Crafting: 301

I don’t know how to rewrite my narrative

I don’t know if that’s true

I dont know where to start

I dont know if thats true either

What do I know then ?

I know that loving myself is going to be hard

Loving myself is going to take work. It will require me to breakdown a lot of ideas I have about myself. Loving myself will require me to unlearn destructive behavior patterns and learn the cause and affect they have on my life. Loving myself  will require me to have grace and loving tenderness with and for myself, in all my incarnations.

Meandering

I don’t know if what I am is manic

When I spill all over the place

Seem to spatter onto whatever I can find for canvas

Wild, sporadic

Without reason, but with intent

But the calculations run in the background

Hidden from me

Negative space

Writing this i am aware i am mixing metaphors

I am trying to decide if i care

I care too much and what I mean by that is i care too little

Grilling away at the smallest details

I lost where I started.

Sometimes, I step in or outside of myself and  wonder how I got here, look around my room and wonder who chose to put that picture on the wall, or who drank that tea?

Not me.

Fusion

I am angry. Furious, it would seem. That is this pain that has been lurking beneath the surface of my skin.

I smashed my body yesterday and I want to do it again. To feel it again. That abandon. That adrenaline. To feel another part of myself speak. I’d like to hear what they have to say. Reckless and rageful and they have been missing for quite some time.

I’m glad they finally showed up.

Hazy.


The other night I was sitting at the bar

Talking to a person who I am seeing, but not dating
Because these days, that actually makes a difference

We were talking about the space in between
Where thoughts happen and where they occur

What I mean is, the thought that inspires the thing
And the place where that thing becomes itself

Which is the truth?
Where is the truth?

The truth is in the space between

Which we will never fully grasp
Never quite see or catch
Hazy, but
It is also in the beginning and ending
Truth lives in all three
Birth and death
Life being, of course, the space between

What we can’t see
Where we can’t see

I dreamt I went shopping the other night
I was walking down the aisles of a grocery store
The light was bright, garish
Overwhelming

I couldn’t find what I was looking for
I can never find what I am looking for

I’m the type of person who has difficulty lighting a cigarette
Always standing in the wind, stifling the flame
I strike the flint once, twice, three times before shifting
Positions

Trying again.

Solving for F

Hidden-Figures-13.jpg

My brain has been ticking for months

got me feeling like math class,

pulling my gum, twisting it around my finger

eyes fixed on the page, staring at the problem,

body cemented in angsty agony

praying for the bell to ring

so I can put it aside for another day

begging the universe for more time

to try figure out how to solve for F

Freedom or Facism

or

freedom from facism

How do I balance the equation?

Got me like Taraji in Hidden Figures

up on that ladder

skirt leaning while I sway

I need me a computer

in the form of all those brilliant

rad and mad woc who got us to space

I need to accept that computer is the way to soar

Yeah, I think that is a metaphor

We’ve got to teach us how

to break these chains and fly

We be how we solve for F

Computing, how to Fuck this Shit all the way Up.

Certainty

I ripped up the photo of us

I took it off my altar last week

 I don’t know if I regret it

Ripping it, I mean

I can always print another,

If I want

The pieces landed on my guitar

I don’t think it was intentional

I was feeling petty and small and

Just a little bit trite

I can’t tell if I miss you

I’ve rebuilt the wall around my heart

Only concerning you, and a few other

Unmentionables 

I think it’s going to take me a minute

To come to terms with losing you

I had high hopes for us

My childish view of love and 

Relationships shining through 

I don’t want to have to say goodbye

To be conquered by fate and truths

Too harsh to be faced together

It’s important for us, it would seem,

To divide and conquer

Fate has other plans for us

Maybe we’ll get drunk together one night and

She’ll whisper them in my ear

Explain to me why we came together

Only to fall apart

Unsatisfied.

Unsure.

Letter to an Unnamed Lover

I had a good day today. I laughed often and drank good coffee and tried a new beer. It was good. Made with coconut. I sat at the bar and stared at the writing on my open notebook page. Words written while lifted with pot and booze. Something about my heart and the universe and the connection between the two.  

I talked with some strangers. Women. Beautiful. They seemed extra human to me today, set against the backdrop of a sort of nightmarish reality I see forming around me. Their eyes seemed brighter somehow…I don’t know. 

I’m writing you this letter because I don’t know who else to turn to. I need you now, in a way I’ve never needed anyone. I need you to rise up and meet me. To light me up, rip me open. I need you to teach me how to be human. How to have passion. 

How to connect.

I have a broken vagina. It stopped working months ago, well, years ago. Truth be told I’m not 100% certain it got hooked up properly. I need you to repair it. I don’t care what you’ve got to do down there, but make it right.

I know it seems like I’m asking a lot from you, but I don’t know who else to turn to. I don’t know who else to lean on. I’ve known you for so long, and you’ve carried me through so much, I just need you to be here for me now. I need you to tell me I’m beautful, whisper sweet nothings in my ear, dust off my knees when I fall down. I need you to be my steady voice of encouragement when the world just seems like too much.

Because the world seems like too much.

I need you to do this for me. For us. For this. This wild, maddening, gorgeous haze we call life. Because, lover, it’s going to get worse before it gets better. I promise. And I need you.

Lessons

I feel something give, even as tears drip from my eyes

I feel it loosen it’s grip around my chest, sad, nameless thing, bound up in archetypes and love, closing out the lessons of the past few years

I think this is the start of what I’ve been dreaming about

These dreams seem to be preparing me for some kind of journey

They are becoming more detailed, more layered, climbing and falling into themselves, leaving me always questioning, always feeling for more

Before I open my eyes, I feel myself going, feel myself realizing wakefullness is calling

What will my future hold? What waits around the twists and turns of time and space?

Time can be a cruel mistress. I move through her uncertain, but somehow sure

Knowing she will lead me to where I need to go

if only I have the strength enough, the courage enough to combine mind, with body, with spirit, with soul.

Nostalgia

The house is full. When it sleeps, each bed is occupied and the outbuilding is filled.

In the morning, when the sun is not yet fully risen in the sky, voices echo and bounce from all corners.

Silence ripples through doors, words wrap themselves around edges and through floorboards which creak as bodies pass over them, up them.

Walls sigh, as they expand to allow bodies to occupy their space.

Regret

You’re not coming, and it hurts my heart

Missing you has turned into a dull ache

Throbbing, ever present, in the back of my wanting

Trying not to miss you is like trying not to breathe

I can trick myself for a moment,

But only until panic catches in my throat and

I breathe in your memory in huge,

desperate gulps.