Memories of What You Can't Seem To Let Go

I am a pretty cautious person by nature, despite how it might seem, when it comes to protecting myself emotionally. I think everyone has those triggers that put them mentally in an unhealthy place that they want to avoid. I do everything I can to keep myself from those situations. I've done what I can to help myself heal from things that have hurt me in the past and by and large I feel like I am well adjusted given my fairly chaotic and occasionally awful past. And yet, there are days when it seems the past is inescapable and you find that you are much more vulnerable than you imagined you could be.

Let's rewind for a moment to about four or five months ago. I was just starting to work as a server at The Diner. Or, at least, I was finally comfortable enough with my surroundings that I didn't feel like every weekend was a battle. Its then that I first noticed this nice, quiet guy who read books and sat by himself. He came in every Saturday. He seemed nice enough. I noticed him enough that he eventually became That Nice Quiet Book-Reading Guy Who Always Orders a Breakfast Special (Take Three Creams with the Coffee). We would chat occasionally and I discovered he was an interesting person. He liked the outdoors. He seemed pretty well rounded. About two months ago I found out he's an Arborist. He then became (in all my references to Kitten when talking about work) That Nice Arborist Who Comes In On Saturdays and Reads. By luck or design he started landing in my section more often. It was then that I discovered two things 1- he does just about everything from play instruments to rock climbing to reading, in general that he is a person whom I would like to hang out with. 2- His name. We'll call him Jack here (short for Lumberjack, or Jack of all trades, you chose).

So I happened to have an extra ticket to the symphony this last weekend and I invited Jack along. I was both pleased and surprised when he said yes. Sakura and I go (well we try) every month. He has season tickets and I am almost always his date. Anyway, we went, we had dinner, Jack met Kitten and Sakura and things were nice.

Cue Sunday. Without airing Jack's dirty laundry I can say with a fair amount of certainty that he has, in most people's eyes, a personal history that would make him predisposed to dislike me. That he was not only comfortable but gracious and very open with me and my strange little family speaks to his strength of character, I think. I know, without him telling me, that he was putting himself out there when he joined us on Saturday. I took it as a compliment. Imagine my surprise when that morning when he was in eating breakfast that he invited me to come watch him play his instrument at his church that Sunday night. Once again, I'll reiterate that his character already shames mine because I don't know if I would be able to ask him to come, I don't know, watch me sing or read my writing or whatever. Not this early in our tentative friendship. Not especially considering those extenuating circumstances with would bother me considerably were I him. He was even kind enough to point out he was not proselytizing in inviting me- proving he was intuitive enough (or I scream NOT CHRISTIAN loudly enough) to see that might be something of a deterrent to me. Even though, once he gets to know me better, he'll understand that I really don't mind most Christians, or the religion itself, really. Its just not my cup of tea, and we've already discussed here my philosophical disagreements with the religion- I won't rehash it.)

What he couldn't know (and what some of you who have been around for some time will recall ) is that I was sexually assaulted by my Pastor's son and some of his friends when I was a teenager. The resulting damage to my person, and my mental health and all of the horrible things that came after that when I foolishly sought help from my pastor, thinking he would do the right thing and want to help me (I was really, really naive) have had a profound effect on me as a person. He wouldn't know about the years of therapy. The drugs. The attempts on my own life. My blatant disregard for my own health and safety. My lack of personal value. The number or horrible relationships I ended up in that mirrored, in some sick way, that first really awful one. He wouldn't know this. And he shouldn't really. Because in the intervening years, as most of you are aware, I've gotten help, I've healed and in general I consider myself to be as well adjusted and happy as a person who has gone through what I did can be. I live a relatively open life. I have learned to cope with my anger and fear. I am in a successful, healthy relationship. I have friends who love and support me and help me when I feel weak. Any person who looks at me would not see those hidden scars. I don't want them to.

