The Prisma Marker

I can't help but to cry.

You say you wore your brush tips out making squiggly lines.
Gray tones and all the colors,
but we are still waiting for the full rainbow glow to be available for us.
---
It wasn't so simple.
I cried in the art store.
I didn't even want him shopping with me,
I knew he would judge.

And I saw the pink prisma marker, I said, "I would really love that!"
But he never bought me gifts.

I said, "I would like this notebook too."
He said, "You don't need it"
then he got angry, like he so often did.

I eventually got that notebook and Pink Prisma Marker, but you didn't want to buy them for me.

You just didn't want me to cry.
It was the first 'gift' you bought me, and it was given from the lowest place.

Whenever I use that Pink Prisma Marker, I can't help but do a quick shake. It reminds me of you, and how you didn't like art. It reminds me of your lack of generosity, and the way you never understood my passion.
---
So when I talk with you about colors and playing in the prisma box, you light up.
You say, "I'll bring mine to share," and we delight in the stories of drawings, colors, shapes and lines.

And I cry,
Since this is new, and we have so much in common.

Bondage

We sit at the table,
each one of us a child, holding on to our archetypes from years ago.

Are you simple?
Are you wise?
Are you evil?
Are your words so stuck within that you have nothing to say but a soft coo?

At least we showed up.
There is another, circling the table, who knows there is a seat for them, but they are too full of pride to even share in the conversation.

And then there is one more, the wonder-filled child.
She is outside playing in the fire.
Her hair curls as she holds out her wine cup to spirit,
she thinks, 'this time, he will surely arrive',
but the screen door slammed shut,
and nobody else wanted to relish in the midnight blue clouds.

Her tambourine sends delight down her spine, and her hips start to shake.
She knows he is coming, the wind shifts and blows upwards,
miracles are here, and she smiles wide in her knowing. 

Which child are you tonight?

Unfurl the fiddlehead,
peel your blood orange.

klipah. klipah. klipah and all that junk.

We are the ones who tied ourselves up in bondage, it is only fitting to be the one to release it.
But our mouths are gagged, our hands limp and useless.

We call out from the inner depths.

There is an expansiveness that awaits -
what can man possibly do unto me?

So I wrote a tune, and sweetly caressed the wounds within.
Playing in the juxtaposition of space and time,
the spiral of everything.

Last year I cried deep loud moans in Death Valley,
I wanted you to hold my hand, to lean my tired body on your warm shell.

Instead, I fell over rock, you screamed at me, and the whole village awoke.

Here, I break free.

Where I enslave, I also open pathways.

"How is this moment unique and divine?
Sacred space and sacred time."

Chains get rusty and crack,
but this time, I hold the key.

The list

"put it on the list," we say and when we say that, we mean,
"let's prolong this courtship, I want to hold on to what is here and now."

It's growing, and it's growing fast, and we have much to accomplish before the sun sets.

We went to 3 different parks and I kissed you in all of them.

This is different, and it's slow.

Motions of what is to come, but here and now it's solid and steady and we laugh at how we got here.

Lots of talk, and you remind me of someone I used to love.

It's simple really.

So I try to balance a big blue ball on my feet and then I add the purple one, and they all come tumbling down but I'm just playing here so nothing can hurt me.

I said a long time ago, "I'm afraid I'm going to hurt you," and then I did, and badly.
But more so, I hurt myself. I didn't know.

So this time, it's steadying the tightrope and learning how to balance alone as I walk this narrow bridge.

We shall not be afraid, no we mustn't be afraid.

Another you told me you still have a residual crush on me and I keep getting texted by another who I clearly stated I was not into.

I don't get it at all and life is too damn funny.

But here I am, and sharing the laughs with you, and that's all I can say for now.

We make lists, and hope we get to cross some items off before we fade into each others' backgrounds.

Maybe the tree house in South America will have to wait, or maybe we will get there and live a long prosperous life, we just don't know, but the list might help us get there...

and this is the thought for the moment,

at least we will never die of boredom.
no, we got that one solved,
and smiley faces in hot soup are so damn good.
You smile and me too, and I just want to cuddle.

Buried Treasure

It's like hunting for buried treasure without the map.
We suppose we've found gold, but ramen noodles have kept many a man alive in deep suffering.

You hold my waist gently, I can feel the nerves and fear in your fingertips.
It's ironic that we met when we did, and I am thankful for the timing.

So a letter shows up at my door - and I start to shake.
Tears falling from my eyes so fast and I don't ever want connection with that fire again.

A thought popped in my head to tell you,
and then I think, no, I don't ever want to bring you into that internal mess -
it's PTSD for the moment, therapist confirmed, I say, I went to a Dr. yes, and I am so very healthy.

Truth and all the truths, it's just I don't need to share what isn't yours, and this time, I'm owning my mistakes, dealing with them, and moving on, with someone, and maybe you.

We talk of Pergatory, you've been before,
and so we adventure into the spaces between. I dreamed last night that you had two names and were using them as such, that second part of you so aligned with mine.
And then, I dreamed you were seeing someone else, it was casual, and so is this, but she was dumb, and blond, and we decided you were not who we thought you were.

My heart is so afraid to trust, so it makes up stories,
and maybe some are true,
we never know,
since when we ask, sometimes all that spills out are lies,

Yet you say you cannot lie.
I like the way this sounds.

And you met my family - It wasn't supposed to happen this way, but you didn't want to leave and our eyes kept gazing over meeting at the same times.

I suppose that's all it is really, eyes meeting and locking for a moment or eternity.
We can pretend it's something more, but fly up a few hundred feet in elevation and we realize, it's a blip of time, so surrender and be in constant gratitude for the one who brings us to this day, moving through the internal stuck places and flowing freely into the expansion.

