Sensory overload

Between me, you, and this joint... I'm doing not so great. Pressing sour candies between my lips between drags, praying for the panic to stop. Swimming in this high.

But too far out to sea.

Eekers

Late nights are harder to dedicate myself to nowadays. Remember when that was all there was? When we would drown ourselves in pool water and drink hearty and without care. Throwing myself at people, into them, aggressively and unafraid. Once. There was time. 

Now it feels like I've hardened. As if against bitter, unwavering wind. The memories are spirits, soft and curling into the sunlight. Light as air. 

His voice, so close to the phone, drips with resentment. Anger. Disgust.

But I've been here before. I know what it means to be the shitty flake, bitch loser, eager whore.

And it's all my fault again and again and it is though trust me it's ok it's ok. 

I melt into the floor through my feet. I never look up.

I wonder

 Sometimes I wonder if I am actually alive.

There is nothing in my chest, I can't taste anything.

Take the pills, babe.

Life is actually not that bad. I think I found my family.

But up there, in this tangle of hair and madness, unrest.

Do you remember me?

It creeps

 Hi. Been a while.

Still here. Still mostly alive. :)

Can't wait to do this again.

The weed and too much sleep is this

guess i'll just give up again.

fuck it i'm high

The cracking.

there is a sound in my head. I hear it often. a gentle cracking.
making me aware. reminding me.
that I am not in control.

Strange times

The world isn't the world right now. I'm out of meds. my brain is spiraling... again.

whatever.

i have weed, a new place, i'm letting things go.
sometimes, there is clarity. sometimes, i feel normal.
i have abandoned capitalization and good punctuation, as usual.
i miss this, i miss you.

more soon.

Never changing

I don't know what I'm even fucking doing anymore.
I've completely lost my sense of self, my confidence has wavered so hard it's shaken apart beneath my feet.
I'm falling all over myself, trying to hold on to this idea, this hope and belief that soul mates are real. Love is unconditional. That this connection is magic and strong.
But he doesn't think much of me. I'm not worthy of trust, I'm manipulative, weird, unstable. I'm begging and crying over my own ignorance. And I'm not sure I'm worth the effort. I really don't feel worry the effort. I just thought I was doing everything alright for once.
I do this to myself. I'm a fucking idiot.
I'm making attempts at convincing a hard brick wall that a soft, easy existence is possible. But the cool feel of the clay tells me it's too late, or that it doesn't hear me at all.

sunlight in the winter

it's warm by the window, the sun is lying to me through plastic and over piled blankets.
coming off of two blissful weeks, medicated and warmly buzzing with tender touches, I hope for the best. but I already miss the burn in my throat, the veil falling over my face, being stable and happy with a little help.
the world shimmers and pulses, his touch is electric in the light of my stretching self confidence and perception. like for a second, I am actually what he thinks I am. there is no ominous shake around the edges, no falling into caves at the end of the night. I'll hold these memories, try to stand tall on my own.
I'm sure I sound silly, my words come out funny, I dream deeply and wake up chattering.

I just wish it wasn't so much work.

to make myself shelf stable.

free.

some analogy about swimming (drowning)

Last weekend I blacked out for the second time. It's taken a lifetime, but I really believe now, that I am not in control. Suppression only works when you lock all the doors.

I sit here sometimes, and wave my fists in the air. Write these empowering bullshit letters to myself about how interesting and strong I am and all the things that I might deserve. But I don't feel strong.

I've been in the Midwest for 6 years now. I thought I had outrun the dark imbalance, but I still haven't found my footing. But here's the thing. I'm 32. Will I ever? I have been in this mode of Don't Worry It'll Happen for over a decade, and actually making efforts for the last 5 of those years but.

I'm still just this. Good jobs, friends, a great man. And I can't pull myself above the water long enough to gulp the air and see the skies. I'm still feet below. Haunted by the warmth my fingertips feel above the foam, the sun exists, I need her. Just knowing the atmosphere is really there might have to be enough. I have a vivid imagination.