So imagine my surprise- after all these years of being well adjusted and happy- at finding myself in the parking lot of his church Sunday night, sitting in my truck, having an utter and complete panic attack. I never even saw it coming. You know, it occurred to me as I pulled in that outside of three funerals, one wedding and a couple of Midnight Masses at Christmas (and honestly, a Catholic church is a completely different animal from a tiny protestant church) I have not set foot inside a church building since the incident as a teenager. I certainly have not been to any church without having someone whom I might consider a security blanket with me. So there I was, sitting there, feeling one hundred percent out of sorts and a little bit terrified, trying desperately to talk myself off that panic ledge. I remember telling myself how big a step it must have been for Jack to be with my family. I remember telling myself that I could be a big person. I remember telling myself that I was not going to punk out. I was already there.

And honestly, as I sat there, I reminded myself that I am different now. I know who I am. I am stronger. I am braver. I know how to protect myself. As a priestess I speak with god more often than most of these people would ever in their lives. I never thought the day would come when my being a witch would be the thing that made me brave enough to walk into a church. But it was. If I can hear the voice of god, if the goddess comes to me in my dreams, if my Grandfather and Great Grandmother and all my sacred dead can sing me to sleep on my worst nights, there was really no reason I should be worried that they would not be there for me in that moment. And so I got out of my truck.

And Jack, thank god and goddess, came out of the church just then to get something out of his truck. And he spotted me. And promptly commented on how terrified I looked. Bless his heart, he asked me if I was afraid of combusting or being struck down by god when I went inside and he laughed. I managed a smile and told him with complete honestly that I was fine with God, it was his followers that had me anxious. Bless his heart, he put his hand on me and led me in and let me sit down and I could tell he felt bad when he had to go do other things. But he did come back, and when he wasn't playing he did sit with me. I felt bad about that, really, because I feel like he was babysitting me. I know he had people he probably would rather have been with.

Did you know that all churches smell the same? I swear they do, though I didn't recognize it until now. The voices sound the same. Its like the same picture, over and over, no matter where you are. I find it ironic. The sounds are the same. The church may be different- they may see themselves as completely unique- but I swear I had been to so many before...well, before. And it doesn't look like things have changed. Which is fine for them, of course, but for me was immensely uncomfortable.

I want to say this- Jack played beautifully and I am really glad I went. I really am. I might even go again because honestly, now that I am seeing my own fear I feel like I should face it. And it wasn't so bad really, even if I am on a different page spiritually. Their pastor is really, really nice. That said, I spent a lot of the evening jumping every time there was lightening (because of course there was a storm rolling in), twisting my rain jacket in my hands in an attempt to look like I was merely chilly and not fighting the impulse to white knuckle the seats (I was not leaving!) and struggling desperately to turn off my "witch eyes" which had suddenly decided to light up like The Plaza at Christmas (let me tell you how fun it is to be seeing auras and sensing emotions and have your psychic mail box go off while you're trying to focus on something else entirely.) Obviously something about the place or the situation put me in an Alpha state, which is great. Unfortunately, I was trying to torch my own personal demons.

I think I tripped over my own feet three times in the ten yards to the door (thank the lord that everyone already knows how clumsy I am). I managed to get out of the parking lot and home without wrecking my truck. I only had a little cry after I got into bed. I managed a whole night without nighmares, though, and that's got to count for something.

I suppose I am stuck in a strange place feeling like I am really weak because I had such a crushing panic attack and being proud that I got through it. I'm still sorting out how I feel. I am still trying to sift through the emotions I had and the ones I have now. I'm trying to give myself space and think about the whys and wherefores of a building being a trigger. I can't punish myself for it. I know that. But I feel disappointed in myself. I thought I was stronger.

Kitten says I am being unreasonable. That when traumatic things happen to us that we never really truly recover from them. I would never judge her for reacting to fire the way she does. I would never condemn a person who struggles with an eating disorder or addiction or any other thing that even slightly suggests less than sterling mental health. She's right, I wouldn't.

Is it wrong that I hold myself to a higher standard? Maybe, but it doesn't mean I don't.

AGxx

I Would Prefer She Didn't Empty Her Syringes Into Your Arms

I'm going to preface this post with a warning, I've been a little bit angsty, and I am getting all my issues off my chest right now. This my involve me talking about people in my life. It may mean it involves you. I'm sorry. But this is my space, and its time for me to leave everything on the table and move on. If you can keep handle of the drama...read on. 

Sometimes its difficult to remember that there's a plan. That I have one, and that life and the universe have one for me.

