Bast

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The box where I put us spilled open

the cat knocked it off the shelf

mischievous beast, meddlesome Bast

I think she’s tired of her protective ways

longing for ancient days of war-torn destruction

she seeks to make a battleground of my heart, for revenge

Yesterday, Bast asked me to pray to her

for protection, she said.

Politely, I declined

Now I glance up to find her watching me

she sits on the shelf where I’d hidden us away

casually licking her paws, feigning nonchalance

but I see her eyes gleam

they laugh as she watches my fingers

scramble to collect piece after piece of us

shattered and whole, they slip through cracks

in floorboards before I can retrieve them

forever lost to dust & fate

& the Will of the Gods

I cut my finger on your face,

it starts to bleed & I look up

Bast stops licking her paw

she’s still staring, and I can hear her eyes whisper

‘Now will you pray?’

Heartbeat

Late at night,

When darkness drifts around me,

my mind wanders and

I wonder what you think,

When you think of me

Does your heart pound, nervously,

in your chest?

When we’re falling asleep

I put my hand on your heart, or

My head on your neck, just

To feel your pulse, just

To see if it’s racing

In time with my own

Sometimes it is

and it is in those moments that

I’ll pull you into me

Around me

Covering myself with your chest

your thighs,

your sex,

I want to press against you

to feel held

to feel loved

You rest your hand on my hip

Gently, tentatively

Afraid of me

or yourself

I cannot tell

A battle rages inside of you

I can feel it in your movements

You shift away from me,

then towards me

Until it seems there is only you,

and me,

and your hand,

and my hip

Until my breathing becomes even

and I settle against you

and you ease yourself into me

As we fall,

hesitantly,

blissfully,

asleep.

 

Drift

I like how firm you are

When I touch you

There’s no give

You’re solid, there, present

Even when you drift

Away, hide away

You’re still with me

I hold onto your leg

Your arm, your heart

To anchor you

To ground me

Beat

She handed me her genius

placed it gently into my palms

Feeling the weight of it,

I knew inherently that this was

Ripped, dripping, red and raw

directly from her chest.

 

Fair Trade

I dripped blood on my notebook,

as a Sacrifice, blood of my womb

to birth a poem

Fair trade

I’m beginning to doubt if my womb

will shed anything but blood

I live in a perpetual state of loneliness

I’m not certain what it would be like

to care for someone else

I’m content in my selfishness

cozy in my solitude

My mind keeps me company

Helps to wile away the hours and

my  hands are my lovers,

they know me well

serve me well

Stardust

I’m not shiny, I’m not happy,

I am hurt and damaged

Most days I want to slice myself open,

Rip out my heart, tear apart my soul

And throw myself into a deep dark pond because

That would be easier than figuring this shit out

That would be simpler than asking myself

Where the fuck do I go from here ?

How the hell do I find happiness in this shithole called my life?

That’s most days.

Then there are some days where I remember,

I stand outside and stare at the night sky

I let the darkness surround me and gaze at stars

I tell myself that I am made of fucking stardust

And anything is possible

I tell myself that I am smaller than a grain of sand on a beach

I am atoms, and molecules and energy and life

And I can just be

I can just breathe

Because I am fucking stardust.

Dust

the thing that tugs at me from my  last relationship is not the fact that she and I didn’t work out, because, bless her. I mean, bless her. Hell in a handbasket that one, but the emphatic way in which she professed her love for me. Then just shut it off. Which if I’m honest, I shut mine off too. I tumbled head first into love, because that is actually, not a thing I do. I am meticulous and I analyze and this time I didn’t. I didn’t think, I just lept, and I’m not sorry for it, I’m not ashamed of it. What I am sorry for is that I let her speak in absolutes. I let her tell me that she would always love me. That she would love me forever. She didn’t even love me for a month. I’m smarter than that. I’m wiser than that but I let her. And here’s the thing, the whole time the smarter, wiser part of me was raging against it, part of me believed her. Part of me thought, maybe this gorgeous, lively, drunken mess will love me all the days of her life. And here’s the part I resent, pay attention: the part I resent is that I let that possibility creep in, and it didn’t work out. And now, it has fed my complex. I have an unlovability complex, you see, and she fed it. Piled it high with sticks and brush, poured gasoline on it, dropped a match and walked away as that motherfucker burned.