I am taking steps, I promise. I quit drinking, I am writing again, thinking about drawing. But I'm not working, I have become wary and paranoid of people, I am lashing out at my partner, I am weighted down by this strange winter. I have nothing to give, I can't follow through. I know this.

I feel better for my self awareness, though. Long thoughts in a quiet house have brought me closer to understanding how my madness works. I think about cutting everyday, but I'm doing good, I'm steering clear. The summer was harder, I forgive myself for that. In a constant state of restart, I have to be. Do you know what it is like, to try to describe this fog to another? Watching them struggle with the automatic responses - Don't I give you everything? Don't I make you happy? What have I done? And you can reach over and say please, it's internal, this is chemistry, goddamn it I'm suffocating and I'm the one tying the concrete block to my legs help me, and it won't matter. When it's this hard to talk about, you keep it to yourself. It festers.

And you learn that really, no matter how much people love you, you're on your own with this. Some try to stand valiantly with you. But it only takes one step too far for them to throw their hands up and say Fuck this, THIS is fucking crazy.

I'm just working through this, hair drifting around me in the deep cold water, I keep my eyes closed and retreat into my head. The room, do you remember it? The windows are foggy and dripping with condensation. There's nothing out there anyway. I love the way it smells, like wood and maybe pomegranate body spray. The boxes are scattered, the closet door is open. The animal is out and she purrs into my hand as I stand in the middle of this cluttered, stifling space. I talk to her, because she is me.

Maybe, for the first time, she'll talk back to me. Instead of screaming, instead of attacking. Silver eyes and my own heart. Maybe together, we can find balance, start kicking, and find the air.

Seaside (a dream)

I know that I am a nanny of some sort for a family, we're in a small town on the water, I am 16, and I am special.

The family is a mom and dad with two boys, I never get their names, but they seem to know my family and trust me. The boys have friends who frequently stay over, and I care genuinely for them. They are loud, silly, and kind to each other. They are younger, closer to 13.

The home is loud all the time, I do laundry and cook for the whole family, follow them from room to room cleaning and checking in. The dad is a very large man with a grey mustache, and he doesn't talk much. The mom is tall and I don't see her often. The home is not really a house but a hollowed out store in a strip mall, on a corner of an L shaped street- we are the last building before the street turns away and begins to run parallel to the ocean. There are other families in the mall, and the common area just outside of our inner store fronts is always teeming with people. I wonder how this place came to be. The outside store front reminds me of strip malls in Florida, with backlit rectangles that are stark white now, but once told the names of the businesses within. It's tacky and a little but rundown, but the family I stay with has made their little store warm and very much a home.

Walking in the place has a depth you'd expect from a boutique, but someone has built walls to break up the length. The parents stay near the front in a cubicle style room with it's own door, and across from the living area. There were no covering on the glass storefront, which was weird. In the middle is the kitchen and laundry, it's dark here, there are no windows and the food smells never escape. There is a small table and for some reason a couch in the dining area, and when I cook it's where the kids lounge and chatter while they eat. The parents take their food to their room. One meal I made was three parts, and the boys ate everything before I had a chance to try it, but I didn't mind, and they all said thank you. The back part of the space is broken up into two rooms, one before the other, so you have to pass through the first to get to the second. The first was mine, the second the boys'. The had a large space with several beds and hammocks, the colors were mostly orange and blues. Their room also had the bathroom in it, which was awkward for me in the middle of the night. There were still no windows, and oddly, no back door as you would expect from a strip mall. (How did they take deliveries?) My room was smaller but comfortable, my bed was away from the door and walkway with lots of blankets and a shelf installed above it. I also have a small but deep closet.