The last month or so has been really interesting for me. I've experienced a lot of growth. I've had a lot of change in my life. We have a new dedicant for our coven. I was getting on track with my bills (oh, my bills, the never ending game of catchup from all my prior bad decisions) I've been growing spiritually, I've been forming and reassessing new bonds with people. I felt like things were moving forward.

Then last week happened. And it rather feels like the rug has been pulled out from under my feet.

First things first, I suppose.

Anyone who knows me knows I'm an addict. I don't use now, but I used to. I'm 11 years clean and I take a lot of pride in that. I used to have a big problem. I recognize, too, that those feelings never really go away. Temptation is usually only a line, a pill or whatever away. So I stay away from that stuff. Anyone who has ever been invited into my home knows that's my one hard and fast rule - you never bring drugs of any kind into my home. If you do, that's the last time you step over my threshhold, and its a deal breaker for friendship. If you love me, you'll keep that shit away from me.

As you may have read, I had my wisdom teeth out not too long ago. (two weeks now?) They gave me some serious drugs for my pain. I appreciated it. I can't take any NSAIDS, so ibuprofen and aleve and all those guys are out. I can't have over the counter medication and quite a few of the prescription ones are off limits to me too. So I usually end up with opiates. This is fine, most of the time. I get what I need to get me through, and its over.

The wisdom tooth thing, however, brought to my mind the real trouble with being an addict. I unquestioningly took those pills every four hours for an entire week without thinking about what it was doing to my body. How sad and foolish of me. I know better. Within days my body had formed a habit for them. I didn't really realize it until last weekend when I left my pills at home when I went to work. Then my body reminded me how terrible a come down can be. I had cold sweats and hot flashes. (and let me tell you, when its a 100 degrees in the back of my restaurant, that's an amazing feat.) I was shaky, irritable and frightened. I was paranoid. I was tired and my body was threatening to do all sorts of things, from faint to go into full-blown migraine mode. I knew none of it was real. None of it. Still, when I got home, I took a pain pill because my (lack of) tooth was hurting. I instantly felt better.

By Monday I knew I was in trouble. I turned over the pills to Kitten  in the morning and told her not to give them back to me. I don't need them. Cue a really bad day at work where I spent most of my free time in the back station we don't keep open during the week sipping sweet tea really slowly and trying to pull myself together. I bit off Oscleot's head and I knew I was in trouble when Flyguy came to find me, tried to hug me and make me feel better and I couldn't even relax in his arms. He's the safest person I know outside of Kitten. Bad day.

I think the thing is, I'm really disappointed in myself. Sakura tells me not to be so hard on myself. I mean, I had to take the pain pills. There wasn't an option. And I can't help that my body formed an addiction so quickly. (I still, by the way, want one. Thank Goddess Kitten hid them in case my willpower gave out) Still, I should have waited when they wore off to see how long I could go before I needed another one. As I told Flyguy, other people letting you down is tolerable most of the time, but letting yourself down is impossibly horrible. You feel like the worst person on earth.

After a week of detoxing, and drinking lots of water and eating healthy foods, I've almost returned to normal. I can eat a meal without being sick to my stomach (turns out the doctor was right- that mystery illness I had last summer was a result of my former drug use. The symptoms are exactly the same) I can almost go to the bathroom with regularity. I have leveled out my moods. It will be okay. I'll never be that careless again. Lesson learned. Even if I do feel like a fool.

Over the weekend I also got to deal with work drama. There's always drama at work, but this time it actually involved me. I won't go into detail, but suffice to say, for the first time since I've become a supervisor at Casa Bueno, I stood up for myself. It didn't end well. There's was lots of confrontation to be had, and I hate confrontation. Especially now that I'm trying to get ahold of my anger issues. I don't want to loose my cool at my job. I fought for it this weekend. I was fortunate that I was able to maintain calm. But the long story short is one of our managers left the company and I'm pretty sure the staff thinks this is a direct result of what I did. It isn't, but it will be perceived that way. I'm bracing myself for all the drama that is going to fall out from that. The other supervisor who doesn't seem to particularly like me very well anymore (she used to) is good friends with the one that left, and I feel like I've got to be careful. I never meant to upset or offend anyone.

