and the shards in history remember the age. there's mud on the ground and glass. she was run down. hid from the dreams she held. hard to keep inside. what is she looking for? see her body and you believe the blues. her photograph. now submerged in winter's totem of ice which constantly is melting into gray mirrors that you so avidly avoid looking at directly. "why?," you whisper. one eyebrow slightly contracts as you swallow and fold your arms against your body. it's been years. she's been gone. you're always empty.

i know i've already posted today, but i cannot get over the view that is just outside my door. i get to see this glorious landscape even when just walking home from the grocery store. texas, i just don't think i could ever miss you (except for your mexican food).  soul is so fulfilled and swept perpetually.

thoroughly freaked out. stephanie & i both had one gift that was not going to make it by xmas, even though we both ordered them near the beginning of december. since today marks the eve and we both knew we wouldn't have said gift yet we decided to open an image of what the gift was on our computers and then close them/trade for each other to open at the same time. and to put it modestly - both our faces dropped entirely at the precise same moment. as you will see in the image below:

for her, from me: a gray hoodie with the dr. who tardis printed on it in the center.
for me, from her: a gray hoodie with a moon umbrella printed on it in the center.

and to make it not any less eerie at all - we both have very similarly sized presents under the tree for tomorrow. this shall be interesting.

  

can't dream because my skull is tingling like your foot does when it's asleep. so instead i'm flipping through old photographs. mind looping. creating its own reveries by piecing together all the rectangular 4x6 relics in my hard-drive like broken bones which i quiveringly unearth as some archeologist of memory. i don't know if this is any easier than just fighting my eyelids.

i keep saying it, and i keep falling through. but i must start writing again. mostly to keep my memories close in this time of vast transition. this morning we saw the first snow of the season. it was so delicate and seemed to float in a gravity defying paradox. i just kept staring into it, waiting for it to swoop me up and swallow me whole. i was so rapt that my fingers froze through and i could hardly move my bones, but i managed just enough shaky strength to form my very first compact ball of the fluff in my life, then proceed to throw it at my darling. and we both laughed when it hit, but then i felt immediately awful because in my inexperience from existing most of my life in texas i was unaware of how painful a seemingly innocent snowball could be. but now i know and am anxiously awaiting the next snowfall. this time i will follow it's lead, be more gentle. make an angle or something.

"bonsai, bonsai, it's better to write than die." - patti.

her love is the blanket so beautifully molded beneath my skin that i cannot help but wake with its imprints upon my body.

fallen teeth floating in a glass of wine. tiny & glistening. a myth, but figuring it out.

because the past is seeping when the mortar fills itself, i remember. and that is elixirs of sorrow, euphoria, & a rattle to the bones' unease. but for once, never must be cracking - and that is when i'm loosing my secrets. and in a heart-wrenching visual spellbind of rewound footage, i play it over and over instead of counting sheep.

you, asleep next to me on a cheap motel bed. there is a constant humming coming from the bathroom light one of us forgot to turn off on the left of the room & on the right, the gaudy blue curtains are parted ever so slightly near the bottom, spilling a glow of morning light on your sweet sleep deprived forehead from falling finally to dreams at 4am because you were watching "chopped" all night on the outdated tv while the cat ran over our bellies and mewed for attention. these past few days have all been restless, but beyond enchanting. we made it. the air is cool in september here. the people are deeper. in texas we would've had to wait until february, and all the encountered existences would still be flat. i feel home. but all my sweaters are packed away in a pod awaiting to be shipped to our first true place together. i'm homeless, and jobless, but the most fortunate soul to have found you. and soon all will fall into place. but for now i still find harmony just how we are. everything is magic. goodmorning lovebird, xo.