Things get weird when I start to notice my pillows are changing. One of them turns completely black and smoky white letters appear on it that form messages. There is a new message everyday, but I can't remember them now. School is starting up again soon, and the boys and I are trying to enjoy the last of the summer freedom. We go left for walks up and down the street the mall is on, this street will take us into town, or go right to the beach which is so close we can hear the water from our door. The street into town is very unsettling. Just across from us is a line of beautiful, tall, Victorian styled mansions and house. It's as if the street cuts across two totally different worlds, but something is wrong. The large beautiful buildings look as though they've been siting empty for ages. Some of them look as though they have been set on fire, hallowed out and sagging. The colors around the edges of the damage are intact and still so vibrant, and it creates a spooky rainbow in the sad view. We were told never to go in the houses, threatened with unspeakable punishment even. But I'm feeling like a teenager and the boys are just as itchy to get in one of them, but we fight the urge. One day on our way to the water, we cross the street to pass the tallest house, the one on the corner directly adjacent to the mall. I see something in the sun, just near the porch. This house is my favorite, with striking teal paint still clinging to its carved wooden accents, several leaded windows still intact and bright in the daylight. It must've been three stories tall and been a maze inside, and I found myself daydreaming about it when I was in my room, it haunts me. I move to the fence and the boys grab me by the wrists, are you crazy? You can't go in there? It's our asses on the line here. But I order them to keep watch and I jump the fence, heading to the shine I saw a moment before. The grass in the yard is green and soft, the house itself seems to be exhaling, but nothing about this seems scary. I feel the breeze and see rays of light through the front door and have to shake off the urge to just go inside. I feel so comfortable here. Shaking it off, I find what I'm looking for. I should be caught by now, I'm in plain view, the kids are hanging over the fence trying to get a look, and I laugh, this is crazy. This is a dream, and I have to find this. It's a large token, like from an arcade or car wash. It's incredibly clean and smooth, but I can't seem to make out the image engraved on it. I head back to the group and we trek to the beach.

As the kids play in the water, I sit cross legged in the sand. I hold my newfound treasure and try to remember what the message was this morning. I haven't told anyone about the weird things happening to me, and I don't feel overly worried about it. The beach is a surreal image, the water is blue green and the waves seem high and strong, but people walk easily into them and they crash gently and feather light. They get high enough that the sun lights them vividly, brilliantly, and the salt smells fresh and clean. The sand is a rich umber color, almost like red clay but smooth and crystalline as any sugar sand, free of debris and so soft under my fingers. I am smiling at the group as they try to drown each other when I hear what sounds like a bell near my head and startled, I look around. I see several people standing completely still and staring up in the midst of the chaos. It's just something I notice, it feels causal and almost normal. The sound was more upsetting, this is interesting. The beach is packed, everyone in bathing suits and surrounded by blankets and coolers. But scattered throughout the movement and noise, are these human statues. I look up, curious as to what they are looking at but I see only sky and clouds. A gorgeous sky, to be sure, but nothing out of the ordinary. I look around again, and now there is no stillness, only masses of wriggling families. I call to the kids and we head back to the mall. That night in my room I hear music that is slow and strange and seems to be coming from the floor. I try to find a way into a basement that I really don't even know exists and even poke into the boys' room to see if they are up, but they're passed the fuck out. As I head back to my bed I notice my closet light is on. And for the first time in the dream I am creeped out. I go to the closet and open the door. The closet is not wide, but it is about 6 feet deep, and the lightbulb and string are at the end. Of course. I am brave, this is fine, and I walk to the string and pull. But the light won't go out. It's stuck, or broken, and I pull harder. Suddenly, without warning the bulb catches fire! What the fuck. I grab a jacket hanging near by and smother the fire, throw the jacket down, back out of the closet, close the door, and go to bed. The music is still playing, as I lay there, I swear at times I can hear a girl's voice too.

The next morning we all have school. The boys have gotten up before me, they aren't in their beds, and I get ready in blessedly empty bathroom. I'm excited for school, and trying to forget what happened the night before. My pillow is a paragraph of tiny print, it feels urgent, but I'm running late and I start to throw on clothes. Then I hear it. One of the boys is calling my name, but he isn't close. I can hear him clearly, but he's not in the house. I run into the kitchen, and look in the direction of the beach and through the wall I can see him. He's down by the water, walking with an older boy in sunglasses and a dark jacket, and he's waving and calling my name. Get down here quick, fucking hurry! So I run out to the street and down to the beach.