When we got paid on Wednesday, my check was significantly smaller than it had been. Yesterday I asked about that. It turns out I got served for a garnishment (hello, old unknown medical bills) and someone had signed for me. I missed my court date and chance to settle, and from what I understand, I would have been able to. Now I'll be having to call attorneys and crap to see if I can pay this old bill without the $2,000 interest that is going with it because of the garnishment. Stupid. And upsetting. And the upshot was, no one told me.

I felt like my world had moved a little off kilter. I'm going to try and take care of it next week, but it looks like I won't be getting paid for the work I do for the next two weeks or so...the courts move at a snail's pace. And I'll be working as a supervisor more the next few weeks, so I'm going to be working for free. I've done it before, I love my company so I don't mind taking the hit every now and again. I just wish I had time to prepare myself so I could have some money stacked away. I mean, I did just drop the $1,000 we had laying around on my teeth. Ouch and a half.

Our regional manager is coming in this weekend, and I'm terrified that it isn't going to go well for me. Our GM and HM are going to be out of town. This would be the perfect time for an angry and disillusioned supervisor to throw me under the bus. I'm praying that won't happen. If it does, I'm secure that my GM will get my back when he comes home. I want everything to run smoothly while he is away. So...I'm a little stressed about work.

Cue personal stress in the form of one former coven member who is taxing my limits of perfect love and perfect trust. I won't name names, because I'm a good person. But most of you who read me with regularity will notice when a person who was formerly in a lot of my posts disappears. Yeah. You have this one figured out.

Anyway. This person and I have had a conflict personally over the last few months. To my best understanding, it came from them telling me about some life decisions they were making that they were unsure about. I was clear I wasn't judging them, but I also told them that if they had to ask me how to feel about it, they probably already knew how to feel. One of those decisions involved their life partner, who is also someone I am close to, and it put me in a tough spot.

Over the next couple of weeks they became increasingly angry with me. They stopped coming to coven meetings. They bailed on a holiday. Then they disappeared, only to resurface long enough to try to make amends, get angry when I didn't throw fluffy bunnies and rainbows at them, and then disappear again. The trouble is, the coven notices that sort of thing, especially when the after-effects of their bad decisions start raining down on everyone in the group mind in the form of bad karma. And you know what? They had a right to know what was going on. But sometimes you're supposed to respect confidences.

Last week this person, along with all the coven members, received an email from me letting them know that we were finally putting our governing principles (think bylaws, or code of conduct) in place and that everyone would need to get together to read them and sign them. Its time for us to lay down the ground rules. I thought we could wait until our coven got bigger, but it became apparent to me that no, it couldn't. It was time to start playing a real game, and stop playing Calvin Ball. This person came to me and let me know they were sorry for their actions. Then they gracefully bowed out of membership, recognizing that the code of conduct we had set would probably be something they weren't ready for. I appreciated that, because it was mature, and also saved me the trouble of possibly having to throw them out at some later date.

I told this person, who is an old friend of mine, that they were still my friend, and that was something that would never change. This person decided to test that theory yesterday. I'll admit, I was already in a bad mood. I've been dealing with a lot, I'm post-pill grumpy and I just found out someone at my work screwed me (intentionally or otherwise) out of about two grand. I knew they were coming because we had talked about it. They were coming to have some buddy time and catch up because we haven't seen each other much.

When they got to work they had brought someone with them. I would have been delighted if it had been their partner, because I love their partner with all my heart. But it was someone else. Someone I could have gone the entirety of my life without meeting and been fine. This person was the root of the conflict this person and I had gone through and to me, it seemed like both a slap in the face and a colossal insult to my integrity. I couldn't believe they could be so insensitive. I ignored the part of my brain that said they were doing this on purpose, I want to think the best of people. Suffice to say, I was not charmed to meet this other person, and I was fighting with all the dignity I had to be cordial and polite. I'm not entirely sure I succeeded.

The staff, who knew that me and my friend (?) had been fighting were at first delighted to see that they were there being a pal. Then they asked who the other person was. When I explained they were aghast. Let me tell you something, when a grown adult can shock and horrify a teenager with their callous behavior, its bad. Maybe they just thought that my friends were better, more mature than that. I sure did. Either way, I got several loving pats on the back. At least my staff loves me, right?