i had once
(in a dream)
met a woman
who taught me
to never draw
lines, only shadows--
it made so
much sense. started
filling in. suddenly,
we erased. faded
into this great
gray dissolve which 
she now is
and i am
and we all
and this whole
vast impenetrable denseness
of what we
think we feel
are all only
something i had
once met--(now
but a shadow)

how unexpected and divine to each day witness my body an iridescent glowing orb. within me thrives a shrine constructed through vines of twisted veins & delicate pulsing that protect the long sought after answer no one ever finds. such a sacred embrace to know she is my truth. she has illuminated that sweet, sweet darkness. that relentless mystery everyone always feels yet never knows and i now hold when each day waking beside my angel.

surely sure. no such truth. touch the honey moon hanging low low tonight. sweep me up. sweep me slow. submerge the lungs until the vessels wither. faintly faint. sweet surrender.

you inside my arms. sync. baby blue hazy morning. still lazy eyelids struggling to see. but feel. feel you. beside me. my most cherished sensation. my most beloved sweetsoul. we're so close now. so serene. and i write this not in remembrance or a hurdle leaped, just simply. simply. you beside me.

i'm anxious. ravenously anxious. being here is destroying me beyond expression. my soul is yearning so desperately for this. smothering each day that passes from my calendar with the deepest hue of red X's. it's drawing so near now, yet this last stretch seems but a reach only eternity's fingers can clasp. caring about my current obligations while still here is proving excruciatingly trying. especially when i look to the heavenly forecast my future holds (which i mean both metaphorically as well as literally speaking--see screenshot below)...need it now. need out. everything is about to morph most madly. the threads of my cocoon are unwinding and weaving with the most wonderful specimen my existence has ever witnessed. wound together, yet feeling freer than ever. i cannot even begin to touch how glorious. i'm trying my darnedest to stay attune to the present and my surroundings, but i'm helplessly afloat. my ties to this land have never proven strong, and are now weak as ever. i've mentally drifted since i was a girl. wild that that drift is now in such proximity to reality.

lay me down. the sunset is beautiful crimson blood seeping slowly down my blinds and onto my body. my waning eyelids are shutting. shutting out. lay me down. i am exhausted of this land. this mundane routine. so tired. so i fall down with the crimson blood bathing me until all fades to black. and i may part for a few gracious hours. until again the crimson blood comes to awaken me. and i bite my lip, part my eyes, then continue. but two more months. two more months and her & i will be commencing a rejuvenating journey. visions consuming me. i am anxious and beyond ready.

i loath the days when i don't want to touch existence, but must. all i wish to do right now is sit and shed this old skin smothering me. i need silence. i need solitude. i don't even want to hear my own breathing. though i cannot cease anything, and have a full day of work and interaction with entities entering through the ringing doors which tirelessly disgust me. i loath the waking. i loath well near everything currently. i need to part this place already. enter a new body. a new land. my patience is waning, as is my spirit. i need the altered scenery and fresh mindset. here there is too much reminiscing stinging. reminders everywhere. ghosts everywhere.

lousy lousy lousy. salty drops slipping in a stream of memory and fear down my skin. don't let it hit me. my flesh itches beneath the faulty glistening trails. this is the part that gets me. this is the part that haunts me. this is the part where i can't fall to dream because my mind is too grimy and frail. this is the part where i don't know what to do. so i let my fingers loose to the beating of my blood and hope my bones grow weary and shut my body into forced slumber. i'm   s i n k i n g.   so strangled. so weak. so me. i'd look to the moon, but she's a scar i've cut open far too much to heal. i wish my mamaw's soul were still in a body i could crawl to. it's been near seven years, yet i yearn ever ceaselessly & refuse to remove the black pearl caressing my finger. butterfly and eskimo kisses. FEAR DOWN MY SKIN. this is the part where i don't know what to do.

omnia mutantur, nihil interit.


sitting alone in a coffee shop. lady day serenading the room. and it scares me how much i love you.

"when the [heart's] impulses move us, none of us can stop their sudden promptings from easily breaking out, and even more easily overflowing into words which are the ever-ready indications of the heart's emotions: as it is written, 'a man's words are spoken from the overflowing of the heart.' i will therefore hold my hand from writing words which i cannot restrain my tongue from speaking; would that a grieving heart would be as ready to obey as a writer's hand!"