all the little pieces

there are things that get left behind
little bits of those we once loved
and at first
at times
they sting
the reminders of
something that was
that is no longer a something

but in time
as we grow
it becomes just
pieces of us
taped up and
patched up
and sewn up

and there are the bits of those
who stuck beside
offered up words
and hope
and light
and fights
and pain
and laughter
and reconciliation

all the little pieces that come from
all the ones no longer here
all the ones still here
ourselves

all the little pieces

all the little pieces that make us
singular

we are plural
in our cores
no one of us exists
solely
alone

we are plural
in our singular selves

in all our little pieces

armour

when you look in the mirror
do you see armour
dented
and rusted
and worn?

and do you wonder
how
those white knights
on valiant horses
keep their armour
so clean?

but truthfully
I prefer the rust
and the dents

because I know then
that you’ve been tested
and won

you earned your armour
earned every dent
the shine has gone
but the Honor
remains
and grows

white knights are the foolish dream
of children
little girls who
know no better

I stand before you
woman
and tell you that
You
are the reward of patience

your armour,
my Knight,
had been tested
by battle
by doubt
and heartache
and tribulation

and you have
overcome

so take my hand
no fairytale princess I,
and let us go from here
knowing that the folly of children
is unfilfilling

and the rewards
of patience
of heartache
of growth
and birth
and life

have come to
Us,
at last.


2/4/2014

maybe

when things tumble

into place

sudden and shocking

and knock you off your feet

and your heart skips beats

because you believe

you want to believe

but it's hard to let go and fly

standing on the edge

tips of shoes 

poke over the edge

you peek behind

but that final step 

is just too much

so take my hand

and spread your wings

make me believe

Wings

I love you so much
sometimes
that my heart fills up with it
and it spills over into the rest of my
body
out into my limbs and my organs
and it keeps me warm in the cold

I love you full and round and hopeful

I love your smile and the taste of it on my lips
I love your arms and the weight of them
enfolding me
sustaining me
supporting me

I love your eyes and the light behind them
when you laugh
the tears that shine in their edges
when your heart aches
I love the blue of them
like the sky, like the sea, like the rain
so deep and powerful and overwhelming
that I drown in them
when you look at me

I love your heart and the weight of it in your chest
the thud thud thump of it against
my heart
in the dark
in the night
in the bright light of day
I love the stories it holds
and the pains
and the truths
and the strengths

I love you so much sometimes that it gives me wings
and my feet aren't on the ground
and the only thing I can hear is this:
the sound of your heart
of my heart

of us.

Fog

tomorrow seems like a far away promise
something that doesnt quite touch the edges of today
shimmering away
and you sit on the bench looking out
at that far away shimmer on
the edges of your reality

you cry inside,
slithering wet tears
that are colored grey
and green
and blue
and red

you hold up your head and
wonder why
you try

but sometimes its like the
lights go out
and the dark comes in
and it presses its cold hands
against your skin
it touches your heart with
heat

and how do you fight that?

rise

A step forwards is a step back

A track that my feet have worked into the grass

Head down

Eyes closed

Mouth press shut tight

I hold it all inside and scream

Silent at the stars in the sky

lines of red trace

seams in my skin

dripping life onto my shoes

as I dripp salt water onto my lips

whatever choice I make

is a choice that causes pain

I can not close my eyes any longer

I can not hold my breath

I must lift my head out of the water of

Dogma

And fight my own fight

My own battle

Earn my scars

I am a phoenix

Burning

Bridges

And crying tears of healing pain

Trying to remain the same

Can no longer be

The game

I play

I must

Emerge

On my own two feet

Believe

What I must believe.

