Monday, February 20, 2017

Can't Hold The Pieces Any More

When you told me how you were going to wait until after to tell me to avoid my pain, I died a little more inside. And there is surprise with my mistrust. I believe it's not about avoiding my pain, but about avoiding your experience of my pain.

Colors faded more to grey, when you told me how I owed you, how you had carried me through life, and I failed you along the way.

I wanted to die a little bit more when you screamed at me that I had no dreams, which is why I had followed yours. It wasn't true you know, I had dreams. Too many dreams, so many dreams that I only ever told you pieces of the things I once wanted to be. But it never occurred to me to hold them against you, never saw them as the loss which you see all that you gave to me.

When you told me you were starting to not want to be with me anymore, it stung me to my very core. To realize that you would leave me. Truth is, in a way, you already have. You just don't want it to be true.

You tell me how I have failed you so many times along the way, and now this is your day. Mine will never come, or has long gone on, I accepted that long ago. You were my day. Eventually comes night and everything fades away.

I sit and stare at my heart on the floor.
You believe I owe you everything
and I continue to come up short on payments I never knew I owed
it's none of my business the paths you choose to walk
I'll get over it and let it go, shut my mouth and not look at the show
if I want you to stay
yet you have no intention of releasing me
you need to be free
and I'll die here on my knees
in the puddle of broken dreams.
I can't hold all of the pieces any more
so I watch them spill from my hands onto the stone cold floor
wondering why you left me on the other side of the door.

I realize now, I really was never meant to stay. Strange of you to suggest that you don't want me to go away...Truth is, I'm already gone. You chose not to take me along.

You gave me a choice--my pain or your hate. So shudder not at your discomfort with my pain.

Monday, February 13, 2017

Saturday, February 11, 2017

Behind the Veil


Over It

I'm so fucking over it. All of it. Just. Fucking. Done.
I'm tired of being bullshitted. I'm tired of her having anything to do with my life. I'm tired of feeling misled and being treated like a failure for not trusting absolutely.  I'm tired of living with the constant mental noise of half a million people and feeling so goddamned lonely. I'm tired of life. Just. Fucking Tired. I want to sleep forever and wake up three years ago. Want in one hand and shit in the other, eh?


Thursday, February 2, 2017

Perfect Storm

It's easy to say that I'm difficult to love, really fucking hard to handle, misunderstood, that people don't know how to deal with me because I never. Quite. Fit.

I am outrageously me in a world without belief.

It's another thing completely to realize that those words are absolutely completely true.

It's 10:00 at night, I'm browsing poetry and listening to this on repeat just loud enough that the child doesn't wake (pretty loud honestly. The kid sleeps like a rock when he's out).



I never realized that it was different to grow up talking to fucking trees, or never questioning the concept of controlling the elements, or feeling other people's thoughts. I never felt it out of place to hear the sentence, "I'm married to a witch, so"...

I never comprehended the concept of sitting on my knees listening to him explain to Omega that on my knees is where I communicate best, if you want to know my heart and soul, if you want to be heard and felt to the depths of my being, that is where to put me--any test of truth is going to shine through, me in my rawest form, odd to see I'm sure...

I didn't know that one is not supposed to laugh in millionaires faces and treat them like children when their behavior warranted such, that one does not (apparently) repeat unwanted truths to a CEO over and over again, or just outright fucking rebel against injustice, that to choke on your drink and announce that someone has no clue what the hell they're talking about is frowned upon...

I didn't know how absolutely abnormal it was to go around spewing emotion. That not everyone feels every-single-goddamned thing with a burning, all-consuming intensity.
Bleeding messy blood-red dreams shamelessly into a world of beautiful pastels...Creates difficulty.

I am not easy to handle. Part of never actually realizing that, was in not giving myself enough credit--if you think you aren't really all that much, you can never comprehend how much it takes to deal with you.

I could say that I am a combination of unstable elements, but the truth is, I am the perfect fucking storm.
"A 'perfect storm' is an expression that describes an event where a rare combination of circumstances will aggravate a situation drastically.[1] The term is also used to describe an actual phenomenon that happens to occur in such a confluence, resulting in an event of unusual magnitude. The term "perfect storm" is nearly synonymous with "worst-case scenario", although the latter carries more of a hypothetical connotation."

I used to think that it was conceited to think of oneself in such terms. Now my brain's like, "Girl, you just fucked up. That ain't no compliment!" so we're all good.

I don't know how people keep it all in, often hidden even from themselves...
How does one never spill rage when they can feel it exploding in flames around them?
How does one bother to pretend when pain isn't rolling off of them in waves?
How in the fuck does one love just a little?? How do you hide that shit, ride it out like a secret that only matters in the night, hide it from the ones for whom you feel it the strongest, only feel it halfway??

