The scent of someone familiar takes me to another dimension, I fly quickly through the vast fog of reality back to a moment, a second...I'm so small and light, this person is massive, wanting me to grow and be big, to cover them in a thick molasses of love that's suffocating and not real. I try to climb up and be that person, but I can't. I hear them move, my eyes are closed to the bright light...its on purpose, it doesn't want me to see the demise of what I long for...escaping my true essence of my soul I reach out for one more chance to get what I want, what I need, and desire. I feel the fabric of his skin slip through my fingers, the tips close in on each other to try and get the last shred...can I hold on? No, its gone. Vanished with the thought, my manifestation of misery has happened upon me again. A small child in an adults body seeking out the mother that never was. Wandering the earth despite the cries of help, like a fawn lost in the fog. Why have you forsaken me? Inappropriate words come to mind, there is little suffering but it all seems so big. Others are lost in their world too, have some compassion....these are the thoughts..flashing in and out of the manic delirium of space. Find the gap in existence and squeeze through, beyond this side of your incoherent whisper...come back to what you know..the lack of laughter, the vacant smile, dark eyes of a dead soul. Lure the soul to the place of rest, no longer resist the temptation of the past...regression is the sign of weakness.
Instability keeps me wounded, reminding me of the times when I was able to draw from someone else, from their pain and make it mine, or their love, passion and use it to create a drawing, a word, something magnificent.
Reckless, using my dark side to wreak havoc on the lighter notes of my fingers tips, like a pianist who has gone mad, pulling her hair out despite the beauty in the music.
Abandonment, feelings of losing myself because of someone else's ridicule, someone else's blame, suffering in silence over the fear of emerging into a new being, holding on to the crutch...letting go of the freedom.
Roses, the smell, color, softness, light, comfort of the hue of love, being in the sensual body of the flower, grasping for the stem while getting sliced by the thorns
Love, just a word, meaning nothing without the embrace of the emotion
Edge, return to the abyss, leaning over in order to tempt the soul to jump.
Reminder, remembering the past without feeling the deep cuts of the wounds inflicted. Give the soul time to breathe, hold on to nothing, the reminders are illusions.
Soul, my soul is on fire, it longs to escape this humanness and be free, to fly with the others who beckon it to break through the monotony of this place, these smells, these infractions of what we call life.
Colors, they make sounds only I can hear, my mind races with the images they make, rushing through my brain painting pictures of everything I feel, all the things I think. Creating what I do not want, and erasing the precious I have held on to for so long.
Selfish, its me, evident and real. I feel as long as I admit it, it will be hidden and ok. Be possessive, keep it close, in fear of it being ripped away. The child feels the ego, the ego feeds on the need. Breaking the habit will only reap new obsessions.
Organic, go back, stay in the womb, don't move towards the light. Bury me deep within the earth, the bugs will feed on the flesh and bring back the newness, the beauty, the light, the perfect skin, the youth....organic in all aspects.
When we moved my crayon was taken away, abruptly. Nothing made sense and no one could hear me. I felt alone and disrupted in life, a child without its grounding, its home. The smells changes, the scenery, the artistic creativity that surrounded me dissipated. My ability to comprehend this new person in my life who was not as loving, not as open to my voice was shocking in ways that made me crawl into a shell and never want to expose the real me. This new place, was dark and angry, it fed the places of the soul that should not be present in such a young persons life. Days that I cant really remember bring back haunting memories, nothing is in color, everything is black and white. The times that should have been showered with love, fantasy, and unicorns are nothing of the sort in this life. Fear of writing was beaten out of me, sometimes literally. I have a picture of a 7 year old girl with a pad and a pencil, she chose to mark the wall….he chose to make her never forget it. Give in to the life of the writer, the voices stayed back but still gave way to the creativity inside. What could be is still there. Age is just a number, years are just the illusion of time. If it is possible to go back, do it. Write it out and change the story, give the voice to the fetus, the 12 year old, the 40 year old. The pen in hand write big, on the walls, floors, wherever you feel you need to let it out. No one can take away what God gave, the devil himself will pull at it, squeezing it from you but it remains in tact….as clear as it can be, release it.