What I must.

and we talk about nothing to fill the void
and the void consumes us all.

and i deserve so much better than this.

spaces

empty places in my mind
fill up with memories
unsung
unsaid
unheard
denied

a room for waiting
full of
the noise of people
trying to deny their pain
distract from the agony of waiting
waiting
waiting

hope is a thing that flutters
dying within your palm
even as you struggle
to revive it
whisper words of passion
life
desperation
in it's feathery ears

Hope is a thing that flutters
vaporous
through our fingers when we need it most
leaving ghost
kisses on our fingertips
and soaring away into the night

hope is green and white
golden in the light of dawn as it
tumbles back into our hearts
promising peace
soon
peace
soon
forever

Moth

Candle burning in darkness
thinking it's alone
it's light reveals nothing but more darkness
pushes out on the unknown
and i
Moth
flutter by
spread my wings and shimmer

but the candle
it just burns me
and keeps
on
shining.

Incendiary

coming home in the darkness
to your face in the mirror
the imperfections blatant
under wide dilated eyes

standing naked in the moonlight
over analyzing your own flaws
contemplating
the way you pour over your bones
like liquid
the burning words
that mean nothing when spoken out loud

slide

i look at the dial between my feet
and see the numbers winding down
take another sip of water
paste smile over frown

i close my eyes and push away your face
try to forget your very name
but every day i come back to this place
everyday it is the same

I am haunted by what might have been
the promise that i saw
and by the gash you tore when you went away
just as my heart began to thaw

i bleed out words of black and white
onto pages flecked with red
knowing you will never see them
but spewing them out in horror
anyways

Unfulfilled
and empty
i cry silent
dry tears
I hide my fears behind my palms
and
pretend.

absinthe

your words haunt me
like a dangerous habit
breaking the skin and leaking out of my veins
i bite my tongue and repress
my thoughts
so i dont drive you away
but i
am caught between breaths
trying to get back to the girl i was with you
and i don't know what to do
i dont know what to do

my mind

begs me to give in, but i tell it quietly no.
my heart cant take another ride like that.
my heart cant take being let go.

Idiot Child

you left me here to
wonder at the marks you left
on my skin

my heart
my spirit

I sit here
and watch the scale
scale
down

and feel
gratified
each pound that slips away

i try
not to wonder
where you are
what you are thinking
the words you are saying in hopes
that
someone can hear them


i heard them.

blood

I bleed the music in my soul into the air and let it writhe in victorious jubilation. I live though my fear and deny it a foot hold in my heart. I open my eyes to the dawn and let in the light and accept myself for myself. I AM. I live and breathe and dance half-naked in my bedroom to the pumping sound of rock and roll and i laugh at the beauty that life can bring with a wash of clarifying pain.


I survive.

I rise from my ashes stronger and more beautiful than I ever was before.

jupiter wylde

Work was going by so slowly, with the bleach blonde demi-goddess cheerleaders coming in and begging for the latest in denim and cotton and silk. Their colored contacted eyes seem to beg "make me beautiful, make me wanted." They left with armfuls of jewel toned blouses and denim that would cling to their legs in lines of blue, shades of blue. Sky blue, Sea blue. The color of the night sky just after the sun sets and your eyes are adjusting to the light pollution.

Jupiter just stood in the dressing room, smiling at the young ones, and nodding to the older ones, not focused, giving them all what they wanted to hear, to see.

"Yes, that top does look good on you, it fits very well." 

"Yes that color does bring out your eyes." 

"I'd go with the black one, it's more versatile, see if you wear it with one of these head scarves and a pair of these skinny jeans it's a very trendy casual look, or you could pair it with these slacks and one or two of these necklaces....yeah, I'll take them up to the register for you."

When she leaves it's dark, and the wind pulls at her face, warm and summery. She thinks of just getting into her car and skipping the party, just driving, anywhere. She stops for a moment, contemplating the ocean, then she shakes her head. She's promised to be at the party. 

She makes her way across the dark parking lot towards the supermarket, to buy the Jack Daniels and the cookies she promised to bring. She regrets it momentarily, this choice to conform instead of take herself to the sea and fall into the sand. Then she shakes her head and mumbles to herself, walking into the cold night lit store.