So all of this bad stuff has left me feeling a little heavy, a little hurt and a little off kilter. I try to be an upbeat, inspiring person. That's what I was born to do. This week, its been hard. I've had a difficult time finding my serenity. I've been clutching at the straws of my happiness.

I will say this. I'm lucky to have wonderful people in my life. Sakura has kept a running dialog with me about the goings on, and has given me a lot of love. Felix, new to me as she is, has sent me love and light every day. Its an indicator, to me at least, that she's a good person to have in my life. Shorty came over and spent an evening with me. We had a nice time. Flyguy, for the first time in months, made it over to spend another evening with me. I got two whole uninterrupted hours with him. I realize now how very much I had missed his company. There's something wonderful about his sincerity and his lightness. He's like a constant recharge to my personal battery pack. He proves there are good people in the world. He's one of them. My partners have been loving and supportive in all of this. They spoil me rotten. They took me shopping so I'd feel pretty, they cooked me dinner so i'd eat. They held me when I was feeling awful. They understood when I needed space.

My world isn't ending. Last night, at the suggestion of my friend Batik, I went out into my back yard and just sat. I let the earth and the evening fill me up. I let the energy of the garden i love so much tend to me for a change. I watched all my stray kittens play in the yard. I watched the moon rise- and I swear she never glowed so brightly before. I realized this- despite how overwhelmed I feel, it only takes moments for me to be grounded. I have to trust that I make good decisions for myself. I have to give myself a little slack, because everyone makes mistakes.

I've been building a good life for myself. I used to work in construction. Let me tell you- there is never a project that was on time and on budget. There's extra expenses, nasty surprises and sometimes there's delays. Sometimes its so hot you can't hardly move for fear of suffocating. Sometimes it rains so hard all you can do is bail out and brood about how far behind you get. But every now and again everyone pitches in, you get the day's work done and there's time to do a little extra. The boss is pleased with your work. You collect your paycheck and head off to the bar for a beer and a moment to laugh and dance when you put your favorite song on the jukebox. Let me tell you a secret. My life is just like that.

I'm saving my quarters for the jukebox, because its not going to be long before the day comes that I'll be ready to let go and laugh.

I do it all the time, after all.

AGxx

My Baby's Got a Secret

I want to know your secret. I see it. Every day. In the corner of your mouth, in your eyes, in the curve of your hips, in the skin on your hands. Some nights I lay in bed and I ponder, how deep does it go? How far could I reach before you stopped me?

I think of you. And I worry about me and you and how we feel when we touch. Is it warm for you? Does it feel hot like it does to me? Your secret is electric and I'm wired for another taste of it. I like the shock. I like the thrill. I like the speed at which you race through me.

I'm restless tonight and its all your fault. I'll stay up late, wondering how you feel. Wondering what you would do if I told you just how good it is when you're close to me. Would you try to steal my breath, just to hear me gasp? I think you would, because I would if I were you.

How deep could I go? How far would I be willing to reach before I pulled away? You lock yourself up tight. I see you in your tower and I think of you and a white horse and how I want to ride away with you on the back of it with your hands around my waist. You're wrapped up in red gauze and I want to pull it away and see you the way you are when no one is looking.

I think I share your secret. I think I know where it lies. I think I could take it and run my hands through it and know that you and I are more alike than we'd either one like to admit. You and I are running on the same plane, to the same place, and we race like there's no one else in the world who sees us. We're bound up together and I can feel you all around me.

But I've spotted you and I think you see me coming. I can hear it in your breath and I can feel it in the air. I've got eyes like a cat in the dark and I'm looking for the place you hide.

Drinking the Dawn

The sun was being born, brilliant and startling and I was in your arms. I was being remade, strange and trembling as I felt you all around me. And there, in that moment, I felt my pulse like I never had before. It beat in my lips and against my chest in a frightening display of rebellion and ecstasy. I could feel the room flashing about me as my eyelids fluttered and I was undone.

The room spun, and it took you with me- tumbling over again and again as I learned myself from the tips of your lips. I took each lesson, a long drink at your mouth, and found I was drunk on the feeling of you knowing who I am. I could see it in your eyes and the flash of your teeth as you smiled down on me and tore through me with speed and accuracy.