I stepped off the train in a hurry trying to beat the rush to the stairs, I had perfect tunnel vision, absolutely nothing was going to stand in my way. My long journey from Leeds was horrendous, I felt my legs ache with each step from standing and catching my balance on the four hour ride to London. Each stop I looked out the window, the cold air rushing in through the doors, the clouds hovering above, yet my spirits were anxious and excited. My cell phone was my only way of keeping contact with him, the wifi was inoperable and my international plan was hanging by a thread going in and out of service. Nervousness filled my stomach at the thought of him cancelling. My suitcase sat between my legs, the train was packed to the rim with people traveling into London for the weekend, all the girls were putting on their best faces, the closer we got the less clothing they wore. I couldn't imagine being half naked in this freezing country. I stood there with my wool pea coat, scarf and gloves, looking like someone from the US. Tanned skin, blonde hair, and very covered up. My boots were wet from sloshing through the rain as I ran for my train, thinking, "If I miss this train, I will hate myself." I sighed at the thought and grinned a bit at the irony of the whole situation. I could see we were getting closer to London, the trees were thinning and more light was coming in through the windows. Its the next stop, my heart beat so quickly with the thought. My phone buzzed with a message from him, "are you almost here??". Yes, I thought, I am, finally. I waited so long for this interaction, an entire year has gone by and we have not seen each others faces or heard each others voice. For some a year may seem very little time, but for me it felt like a literal eternity. I honestly never thought I would see him again, so this was absolute fate that brought me to this country, city, place, at the exact right time. My soul was in its last healing stage, he wanted to see me, I wanted to feel him next to me. My mind was jolted out of its happy place by the sound of the doors opening and the people pushing me through them whether I wanted to or not. So off I went, stepping out moving swiftly through the crowd. As I entered King's Cross station, the mass of people was indescribable. In any other instance I would have marveled at the beauty of this very historical place but I hurried through to get a taxi. I initially was going to take the underground, but the chances of me being late or stuck was too much for me to handle at the moment, so I opted for a 20 pound taxi to Paddington Station where my hotel was located. Everything went so quickly I find it hard to recall exactly how I got there but I checked in to the very luxurious hotel, scurried up to my room and as I did, my phone buzzed, "I am here in the bar.", he said. My chest was on fire....I took a quick look in the mirror, it was too late to fix the mess of hair on my head from my long journey, I spritzed myself with some Chanel, rubbed my cheeks, and applied some lip gloss. This will have to do. I ran out the door and headed to my destiny. The elevator ride felt forever, I watched as it hit each floor, checking my watch to see if time really did stand still. As I stepped from the elevator, I could feel the blood rushing to my neck. What would I say? Who am I now? Do I look like he remembers? A million questions came to mind, I couldn't and didn't want to answer all of them...I know if I did fear would wash over my entire being and I would be paralyzed. The bar was dark, his back was to me, he looked so handsome in his grey suit with his lavender button down shirt. I walked towards him, my smile big, just as he always said it was. I placed my hand on his shoulder, he turned to look at me...and I thought; yes, this is how it was meant to be.
I feel the warmth from above, coming through the clouds, my cheeks burn a bit from the strength of the sun. The cool breeze is a relief from the rays of delight yet sunny day, the waves crash upon the rocky shore. My eyes are closed, which lets me feel, hear, and sense my surroundings in a most intense way...the smells of the ocean, the feel of the wind in my hair and on my face. His hand brushes a strand of hair from my lip, which has gotten caught...I grin, making sure not to be too overly enthusiastic. Butterflies fill my stomach as I sense his stare, even with closed eyes I can feel the hazel of his gaze upon me. This is one of those moments when you want to stop time, create it from everything; a drawing, a photograph, a song. To live in this clip forever would be eternal bliss. I slightly open my eye to catch him staring away at the sea, he's in deep thought. He moves his hand over to mine, and lightly hooks one finger around my pinky. It's so simple, yet so completely endearing. I lay my head back and close my eyes, just to keep the moment one second longer.