There are people everywhere? They aren't there to relax, it's Monday and they're all dressed  normally. But they're wandering all over the beach without direction and sometimes, they stop and talk to one another. I approach the two boys, the young one I know comes to meet me with a warm hug and he says that the rest will wait for directions? That they are with me. I am confused, but I run my hands through his hair and turn to the older boy. He has longish hair and he smiles into my face before asking if we can walk. He asks me if I read my pillow this morning and I stop short, to ask him who he is. He tells me he knows what I've been seeing, that he's been trying to reach me, and that maybe there was still time to change things. I look up at that moment and see a large black ship in the sky and I turn back to his face. He says they can't see this, they can't see anything, we can and we have to do something. I feel this energy in my chest and I point to my favorite house and tell him to hide there, I have to do something. We part ways, he heads to the mansion, I head to the mall. The waves behind me sound heavier, and they crash loudly. I don't look back. As I run into the house the boys are there waiting, and I ask them why they haven't left for school, their parents are going to kill me! But they've been filled in about the mysterious stranger and now their interest is with me, not with the first day of high school. They hover as I dig into my bed for the token, which is almost humming. I tell them I'm skipping today, but promise that if they go to school, I'll tell them everything when they get home tonight. I ask them, Did you notice anything in the sky today? They shake their heads, and protest school again. I tell them they are the raddest dudes in the universe but right now I have some shit to figure out, so they have to pretend everything is normal until I need them for something else got it?! We pinky swear, and they reluctantly go to school. When they get out of sight, the whole town seems to have gone with them. It's so quiet, spare the water, which sounds angry. I cross the street and jump the fence. I call the name he told me, but one I can't remember now, and I go into the house.



And I wake up.


Notes:

- The boys and I have a strong bond, probably the type of friendship that I always wanted when I was growing up. Innocent and supportive, they reminded me of my little brother. Ride or Die.

- The mansions were striking, jesus. I wanted so badly to see the inside, some of them were full of sand, some of them were charred, some of them just looked like they had fallen in.

- The beaches in my dreams are goddamn beautiful.

- The depth of the feelings in this dream make me wonder if this dream has actually been going on subconsciously for years, I felt every memory and all the backstory. It was rich and interesting.

noon on a wednesday

today is foggy and windy, cold. i wish i was a different person.

careful now

Will you please keep trying? I am engulfed in madness today, the only way I know how to describe it is here, to a soft screen, to electronic indifference. My safe place, familiar. The people around me are tired. I'm a song with the same notes, badly out of tune. I wish so badly I was easier to love. But I shift, fall, bite. Collapse, this feels like collapse. Saying I love you to a solid wall, holding my breath when I feel anything. Am I the eternal villain? Is this the peak of what I have earned?

I am overwhelmed with desire, hot and aggressive with love. I burn brighter than rays behind a cloud, dissipating the vapors and shining like gold. Only to fall on shoulders and tinted glass, dismissed as a bother, as they wait for the night. All the love letters and touches, do they mean anything? The chattering thoughts and ideas, do they register at all? Or is the impending fall a distraction and the happy moments losing meaning? Am I losing everything? 

It's a black solid thing, pressing pointed fingers into my head. It feels like tearing fabric behind my eyes and deep deep deep in my chest. Holes that never heal, laughter loud and everywhere. I want to ask you to understand, but it's not my right, and it's not anyone's obligation. It's been here for so long, and I know it by name.

the last little bit

It's the sore car accident feeling.
The caffeine crash.
Bones aching so badly, deeply, ringing loud and vibrating.
My head is too heavy, it's too fucking heavy and off balance with tinkling glass and shifting thoughts.
Hurt. It hurts.
I remember being 18, sobbing into someone's lap or hair. Heartbroken, just broken, thinking this was the worst pain I'd ever felt.
This is nothing like that.
This is something I've never imagined.
When you stand there in front of him palms out. This man who makes you flutter, whispers how amazing you are into your ear in the kitchen. He looks at you and for a second you see nothing. It flashes across his face and something twisted and rusty presses into your heart. I'm a snotty crying mess, I feel like my body is being torn apart and a dark hole opened in me. And his face was nothing.
I think I'm losing this battle. I don't think I have the strength.
This was the one. I... just need to sleep.