And this is the day.
Sunny and ready to be awakened. 

Burning Flesh

This time I'm going to blame it on you,
and yet,
I think it in truth,
it was me.

It's been reminded that if I don't watch out, I might get burned.

So my skin peeled right off, because I like attention.

slow down,
this is the meaning.

The web of connections has grown, and some got lost along the way,
it's the way it works you know, and i've always read that twenty more will come,
but this time, I want to focus on one.

It is the bubbling of a newness, and newness is always better than stale bread, and things get stale around here and fast.

slow down.

In the rush and the jumping head first into crashing waves there is excitement and then the terrible slow drowning feeling and that's never quite the intention.

no, not here.

mysterious.

something that has never been so easy.

It goes like this:
"you are fun"
"you are different"
"I find you alluring"

yes, yes, I know.

and then,

we are planning adventures and activities and you talk about fashion, and I almost cry.
Everyone has that special something, and I can't help how my body wants to crash into you -

but last one went way too manic and I'm not sure what to make of it.

They say dogs emulate their owners,
and calm is perhaps a whole lot better than I thought.

What I mean to ask is,
how in this place do I stay above water?

Acai in bowls and 800 thread count T.shirts, there is an opening and my burning flesh is scabbing, the itching a grave reminder to trust body and say truths, always.

You say you cannot lie,
so let's
just
see.

Flowers in the attic

Flowers in the attic and other nostalgic finds.
Cleansing the liver never did much for me but the lemon water is always enticing and brown rice is better now when I think about it than before.

Hungry for this newness.
Awakened and allowing for the re-arrangement in mind.

So body took over since literal space is mental space and clearing began.
My altar now holds pyrite and I saged the shit out of my room.

Goodbye staleness.

I ripped up paper and made it look good, gold marker reminding me that I'm an adult and don't forget sexy!

He said that word popped into his head when I told him my vision.
Bringing back the sexy into the routine.

And I agreed so we hugged.

It always goes this way.

My energy was focused on me today not the other and it felt better than any candy digestion.
I stood vertical for the first time in many months maybe years, as the water poured down.
Standing my ground, I can do this.

My priestess sister calls.
We are loved beyond belief.

To do lists are full and plenty and ready for tomorrow to begin and yet tonight it all feels so easy.

"Let the beauty we love be what we do"

"What a wonderful world!"

And it is. So you texted me from the airport just to amuse this knowing,
and I didn't ingest any holly today since it's all about my growth and worry depletes and dilutes worse than any other substance I know. 

Separation

" Do you know that you are an adult? Do you know this?"

I stare at him.

My heart knows the answer but it's too hard to admit.

Shh, I think, I don't need to speak it outloud.
If I did, but it would mean things needed to shift and moving pieces are terribly hard to coordinate.

But I know it's time.

"Yes, I'm an adult."

So when we say thank you for distinguishing holy and profanity, we really mean thank you for the role I played for the past 24 years, now, the script has changed and characters moving.

The candle flickered in the hazy circle. Light droplets of rain but fire is strong.

We talk about that nasty fire that you threw at me and then I laugh in the tears since
It's so far removed and I never believed I could feel whole again.

I'm looking up at the sky since ripples come from all angles and everywhere is water.

He is right. I am not a child anymore.
Shifting this paradigm and then it becomes so clear.

Holy shit! It's so easy.

Wide eyed and trying not to feel that tinge of pain within.

One goal. Just one goal to achieve.

Home.
Place.
Belonging.
Apartment.
Phew.

6 months.
Own it.
Love it.
Be it.
Say it.
Share it.

And this is the work.
Mind is blown.

And I'm still me but stronger than before.

Stolen Cars

The wind whips against us,
so we try to root deeper into the rocks.

I fall backwards,
you fall forwards.

Waves and motions rolling towards us as you try to collect stardust,
but I'm already covered in glowing embers from somebody else's planet.

Words race out of our lips, too many laughs, perhaps to cover the strangeness.

You are covered in barbeque sauce, and you draw pictograms on styrofoam.

I go for the extreme but you are still intrigued, maybe I should have gone for the normal?

Our eyes are peeled on the parking lot, each lit light alivens a gaze, and if they stole our cars we would just go ahead and steal their truck, but then we are in this together, so maybe, not tonight.

It's really a hard one to know, so we will engage again and see if the film clears from the plastic,
and if not,
well,
there are so many more of you.

And later,
wildly raw conversations with another who I will never meet, and we said, "we are doing this again, that thing, you know, where we go there without knowing the chemistry."
But you live across the pond and it feels too good.

And at the same time,
wonderfully surprising texts and newness from another, and we will meet and soon. The charade has been playing for quite some time, and it's time, it is so time. Short shorts and all the kites, there is a pull, and I need to follow this string to source.

And at the same time,
my body is pulled to another, who is sleeping in a car with a girl on a highway. He is driving westward, and the thoughts are strong and deep. So we say, "Let's let it be what it is, and I like you a lot, and we jumped in real fast, let's slow it down for both of us." So we allow, and engage this, since the fire we created is so strong and trust is filled with nervous tension so I breathe out and let it be what it is since I can only trust my heart, and heart says, "it's a new feeling, see it through."

And at the same time,
empty and full. I cried my eyes out when I admitted the violence I inflict on myself. I do not give myself what I need. So I reach outwards grasping at moments and fleeting connections, since inside, well, it is hurting. The gummy bears are feeling more like jello and they've lost their strong muscular tone, and actually, I wonder if it's time for them to retire, since my thorn-filled crown doesn't match and I don't even wear that one well.

and,
fuck.

This was the night, and all the factions.