My mother gave me up for adoption when I was a baby. Gave me up. What the fuck kind of a phrase is that? Then, people are obsessed with adopting things, pets, railways, freeways, elephants, things. I’m lumped together with a fucking freeway and I wonder why I feel less than. Why I feel unimportant. Then I wonder why seeing people as carbon copies of those they share DNA with makes me want to grind my bones into dust.

I was given up for adoption when I was a baby. A woman who was supposed to love me forever gave me away like a pair of jeans and a girl who said she’d love me forever didn’t even stick around to watch me turn to ash.

And it’s not about her. I don’t love her. That’s not the point. The point is that I have an unlovability complex and I am ash. I am dust. And I need that fucking shit to change. The point is I share a category with a fucking freeway.

That’s the fucking point.

intimacy

i miss letting people in

i’ve never done it with lovers

only friends

and i haven’t done so in a long long time

people get confused though

because i share details of my life

things which some people would hold

so closely to their chests, never to spill out

i dump all over the floor

i do it for me, not for them

i am purging myself of my pain

but that is not intimacy, it is not closeness

 

not for me

 

to me, intimacy is when i lay my head on a lap

when i share a bed with someone and we let the night drift around us

the lights are out and we send our voices into the darkness

carrying whatever hope or fear or thought held within us

knowing that it will be caught by the other person

intimacy is knowing that even if all you are greeted with

is soft, even breathing, you are still heard

still loved

i miss that.

it has been years.

i want to find it again, in a lover

 

and a friend.

Whiskey

I wonder sometimes if I’m sick.  What it means that I have a bottle of whiskey underneath my bed.  What does it say that I only fall for people I know I can’t have?  I pour my heart and soul into relationships with men and women older than me, married, taken, mentor, boss.  I pour myself out then close myself off.

I hate that when I look at the night sky, I don’t know if I’m looking at a star or a satellite.

I’ve lost my father, my grandfather and my grandmother, fallen out of love, then in love and then out of love, all in the span of a year.

I’ve been gutted. Cleared out and all that’s left are tendrils, hanging, reaching toward each other, trying to connect, heal.  Trying to form a new heart, kidney, lungs.

The only time I can feel anything is with something in my hand.

I’m bleeding internally and it hurts like hell.  My insides are throbbing.   But I can’t feel them.  Sometimes it’s like I’m numb.  Feeling and not feeling.  Phantom heart, phantom lungs.

I remember what it is like to feel.  And I’m sure I’ll feel again.  I do it sometimes.  Spontaneously.  I’ll realize I’m laughing, or smiling without it being forced.  I’ll feel an urge to kiss a cheek or hold a hand.  Tears will spring to my eyes and blur my vision.  Rage will burn like coals in my belly and I’ll be heated.

I’m a poet without poems.  I’ve writers block and words come out hollow.  I turn phrases and they’re heartless, soulless.  Where is my passion?

Where is my soul?

 

The Sea

Let me crawl inside of your head
Take a tour through your mind
Show me where your secrets hide
I want to wade through your confusion
Slip past your memories and
Dive into your sea of knowing
I imagine that if I close my eyes
Open my mouth to let it sit on my tongue
I can taste your truth
Feel it soak into my skin
I want to consume and be consumed
If I dive down deep enough
I am sure I will come upon caves
Caverns lined with the story of your being
I will run my hands along the stone
Read your soul with my fingers
Rough here, smooth there, lovely and complex
The rock glimmers, shines from the depths,
There is a light there
It shines so brightly, dancing and rippling
At once cutting, rising, floating
It is your deepest secret
Your most sacred truth
Hidden safely away,
Buried, taunting, in the boundless
Sea that is your mind