furrow [part 2 maybe]

i have no idea what i am doing here. my eyes touch over things and quickly pass on.
i step back even a foot and think shit what the fuck is going on, i must be crazy.
but we're standing face to face promising each other that this isn't what it look like, hands up palms out trying to prove our sincerity while still hiding behind sarcasm and defense mechanisms. the question hangs heavy: what are we? and i don't have an answer, i would prefer we were nothing. simple flesh and blood beings in a state of existence, in close proximity.
hah. right.
anxiety, paranoia, all the wonderful emotions that wreck you when you have something bright in your eyes rolls over me in waves.
all i want in this world is something that i can have, just for a moment, that wont crash and burn explode in flames die in my arms.
i want to keep something when it feels like everything has slipped away.
lately i'm walking head up again, engaging people at work, laughing and dyeing my hair.
but its all a wonderful show, a type of game i've created, to see how much i can forget by focusing on this smile i've been putting out. smile stephanie, big. the people at work tell me i'm happy, calm, nice. inside i'm raging sometimes, crying all the time, wondering why i get out of bed at all. the depression lingers but is made sweeter and a touch delightful by the secrecy and intimacy.
no ones wants to know the other me, not anymore. i've run out of time for sugar coating and gentle whispers.
back to this though.
i'm tired of men. so tired. the interaction- burning passion in the beginning, tearing at each other, needing and seeking and warm only for it all to turn to turn cold in time. nothing like the smoldering growing love and friendship i read about in books, see in movies. i'm so tired. i've already been robbed of my womanly abilities, the rest seems ridiculous now.
i'm so bitter. lost.
so what am i doing here?
i want him to stay arms length, just far enough to hear me talk. just close enough to smell my hair and skin and want me. i need him to want me. as much as i don't want him to love me, i want him to still want me.
it doesn't make sense i know.
but its not one sided.
all his hurt i want to feed on it, i want his stories to come to my ears too, i want to keep him to myself.
it is nothing short of ridiculous.


i have to stop thinking about it and just go with it.
it never works. but the few delicious moments it does seem worth it.
touch now, fall apart later. i have been through it enough to know ill survive at least.


sigh. unfinished thoughts.

passion in violent acts [in dreams]

i killed someone in my dream the other night, it was terrible and ferocious and i was shocked at how fast and intense the whole thing was.
something was happening in a store with a huge glass front. an argument, some accusation, i dont know...

i remember-

-everyone was wearing white and khaki at one point, as though we were in school, in uniform.
-shelves with little statues and jewelry.
-the person [male?] i was confronting was standing in front of me and i was so angry. we were circling each other and the people around us were yelling for us to stop. i yelled "he skinned that boy alive he has to pay!" then i lunged and stabbed.
-after people started to leave. they walked around the dead body. i laid down with another person and we put our legs up against the wall. he hands me a bubble wrap skirt and i pull it on. he says his assistant got it for me. mari.
-i look out the window, all the people leaving are covered in blood. i can feel the sticky warmth on me, but i cant see it.

in fact all of my dreams are becoming overtly sexual and violent. i dont know why, these phases happen in my sleep.

last night in fact there was a murder and sex. ???

points:

-i had moved into a dorm like apt complex that was tall and square spare on side, which slanted down steeply. it was futuristic in that the architecture was smooth and mono colored, with beautiful balconies and plants all over. small efficient rooms, and elevators. tvs in the hallway. it was very interesting.
-it felt like i was moving in with a family, but i could never really see them. most of the people living in the dorm were young and attractive.
-i wake up in the dream and go to my balcony, its dark and there are cops cars surrounding the lower floor. a man is behind me telling there has been a murder. i get the chills, seeing images of a strangled woman in my head. i go back inside.
-later im on the balcony taking pictures of it with a camera i have to hold up to my eye. its still very dark out. i'm taking a picture of a tree limb that leans into the balcony when the zoom begins to act up. as the camera flashes i see a mans face looking at me from over the limb. i freak out and run inside.
-now we're leaving me and a small group of people, we walk to a house a mile or so away and i look back and take in the image of the tall geometrical building i live in. we get to the little house and go upstairs. everything is cream carpet and buttery furniture. men and women talk to me. i go into the bathroom and put on a lacy very revealing dress and everyone is fucking outside of the bathroom i can hear them, so i sit on the toilet and play with some makeup ive found.
-later i walk out everyone is gone and a man walks up to me and tells me i look amazing and we walk home, crawl into bed and i fall into sleep in the dream and awaken in real life.

i miss my dreams. deeply. my stomach aches when i think about them. nothing could feel look like flow so smoothly be so colorful in real life.

sigh.

if only i could stay.