She’s the dreamer, she has flowing blonde locks that brushes her bottom when she’s naked. She’s graceful, with a natural beauty that everyone is drawn to, she embraces life with a nonchalant air, always wanting to conquer the next destination. Her place is in the wild where she feels the earth around her, she writes sweet poems, and letters to all of her lovers. She loves them all, from every country, all the cities she’s traveled. Her photographs show what her eyes see, the exceptional beauty in all and everything that graces her presence. Her magical voice, the way her hands move as she walks with air under her feet, she is a glorious soul in this human world, she awaits the day that she floats away, the angel that she always has been.
My love with heartbreak has been in me since a child. I stood in the red VW van looking out the window, my breath foggy against the cold glass of the window, staring out as my father shoveled snow. It was warmer in here than it was in the house, I knew if I went out into the cold he would scold me..so there I stood a tiny tot all of 3 years old watching the man who would shape my view of all men. As I grew and he left long before the hugs were enough, my night in shining armor was rusty and cold. Nothing broke my heart more than wanting him to be what he was not, someone my mother loved, someone who I looked up to, someone who was responsible. The one thing he was; loving. His inability to show his love still came through in his creative side, he would paint for me...draw me pictures. My ballet shoes, my toys. Anything that put a smile on my face, he created it onto paper as though it was jumping out at me. We moved, my mother ripped the cord from my heart and tore him away from me. I knew not at the time how this would shape my perception of reality, of love, of what it is to be safe in loving someone with all my heart and not feel abandoned. I felt separated, unable to understand what I did to deserve such heartbreak. My continuation of this process, through grade school pig tail pulling, to high school nights sobbing in my pillow for the lover I lost to another. The cheater in me pushed everyone away in a self destructive way to save myself the inevitable pain of separation. Giving was foreign to me, I deserved to be treasured and I searched for that person incessantly like a moth fighting for its life to get to a flame. The fast forward through 30 years of discontent, the wondering why it never worked. Who is the unlovable? Why was it always the wrong man? To love ones self is to cease the search for outer love. My angel meant to whisper this to me at age 3.
In a grasping gesture to find some happiness, I have swept away the past like small dust balls under my bed, I gave them a home in the not wanted area of my subconscious. The happiness and love I long for as a small child will become mine once I truly hold myself in the love I have looked for my entire life. I am willing to give myself the time that I always gave another, buy flowers, take trips, go to the movies, write a poem, sing a love song. Everything I gave and wanted to give to the love of my life, has never left me...she's been right here the entire time. For a year I was curled up in a ball on my couch, tears in a puddle on my shoulder from the intense fear of never being loved, of always being alone, of never having the lasting hug from my father that I always wanted so badly. To hear the words, I love you with all of my heart, from the man I needed so much. I numbed myself with the fact that I have no idea what that four letter words is or how I could show it to another human being. My sense of who I am disappeared with every sob, realizing I no longer wanted to be in this reality. If someone could take me away I would have agreed in a second, the devil himself could have had my soul for nothing and I would not have cared. Then suddenly something in me shifted, who I was "dying" for was myself, not anyone outside of me. I was longing for the person inside, hidden deep within behind the body, face, humor. I found my love, she is beautiful on the inside more than anyone I have ever met. She never leaves me lonely, and I can trust her to always listen when I need someone to hear...the pain, the joy, all of it. The humanness of me. She's my angel.
Commitment phobe, deliberate enemy of myself, tormented alchemist, shining example of belligerent mediocrity. One moment is absolute bliss, the next an excruciating existence to be lived out every millisecond of every delusional day. Retriever of information unused and unwanted; ridiculed for being elated at darkness, wanderer of the human mind. Willingness to become the light, the being of transcendence among fallen angels. Following my fingertips to the promise land.
You missed the boat, the broken oar, the hole in the side...it drifted past while you were day dreaming. Your eyes were fixed on the crystal clear water, the sea grass swaying back and forth beckoning you to dive in and join. The unexpected awaits, the future was obvious...the temptation too much to resist. Leaping high, you sprung into the air arms wide plunging into the salty sea to explore everything that was shown through the teal lapping of the sea. Grace and joy have brought you to this place to retrieve the ultimate exuberant elation that has been yours since birth. Grab hold of it and never let go for you have earned the sweet taste of this victory, alone, solitude looks good on you, embrace it while you can and give yourself the gift of thought provoking prophecy that you have been hiding away for fear of the dark.
Views are not only mine, but all who come into my life. I share those I admire, and discard those I do not.