close

it's been a long time. hasn't it.
it's been very strange, this last year, amount of time, whatever it is. and i'm breathing heavy. i'm so tired.

please believe me, i'm trying.

but i think i should stop for a while. or at least change direction. in the past, way back, before the great midwest awakening, it was eyes shut, full speed ahead. i didn't care about anything, the world was a violent shade of yellow and red. and it hurt. and i loved it. why did i love it? here i shake my head and try not to remember. but i tore myself out of that, poured bleach over my attempt at roots. i thought i could get on my fucking feet and walk like a person. that i could breathe air and smile and talk, i told myself i would try to be a functioning individual and accomplish some shit.

i wish i could say i made it. but i didn't. i went to work, got promoted, and quit. i went to school, won a few awards, got good grades, and quit. i found a soul mate, a strange frustrated man with beautiful haunting eyes, and this summer, i quit that too. some of this has resolved and returned, but let's go through this.

this summer. this summer was so hard. it was the peak of my ability to walk away from things i do not think i can handle. it was me making decisions for myself and proving that this is why i cannot have nice things. the thing is i was, as i always have been, aware that i had no fucking idea what i was doing. here's me, grand idiot, waving at the things i was so sure i wanted, waving as they burn in a field and i'm pressing the gas on a weak transmission.

the winter semester ended, work picked up, he drifted away from me. i tried to figure it out, i spent so much time trying to find a solid solution. all i wanted was to be happy for an actual stretch of time. something consistent. but my choices are strange, i fall in love with things that don't seem equipped for such feelings. i wanted my partner to talk to me, but i couldn't find him. i couldn't seem to convince him that we wanted the same life, that he just had to be patient with me so we could back to the same path and then we could walk together. it was the darkest time in our relationship- this year, after so much quiet. i thought maybe i had earned something. and it blew up in my face. i was reminded that trust is a farce, and that people are mean and hesitant. i don't even know what i wanted, i'm fucking crazy, haven't we established this? screaming internally, constantly, barely standing, but i had thought i was doing better. was i really so wrong? i did it to myself of course. that seemed to be the only conclusion. it doesn't matter that you love someone, they only ever remember when you hurt them. except me. and i am, again, and idiot. but i learned. it was a harsh but resounding lesson. and my heart is less open now, but better protected. and maybe that means it was all worth it. maybe.

somehow, i got through the spring semester. i was proud of myself. i had completed a whole year of college. i thought it was so important, i thought there was potential there. i looked into his face and searched for love and warmth. but i couldn't see through the fog.

so i moved out.

my chest ached so heavily i was sure i would just stop. the first night was brutal, and i knew it would get worse. i took sleeping pills to avoid my evenings. small, intense white pills from my last bloody episode. they kicked hard, but it was worth it after the first few nights of deep cycle crying. i sat in a cute apartment in council bluffs and burned incense. i tried to laugh with my sweet roommates, but i was fuzzy and disconnected, out of focus. i made bread, i cut myself, i wandered into the bathroom to look at my face. i smoked a lot of weed and i went to work. and people told me that it was great that i was closer! hey now we can get drinks. but i just smiled and nodded and clocked out and went to bed at noon. the friends i thought i had, the people i thought i wanted, were cascading disappointments. i befriended a youth pastor from a small town in an attempt to make new friends, he seemed safe, nice. but on the night of a work event he pushed himself on me and told me it was ok to fuck a man of the cloth. the girls joked about it when i told them, i felt a sick guilt even though i had done nothing wrong. i saw people in a new light, more importantly i saw what i meant to them. did i deserve this? i felt so angry i couldn't pull myself together and just be normal. and i wanted out.