I find myself wondering idly what you saw in my eyes in that moment.

I could tilt my head back and beyond the brilliance of the sun, and the spinning, and the light that danced up from out of my mouth and into yours; I could look up and see the dust in the sky, the shadows of each planet and the stars hiding their faces. The heat of that moment was too much for them to bear. I felt their pulse too, and only in fleeting moments can I remember it without the pain they surely felt at seeing us together.

That moment, with you, I could feel the earth open up and wrap itself around me, just as you had. I could feel my hands and my feet and my nails and my hair being bound up in it, tight- so tight that I almost stopped completely. I can hear now that soft escaping sigh, the release so quiet I could hardly confess it, and I remember the feeling of the earth, your skin, coming up soft and sweet smelling between my fingernails.

I remember like the wind, the way my hair fell, tangled and confused as you took me over. Soft, tossed, like silk spun in secret at twilight it carried its own whisper. Never stop. Never go. This is too much, and enough and I am so soon empty and aching for more of what I've lost. Gather me up, hold me tight, braid me into a tale of sweetness and perfection I cannot believe but must.

There's a soft velvet purring in my chest. The sun rises higher in the sky. I close my eyes, I wait for dark. I wait for you. There is nothing but this moment, my memory, my heartbeat and the hope of another dawn with you.

AGxx


Postscript-

As you can see, I sat down to write a normal post and nonsense came out instead. My apologies. I'll be returning to my regularly scheduled redundancy as soon as possible.

Does anyone have any topic suggestions?

Press Me

There has to be more.

Tonight I want more. Tonight, as I stare out the window at the clouds rolling across the moon, I pray that there is more. A terrible empty feeling is welling up inside me. I cannot escape it- just as I cannot escape you.

I can feel you more than I can see you. I know you are there, standing over me, just beside my bed. I can sense the power rolling off your body in waves, drowning me, pulling me further down. The strength of you body does not have to be seen tonight. I can sense it as I watch the clouds, the stars and the moon. I can feel it as I lay here and wish for more.

Tonight I want you to tear me apart.

It seems to me there is more in that than there is in anything. I want to feel more than I do now. I want to feel more than the hollow, echoing ring of my own pain. There is a waterfall inside me and I have run it dry for too long. I have let the tears fall, let them slip down inside me and fill me up and then waste away for as long as I can think of. I want to feel something else.

Come and kiss me. I can feel you, kneeling on the bed over me. It has a weight to it that I never remember feeling before. Slip your mouth over mine and stifle the cries that threaten to rip up out of me and break the silence of the night.

Just like that. See? That's perfect. The hard, almost cold pressure of your mouth is overwhelming me. Calming me. Bringing me an odd sense of peace as I drift away into you. The feeling of your body on mine is comforting. I let go. I can feel myself now in you. I can taste the rise of the heat between us. I can feel the pressure of all the things we will never say. It threatens me, and I love it.

Your nails raking down my back are ecstasy. My skin, tearing beneath your onslaught, is better this way than ever it was whole. I feel myself in a completely new way as you lift me, turn me, make me yours. The taste of cotton on my tongue is sweet. The sheen of sweat you bring to the surface better than any dampness my body finds in its long, lonely wanderings.

Press me, push me, take me further than I have ever been. I can see you are wanting to lead me down a path of pain and pleasure. You see that I walk it willingly with you. My hands belong to you. You make them your own as you use them. My mouth is yours completely. I scarcely recall breathing as you fill me over and over. I remember no taste but that of you and me, of my pleasure on your fingers, of your passion on my tongue. Give me your mouth. Share it with me over and over. Your teeth are gleaming ivory knives. I want to feel the tiny cut, the sweet peicings as you consume me. Send me up in flames for you. Let me show you all that I can be when you make me.

Tonight your violence is something I crave. It is beautiful, terrible and perfect at once. The terror and emptiness that was sweeping like a wind through me is gone. You have come to shake me free of it. I can match you tonight. I can fight you with all there is in me. I find there is more, there was more, than I expected. I find with you at the bottom of the well inside me a fire burns and you have stoked the flames. They lick up inside, burning me in my stomach and my throat. My fingertips become matches and I can touch the tinderbox of your love.