The bottle of Jack Daniel's fits into her hand, cool and promising oblivion, soon, soon. She smiles at the woman at the check out, who is elderly, silver haired. The woman scrutinizes her, demands to see her I.D. in a sharp voice, suspicious. She sells her the bottle, and then her money is gone, she's broke again, but she has the deep amber liquid and it's all she cares about for the moment.
Her phone unfolds in her hand, she presses the buttons, almost idly, she's lying to herself, and she knows it when she feels the hint of anticipation when it buzzes in her palm a few moments later.
Jupiter slides back into her car and rolls down all the windows. She drives fast, she closes her eyes. With the windows down and the wind in her face she can almost imagine herself away from here.
She arrives at the party and her friends converge with laughter and hugs and questions, she answers with a smile and a laugh in her voice.

“Jupiter!” They call her name, and she steps among them, to feel accepted.

The cookies are proffered and accepted and eaten, while she laughs and hugs the people she knows and introduces herself to those she doesn't. There is already that tangible vibration through the house, the alcohol and the pot she smells on her friend's jacket. She takes her cup into the kitchen and mixes a drink, strong. She sees a friend, a face, a half smile before she kisses his cheek and thanks him for the invite.

Her phone keeps buzzing, and her body keeps buzzing. Her drink is almost gone when she pours the rest of the Jack in it, another shot and a half. Someone hands her the cola bottle, says she should probably add some more Coke to the drink, she smiles and does so, and tilts the drink back. It's gone. Someone mixes another, orange juice and vodka, half a glass, he looks at her with a half raised eyebrow, and she shrugs, grins. She's already more than half gone, and then she is gone and she is floating around the party listening to the conversations between people she knows and doesn't know.

On the patio she watches the friends of friends inhale slow and exhale slow, and she smells the sweet smoke but rejects it when it comes to her. She takes an offered cigarette and smokes it, slow, barely inhaling, watching the starless sky and wondering how long it would take to get to Joshua Tree.

She types words into her phone, says what she is thinking, doesn't care, cares too much.

The phone is dying, starting to buzz plaintively instead of promisingly, and she takes it out to her car, leaves the empty drink cup. She stares out the window and feels the liquor in her veins, the smooth soft light and the side to side of her head as the world slides around and she smiles at the missing stars.

When he appears on the horizon, comes and stands by her open window, sober and worried, she smiles at him, best friend and pseudo brother. He leans against the car hood. He shakes his head at her when she holds up the phone, the reason for being in the car alone, something far more captivating than an open bottle of liquor. He disapproves, unsure of her choices, but is ready to decline with her this night. She sees it in his eyes that he wants to fall too, wants to walk through the door of the party full of people he doesn't know and taste something bitter and kiss someone beautiful. She doesn't let him, because if he starts to fade into this nether world with her, there will be no one left to pull them back out. 

She is selfish, she wants to drown alone.

She speaks, words of religion, the lack of religion. She tells him she isn't who he thinks she is, and watches the worry on his face fan out, fingers of doubt around him. “Do I believe in God because I believe in God or because it's all i've ever been taught? My father believes in God because he loves God.....do i only believe in God because i love my father?”

He shakes his head as she winds down, talking about masks and personae and not wanting to have to care what people think. She hears her voice quiver when she says something about her father, and she closes her eyes and rests her head against the door frame. A few moments later, she hears his voice, 

“i'm leaving. I'll see you later.” 

He is walking away, not looking back, leaving her drunk and verbose, and alone. He is running from the person she is becoming, afraid to look into her eyes and see that it is who she has always been. She thinks she says she loves him, but is unsure what is spoken and what is thought.

It's cold in the car now, and it's dark and she's suddenly too alone. It's 2 AM, the hour of subtly wounding loneliness, an hour that haunts and suppresses, and all at once, despite the warmth of the liquor that is her buoy, she feels the cold of the night through the open window and when the phone buzzes in her hand and she tells it softly, “I just need to be held.”

And then he's on his way and she's smiling, that quickly, that easy shift in this mentality of...she doesn't even know.

But he's there suddenly, the dark and the light all blended together as she watches him, cautious, not cautious. She wants him in her arms so she takes him in her arms and she is warm. He is a pseudo rock god, crescendo in a quiet room, a dangerous animal cornered in a cage that is much to small.