one day, i talked to a nice man on the phone in my truck on the street in front of the apartment. he had a slow, gentle voice, i don't even remember his name. it was gorgeous outside, and early enough that our road was clear and quiet. he asked me what i liked to do and we talked about baking and art for a while. i told him i was tired and he said he could hear it. he told me it was going to be ok. i had called the hotline before, but it had been years. i had clocked out at work only an hour before. i did not want to do this anymore, i couldn't handle this. i missed my partner so deeply, i hurt all over with a deep aching that seemed to penetrate every pore. i was angry with humans, i was just so tired of my own bullshit, i just needed everything to stop before my brain broke apart all the way. how do you tell your friends and family this? how do you express that you're being eaten alive with sadness and grief that you can't seem to process like a normal fucking person. why can't i fucking process this?! the man on the phone listened patiently while i cried in waves. he told me i was stronger than i gave myself credit for. when the call ended a few minutes later, i felt better. i was sad, but not despairing. i was still in love, and that yearning was gentle and warm and unlike the cold sharp pain of nothing so i let it wash over me as i crawled into bed. i was alive, and i wanted to stay that way.

things got better after that. i felt comforted that there were people out there that cared enough to talk to a strange sobbing girl on a phone for over an hour. i felt amazing in the kitchen and in the moments at work where everything just came together. i started seeing these things and they sparkled. weed was a saving grace, and i started going for runs in the back streets of Council Bluffs, which were beautiful and brick laden, sweeping hills and colors. he let me come visit him on the weekends. i was just so grateful that i didn't mind the hesitance in his affection, the arms length. there is a vision of a life in front of me that 10 years ago i would have never thought was possible. i will do whatever i can to get us there.

so much happened in so little time. but i am in our house again. he doesn't say he loves me, but that's ok. my eyes are open. i know what i deserve, i know how difficult i must be. i feel safe here, i'm working on everything, i'm trying. i say that over and over again. i'm trying. i can do this.

i used to say that into the faces of those around me.

now i say it over and over again to myself.

i can do this.

the cycle

i am going to try to explain all the things i'm feeling but it's overwhelming. i mean...

my best friend had a baby, and while i'm mostly very happy, i'm also being torn apart by jealousy and angst. she was an amazing show of force, pushing and working. he came and as soon as he started to cry i felt like i was unraveling. watching her and her boyfriend instantly team together in a bond i'll never know. he tells her she's a champion, he beams over his new son. she sits in a hospital bed with this perfect little thing nestled to her chest and no one will ever love her like this little guy will. and i'm sneaking away to the parking garage to pull my crazy together, to get a fucking hold of myself. just get a fucking hold of yourself stephanie. she tries to get me to hold him but my arms shake and my smile wavers. here i just want to throw my arms up and scream. it's been 5 years why the fuck does it still hurt so bad! it hurts so bad. like a white hot fire in my heart, or a gaping hole of nothing. depends on the day. i want to believe that i could do it. adopt and try. but i don't feel confident. she tells me about the bonding part, but i can see it. i can see it in how she talks down into his face, how he calms at her touch. i'm watching like a starving dog. i'm just a fucking mess. i'll never know this. and i need to come to terms. i need to be an adult and get over it. i have to start now, i can't be swallowed up by the sadness. i can be an aunt. i can be happy for people. but i can't sink. i cannot let myself sink. 

meanwhile my other best friend is suicidal and angry. and there appears to be nothing in my power i can do to help. we had a fight in the truck the other night, he snapped at me and i snapped completely. yelling at him with tears in my eyes, you don't fucking care! how is it you can't fucking see? he says he knows he's broken but he isn't even trying. yea i left, i got the fuck out, but i realized that was what i had to do to keep myself alive. i realized, i woke up. he lingers in a dark apartment and never tries to try. everything is met with bitterness and fear. i can't even talk about my life now, this greatness i've achieved, it's as if i'm an asshole for doing what was needed. how can i be punished for that? i yell at him with all my force, can't you see all these people that love you? trying to blame the girls, the army, but honestly, what about you? he can't seem to get that he is important and everything else needs to fall away. he needs to breathe. we eventually just cry outright in the cab of his little truck and apologize for our communication. but the pain of seeing him break lingers. my relationships are complicated and tiring. and i don't know that i have the strength right now to work on it. i feel like giving up. what more is there to do? 

i'm exhausted. 

i want to go home and curl into my bed and cry. i want my boyfriend to talk to me but even he is lost in fog. i check my phone for messages, but usually find short sentences and random nothings. i'm riding the waves, these crashing awful waves. i don't want to be here anymore. i just want to be back where i'm safe,

far away from all of this.

there's so much i need but as i'm forever realizing. i am very much alone in this. and as stated before, i have to learn to adapt. i have to grow up. the romance and whimsy is never going to be the bandages that stick. the waves take them away and salt the scrapes. and i have to feel the sand instead, keep away from the sharp rocks. 

and wait for the sunrise. 

