but that’s only the surface. It’s perfect in its dimensions. Within it’s imperfection. In it’s disease. Then you all awaken. With that you became this thing of my creation.  Non-binary, with even larger wings than before.
     I gave it a name, as a witches spell, with a name comes life. Sometimes dying is like just going out of focus. For a while. In one eye. I put mirrors behind the eyes so that it could see although it was dead. And I got it, and a way that you always would, but it in a way that you never could. Because when I did, it was forbidden. My secret in the maze. Like so many others, from so many others. The beautiful misery of it. Sometimes you have to act crazy just so that people Believe that you’re sane. Restrained by your own actions, simply to prove a point. In this asylum, with this hysteria. Bathed like a slave of the crucifix. Am I clean? Is this what you want? To be bathed in my tears and cut off all my hair. For me to lose my identity as I take your name. Become your property. Oh how I long for the lobotomy. To be released from this rachet self awareness. The only way to remove the mirrors from behind your eyes. I lost myself in this moment, enjoying the terror of it. I should’ve chased you into the maze, for then I saw the entire future. You were not survive out there in the world, you were too weak. I love you for your weakness. Your weakness makes you perfect. But I’ll let you go, as anyone should With a beautiful butterfly. To not Tadder your wings. But you will not make it, and it is it my fault? To give you the freedom to make the choice, rather than confining you. The freedom to fly, even if into The light that burns you. It’s your choice. Perhaps if I warned you of the danger, your path would have been diverted. But is it my place? And if I did speak the words, would you listen? Or would it just create bars between us? And if you were a dead thing, shall I keep you then? Placing mirrors behind your eyes, giving your name, to bring you life? Then with that life be mine? Would you take my name? Become my possession? You could shut the door at any time, but will you? You’ve always been drawn to the deep ocean. But can you swim? If the waves spoke, would you listen? Would you bother to try to learn their language so you could learn the lesson?

No matter how much you try to protect yourself with spikes on the outside, you can still get eaten from the inside.

Sometimes you can just sit in the window looking cute until you die from neglect.

You remember when you grow in the desert there’s not a lot of moisture, so it doesn’t benefit you to grow a big flower.

Sometimes you might not have any trouble at all flowering in a bone dead climate. Sometimes you have the liberty of enjoying your surroundings enough that you can Enjoy the things you see, not knowing what they are.
You can just hang out there for another thousand years, don’t worry I’ll be back later.

 Time is important when you’re dying, not when you’re tripping. You can consume flowers if you’d like to devour the essence. The bargain section can always get hectic. sometimes you got to wear a helmet when you go in there, it gets hot. often a college student with a septum ring will lecture you on how you’re living your life. you can buy the ingredients to cure coronavinous  grants or make a bomb what you do is up to you. You can put it in your ass, just light it on fire before you put it in your ass. There’s nothing like a bunch of PhD stabbing them self over some processed cheese. You got a love this. Better that than people that do not believe in evolution. Individually packaged.  forbidden rice, What is that all about? Makes me feel that it’s a bit erotic. I want to take a bath in it. they are filled with hate like most people. But they’re relatively passive about it. if you shoplift from life they will take you in the back and take your portal ride and then shove your face into the concrete. I hope you enjoyed it. Have a nice life. I love the explosions. Right before you’re going to burst out into tears you can enjoy the scars Of the suburban folks embracing their ability to be awake. enjoy the air, it may not always be free. The journey is enjoying it. Fuck it it’s all plastic. I haven’t been this in exhausted and enjoying it in a long time. let’s see if I can make it to the top and don’t die.  when I die I hope you remember other parts of me pardon me,
Not only the tiny tree, you like that sacred geometry? My bonsai, I like reckless situations when the favor is in my direction.  if no one sees your trash, most people feel there’s no reason to not leave it. How would your mom feel about that?  I really enjoy my habitat, sometimes it’s like a strange sex toy. A little bit of vibration a little bit of pain. just before you want to vomit and take a nap. I’m hungry.  sometimes your flowers make you look like you’ve had bit of a rough night. in the end anything primal is always the destination. Often you find yourself hiking uphill in the desert against the sun’s rays hoping that you’re not going to die. Only then you find enlightenment. Everything‘s got that weird shape. You can’t escape the hedges, they’re everywhere. Actually they’re kind of remarkable. Like the Betty Crocker of botany. Apparently very tolerant of climate change. Poop The basis of everything is serpentine.  so you know when it’s hot and humid in hot as balls outside and you’re very uncomfortable, it’s good to know that you have a place that you can bathe your soul.  I’d like to show you something if you’d let me, and please indulge, how long did it take you to evolve? It’s almost obscene. Fuzzy. Different variations of you. The ocean is deep and so is your shit, but luckily I can swim. those are just the fruits maturing. I don’t care how you do your payment, but as long as you’re tied to a brick and throw it through the window or whatever, as long as we receive it we have been mowing your glass grass for over a decade and we’d like to know that you’ll take responsibility for your own actions. this is not a threat, it’s just a stream of consciousness.

Would you like to have an adventure? Now? Because is there any other time?

These life experiences have left me equally happy. Which also means they left me equally unhappy.

When someone asks you what type of music you like, there truly asking you who do you want to be at this moment? 

Thursday, July 25, 2019

We are not, who we are

We are not, who we are.
Well I can speak for myself. I am not who you think I am if we have never met. If all you have to view me is this tiny window of social media. this is not who I am. It’s barely the surface. You want to know who I am?