People forget where they came from, decide there's some shame in pain, and hide everything behind their good name. It's the name of the game.
And when I find that I have to play, I discover that those whom I love and trust the most are the ones who pay, because spilling it out to them becomes an all-consuming need, preceding everything.

The truth is, we're all humans desperately clinging to humanity's remains. We live, we love, we fight, we get each other all fucked up. Mostly because we are afraid to admit our love, and in that silence, we either don't love enough, or we love entirely too much.

Wednesday, February 1, 2017

Feel You

I worship you only in midnight’s temple
I feel you
Only in the moonlit garden of my mind
As through my dreams you unknowingly sweep
Softly touching upon things that cannot be.

And I only feel you
Only
Feel
Making me wonder, are these delusions in my mind,
Teasing me with things you don’t feel,
Sensations that aren’t real
Knowing full well the deal
That they could never be.

Sometimes I think I’m fucking crazy.
As I watch you wander through my mind and things go hazy
Then comes the light of day
And you push gently
Oh so far away.

Close me out
Make me doubt
Because I only feel you
Perhaps I’m crazy, or maybe insane
Perhaps my vision and magic got lost in all the pain
I noted that, oddly enough, you never doubted that I made it rain.

Why didn’t you question
Why didn’t you run away?

We are strangely predictable
You and I
So carefully you maintain the wall between us
Often paper thin, yet softly unyielding in its prophylactic film
Yet there are those random moments
Wherein I look up and it’s gone
When there is nothing filling the space between.

And those moments, they’re fucking beautiful
They haunt me, no matter how much I try to push them back, they remind me
Of those things that shall never be
Yet a second after they’re over…
I know that my head shall never rest upon your shoulder
And the guilt sets in
Because I know
That you’ll pull away
An inevitable repercussion of your wall’s little slip
And because I know, that I shouldn’t feel as I do
That spark between me and you
As I am his
Destined to love and serve
Always on my knees
Eternally at his feet.

And I’m suddenly sorry
For that moment when our fingers touched,
And my eyes met yours
No walls, no space between, nothing besides you and I
For that beautiful millisecond.
Because, inevitably, I know that you are then going to step away
Make a space
And for me there is no grace
For I’ll remain always 
In my place on my knees in front of him
Wondering why I dream of your face
Wondering if my inner guide has somehow died,
Leaving me with only delusions
Of feeling you.
Wondering if anything I see is actually true
In a world filled with shades of blue.

And in the end
All I can say is that I’m sorry
So fucking sorry
To you
To him
To you both
More than my words can ever express
For my state of mental undress
Because I tried to cover it
Tried to drown it
Attempted desperately to remind myself that it wasn’t valid.

And so I sit
In the midnight garden of my own mind
Feeling crazy outside of time
I’ll always be his
And you’ll never be mine
So there is no rhythm and rhyme.
After those moments, when you let the wall down completely,
Those seconds of excess feeling
You.
I am guilty because of how lovely and comfortable you feel.
And I’m sorry
Because I know that you’ll pull further away
Each and every time.

It’s funny, you know,
I am under no illusions that you’re an asshole too
You have all of that within you
Easier to accept in someone who does not own me
But I do know
All of those things you can be
And I don’t think that you completely believed me
When I offered you a home
 In acceptance beyond anything you have ever known
The definition of my cover blown

And I’m sorry
That I felt the call of, not only his, but your
Divinity
Echoing through infinity.
For you are both
Far more beautiful souls

Than either of you could ever know.


Sunday, January 29, 2017

Emotional "Kinks"

I know that I'm still ridiculously behind on replying comments...I haven't forgotten!

I was thinking about what turns me on, what gets me off, what makes me melt and creates that sensation of absolute, "yes, whatever you want whenever you want it" with no inhibitions or reservations.

What really floats my boat.

The thing is...They're my emotional kinks. And to call them kinks seems so trivial, so minimizing, because a kink is ultimately more about what you like than who you are...

Security. Safety. Fear. Loyalty. Trust--real true, deep trust. Baring my truth with no reservations and being accepted--being mentally and emotionally naked, which also ties in with humiliation I guess.

At the core of my emotional "kinks" lies having a deep and unquestioning sense of safety and security. Everything else spiderwebs out from that.

He's been trying. Really fucking hard. And honestly, I haven't done great at jumping off the bitch train. But I had the above realizations as he was wrapped around me before heading out the door this morning. Because I felt that sense of safe and secure rolling off of him into me for the first time in a very long time. And I just wanted to crawl into it and curl up, and stay there, and please it, and exist only there. Always.