She is falling into him and ignoring the rest of the world, wanting only to forget for a few fleeting moments the weight of that world, the weight of expectations. The party has already faded, people leaving in pairs and groups and alone. She doesn't care, hardly notices.

She doesn't believe his eyes, but has no doubts as his lips meet hers, in the quiet, in the silence, in the cold. 

She's a mess, physical, emotional. 

She sinks into his hands and mouth and arms and body and closes her eyes and doesn't deny him anything but the one thing she can give to no one. 

She doesn't love him, the thought doesn't even cross her mind to give in. 

She lets him in, but not enough to consume, only enough to burn. She lets his fingers burn holes in her skin, test her limits, but doesn't succumb. She smiles into his smile. It feels natural, this, the lack of hesitation, the warmth, the laughter that keeps bubbling out of her unexpectedly. She is content to be used, content to be a comfort, whatever comfort she can offer, she gives. She hesitates, inexperienced, sudden uncertainty fogging her motions until he takes her, gentle, guiding.

It's daylight when she breaks the surface, takes a breath. His voice murmurs in her ear, telling her to go home, the very last place to she wants to be. She stalls, she evades, and then finally listens. She stands and brushes her hands over her body, erasing the evidence of this exploitation, this exploration. 

When he asks to see her again, she doesn't bother to suppress the reaction, the characteristic roll of her eyes, the disbelief, and the annoyance at herself for wanting to believe this hint of promise. 

He responds, wounded voice, and she wants too desperately to believe. She tries to console, to bend the break, but she knows it's too late.

She breaks a rule and says more than she means to say, then blames it on the alcohol, despite the fact that the traces of it left have little effect now. 

She has mastered the art of lying to herself.

She watches him walk away, not looking back. She climbs into her car, still cold, still empty. She sits quietly for a few minutes, pretending to let the engine heat, closing her eyes and marking each image, each snapshot. 

She files the night away in her mind, under “Transitions.” 

She smiles.

She drives home.

Words

If i say it three times, will that make it real?
I won't miss you
I can't miss you
I don't
miss you

It's an idea i miss
the taste of the promise of summer
so suddenly torn from my grasp

and now
this is all i have left
a few words on a page
a few tears i refuse to cry
the sound of your voice fading into memory
fading out

It's not as though it was perfect
or
sparkling clear and
halcyon

but
the promises you made with your eyes
the lies i fell for because you believed them

I wish i had never tasted the promise of summer
had never stumbled into your arms and found everything i was looking for

and then realized it was all a hoax
and lie
a facade that you wear
to protect your fragile heart
to deny that your heart is fragile
and to
shield others from

seeing how much you hate
yourself

tomorrow dawns and i
go
i do
i achieve
and i try to forget that
i let myself love you
and never said a single word

Teeth

my teeth are
sharp
i grind them against the
whetstone of subtlety
wit
and when i bite you
you
you bleed pride
and arrogance
and i savor the copper sweet taste of
your anger
in exchange
a balm for my anger:
revenge.

Goodbye, sweet little one.

Today, I had to put my cat to sleep.
He was diagnosed with kidney disease last year, and has been slowly deteriorating since then.
 My mother and I cared for him this last year, giving him subcutaneous fluids and medication, but in the last three days he became severely lethargic and lost his appetite. He couldn't walk, his back legs were very weak, and we were having to carry him to his litter box and spoon feed him.
Today, my mother and I decided it was time to take him and end his suffering, with the thought that any more time we kept him with us would be prolonging his pain only for our sake.
So we took him to the vet and they put him to sleep while we stood there petting and talking to him, letting him know how  much we love him and how much we'll miss him.

I can't stop crying. He was 19, and i have had him since i was 5. I loved him the best of all my animals, he was the best cat you could ask for. Sweet, loving, cuddly.
The house seems emptier without him, colder and lonelier.
My heart is breaking and breaking and breaking and i can't make it stop.