- I never wear makeup or sexy cloths.
- I have braces.
- My boyfriend and I have been together for 10 years.
- I’m polyamorous.
- I constantly carry a broken heart for some man who has moved on.
- I’m obsessed with documentaries.
- I’m afraid of people & making connections.
- I don’t & never smoked, drank or did drugs.
- I burry myself in work “workaholic”
- I’d much rather sit in a quiet corner and read a book then go to a party.
- Crowds scare me.
- I financially support both my parents and numerous other people in my life.
- I’m a nymphomaniac that is to scared to be intimate with anybody that I have not known closely for over a year because I fall in love with anyone I let inside of me.
- I wear out all my partners.
- I’m obsessed with growth and productivity
- I spend more time at Lowe’s & Home Depot then any other place outside of my house
- I don’t respond to my social media emails because they give me anxiety.
- My time is the most precious thing I can give someone.
- Punctuality and communication is very important to me.
- I’m very direct into the point. I don’t like playing games or beating around the bush. I have no desire in sugarcoating things.
- I keep busy to stay just ahead of my constant depression.
- I never hold a grudge, I always love somebody no matter how many times they hurt me, my love is unconditional once received.
- I have lost two lovers to suicide and one to a car accident as well as too many friends to list.
- My brother died of a heroin overdose a couple years ago.
- I’m almost 40 years old.
- I would love to have a child but my body is not letting me.
- I am a clean freak, obsessed with organization, time management, manifestation boards, schedules and goal sheets.
- I crave consistency, I don’t like change.
- I’m not secretive.
- I am a insomniac.
- I am agoraphobic.
- I’m not religious.
- I’m weak.
- I’m afraid.
- I’m cautious.
- I’m lonely.
- I’m a real person.
- I’m a open book if anyone cares to read, and I’ve been this way for as long as I can remember.

Monday, January 7, 2019

Reverie

 There’s a time to remember and that time is now. To look upon the past and the times of wow. To look into the future and to be determined. To know of your past and your fortune. To see all the love laughter and lies. To realize your life and all the things you strive. To encompass your passion and hold it within, to discover yourself and follow it through to the end. Don’t not forget who it is that you are,  for often it seems you have traveled far. And lost your self up on the sands of your past. Getting lost in the moments that don’t last. And the only way that others could see, is if you write them down in reverie.

Breath

 With each breath I begin to open my eyes,  peering into the darkness to discover all the things that have brought me here to this moment. With you, the part of my future that I did not know existed at the time of this writing. But you are here, with me right now. In the space in this moment. Holding hands, sharing breath, locking eyes in our minds. With you sharing the space with me in this moment, we are in mortal. You bring me back from the dead, you are my link  to the present. You’re my moment of now. The time that I have lost for it had not yet happened. And I appreciate that. Thank you. Thank you for being there, thank you for caring. Thank you for reading, thank you for sharing.  For we all live our meanings and mine is Art, or without it I would fall apart, so as I fall into the  land of death, I’m giving you my words with my last breath.

Bad choices

I would bleed for miles if I could just see your smiles crack through with the light of dawn. And I would long for your song to tickle my ear and remove my fear that I would be left alone. As your morning Moan caresses my soul, I learned to steer clear of the obstacles in our path. But it's perhaps because I'm not good at math but I still continue to trip over my own mistakes that begins to bend and break me. When you see, all I want is to be perfect and free, and have you seen me for the perfect being that is me. Learn not to take things so personally, for with your insecurities, you are destroying me. I try to stand up tall but then I fall as  I raise my head to the sky as tears filled my eyes and I can only cry as I struggle to see the sharp object that can release me. But no, I cannot do that, for I promised it would not be. So even though I know the pain would release me, as I see the blood flow at my feet, not as a cry for help but as a release, I digress, and it will be our progress that I learn to channel my pain in other ways. This has broken my heart and I fallen apart, and parts of this we have seen since the start, but yet we still wade through. Is it because it is new, or is this love true? And is it true that you love me as much as I love you? But it is my mistakes that break and feed your need for answers. Which plants the seed for I must be judged and not trusted because my past was robust and my ignorance leaks into present tense. You think I could make amends and with my intelligence move forward and out of the swamp of my past decisions. I have read my life script and I have made my own revisions, and it is my mission to show you the woman that I have buried under bad choices. For the sake of what is easy I have listen to the voices, and they have poisoned my right for a pure future. But if you give me another chance as the many you have given, I will prove to you that a life with me is worth living.

Expectations

 There are so many things to do in life, so many beauties to hold and to create. To grasp and to give fourth. So much to love, to experience and understand. It’s hard to encompass all of this up on the short time that we are given upon this planet. With our hands growing week as the years progress, and her eyesight feeding, our senses are dulled. But not our passion, not our desire, not if we don’t allow it. We will live forever. With the words of our past  and the things that we have placed upon this earth. For the forever, as long as our name is on the lips of the living. Forever, a mortal. We die twice, one when you breathe your last breath, Second when the last person speaks your name.  We live, we love, we try, we die. We do the best we can in the means of what we are given. To offer what we feel is necessary to the ones we love and perfect strangers.  But who is it who puts these expectations upon us. Is it the world around us, our peers, our parents, our siblings, strangers or ourselves. To whom do we answer to in the end. To what is the success or failure of our life. I suppose with everyone it is different. With me it would be with lack of placing everything into this world that I possibly can. It’s a constant flow of movement. And saddens me each time I forget to communicate. I get lost in myself and in situations at hand. As many do.  But to be lost is not my purpose. It does not meet my expectations.