Always and forever

Hopes and Dreams

My hopes and dreams lounge around me
Laid out with legs entwined we replay favorite songs on a loop
The ones that swell with brass and fruit flavored voices of women
Boys on pianos, cymbals, lyrics that make our faces flush and bodies move, ever so subtly
Hopes idly twirls the string from my hoodie
Her voice is bright like striking silver coins, eyes warm honey
Forever in a rising sun
It’s hard to call what she makes as words, when her lips move it's like an idea realized
She's telling me about places far away, experience in progress
Multi layered feather soft sentences only I can understand
And it's comforting, encouraging, it's drive
She let's go of the string and reaches for a nearby piece of candy
Dreams is on her back with her feet moving open toe closed toe
Her eyes are shut, and I realize I've never really seen them
She has both hands outstretched and her fingers seem to plant in the hardwood where we lay
Her breaths are long and her glossed lips curl into a smile
Her voice is deep and it drips from her body, rivulets of crystal clear phrases
Creating condensation within my mind, clinging like rain to a window
She shifts to a position like a curled cat, stretching lithely before resting her head on my stomach
She glows softly, as if emitting a fog
A fog that smells like sandalwood and bonfires, like pure joy
She's saturation, flooding my brain with dancing images
That I can just make out, that almost come to focus
We tangle together, in tune, in time
And eventually drift away, lost at our own sea.

A courtyard

The sun shifted faster than expected today. 

These hours disappear into nothing again and again

To spend your time waiting, talking to yourself under breaths

It blurs together and drains everything else

I'm standing in a courtyard, under the windows of my friends

Finding smooth small rocks to toss above, clicking

Tinkling, sometimes bringing them to a sill

But never down to the shady grass, never here to me

So I sit, trying not to think too deeply, picking at weeds

Perhaps instead I could tend to this garden

This small circular clearing, attempting to grow wild by itself

I could push back the leaves of the lilac trees and let the seedlings beneath turn their faces to the sun

Finally able to push higher than the sharp blades surrounding

Purple flowers, fragrant and light, falling like rain

This place isn't so bad like this, quiet

I guess I won’t need the larger, jagged rocks

Broken glass gets attention but hardly achieves 

Besides, I need to be aware of my surroundings

The smell of this earth and the breezy chill are magical

And the powder blue above my head hypnotic

Emptying my pockets, I rest my eyes instead, these last seconds of a day.

sour candy sore body

i wish i could tell people how hard it is to function some days.
just above my left breast a hole gapes and creates a draft that chills me to my fingers.
i know the grief i've caused so many people.
the scars march in my eyes all day.
my brother's voice, my baby's hands.
every time i see my old city, i see the faces of the people who put their hands in my wounds, body, and heart and pulled. my breath is ragged there, my hands shake worse than usual. and dawnelle says i have to see my parents. she says i have to. but honestly i can't. please. it's hard to look into my mother's face, to see her sadness and light insanity. post traumatic, we both know suffering, but she lingers there. dad is the quiet support but my mother. she says the baby's name over and over and i hate it. i can't hear it. and i want to scream. but i don't. i eat and play with kittens. i plan my escape and i eventually hug them goodbye. as soon as i pull out of the driveway i'm sobbing. wretching. just a normal family visit, ya know.
things still hurt so much. idiot me, i always think it'll be different. and sure, i love seeing dawnelle and matthew, remnants of the tiny group i used to know. sure, i love the hidden gems like mittman's and the wizard. but i get that sticky feeling.
the strain of falling blindly and destructively through the most important years of my life.
the whole time i just wanted to get back to him.
yea. that strange yet familiar man with the soft angry cloud around his head lately. swatting at pesky thoughts and sometimes me as i hover around him and attempt to gauge how he feels at the moment.

because i can help now.
even with that chill.