There is nothing gentle about you. There is nothing tender and sweet. I am so thankful. I am so happy. The power of your body propels me on. The force of you is more than I can bear, and I want to fight it. I want you to feel me too. I want you to know that though I am conquered I am not servile. Though I am below you I am not submissive. I can see the light in your eyes and I know that I am the one that set them ablaze.


The closeness of your hands on my wrists, your mouth hard at my neck, your legs trapping me- all of these things make me want to fight you, to make you work harder to take me. They make me want to push you to the edge. Tonight, you will want me more than you have before. I will press you, pull you, drive you to the edge of reason. You will feel it with me- the echo, the longing, the sense of despair as I pull you deeper into me. When I weep it will be your mouth that drinks my tears. It will be the sweetness of your kiss that wipes away all that I have felt, leaving me with a sense of peace and contenment.

You will drown in who I am tonight, and we will both wake more alive.

Take me tonight. Tear me up. Let me have you too.

Feeling the Evening

On the menu tonight: Emo Crap. Skip it is you don't like it. But, as far as emo crap goes, its not too bad. For me.

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If you asked me what I saw tonight, I would tell I saw the clouds. Skitering tight against the sky and rolling over the moon so that it seems like Halloween in fast forward. Soft, grey and edged in ebony. If I took a fistful of obsidian and threw it hard across the grass, that would be the clouds this evening.

I'd tell you I saw the stars. Stars are so romantic. Right? That shimmering softness in the black of night is a guide. Somwhere up there is the people you love, the people you miss, and they watch over you and you can feel safe because they are there, shining on you. I don't see that in the stars. Tonight I see them laughing at me, the twinkle is the shine in the eyes that hide a smile beneath a serene gaze and fingers lightly tripping over the mouth. I can hear the soft sigh as those fingers move, the secret laughter of the earth in the wind this evening.

Its not the stars so much, its the spaces between them, another romantic notion that there's more out there, more to be had, more that can be sought. How sad- to think that the brightness of the stars, those loved ones looking down, is just the reflection of the greater blackness around them and me and you. How terrifying to think that between all those spaces are not only the hopes and wishes of everyone, the things we strive for and the all of the untamed and wild possibilites of life; but also the things we will never achieve. It seems to me tonight that the sky is the backdrop, the canvass of all my future failures and lost dreams.

Tonight I see nothing, nothing I want to see, nothing I can hope for. Tonight I see the blackness and bleakness of life. It doesn't depress me, it doesn't bother me. In a way, its comforting to think I am not alone in the constant toil and failure that is life. Keep moving, keep moving and I will share it all with you and we will be alone together in the dark looking at the laughing stars and thinking that there's more.

Ask me what I hear. Ask and I'd tell you I hear the sound of trains moving in the distance. Its lonely and comforting and beautiful all at once. Its work- work to be had, work completed and time that will never be gotten back, however long we moan.

I hear the sound of water moving, though I couldn't tell you where or why. I can hear the babble of water over cobble, dripping off my roof and sliding down over the windowpanes through the cracks in the ceiling and dripping into the floor. Its a soft sound, almost noiseless, the fall of water into carpet. I like it, the falling, the tripping, stumbling, freewheeling feeling before you're silently absorbed into nothingness. I can her the water playing and it makes me wish I was playful tonight, that I could rollick and laugh and be silly for no reason at all. I wish I was clever like that water; moving, changing, never seeming to mind where it goes, so long as it does, so long as it moves on. I love the water tonight.

I love its sound and I love its feel. I want to slide deep into it and lose myself in its heat. I want to pull myself in over head and fill my ears and my eyes and my mouth before breathing deeply, spitting it out and laughing at the feeling of it pouring down my shoulders. I want to feel it all over me, on my legs and my hips and running down my back, tickling and teasing me and reminding me to keep moving. I want to hear the splash and know that I can scatter it too. I can move and push and change the things that move and the things that won't stop. Somehow, there it is, I can feel it and touch it and change it and somehow its the same all over again.

I couldn't tell you if it was raining, I couldn't tell you if there were water running nearby. But tonight I hear it like the roar of the ocean in my head. The waves lapping at my feet and teasing and tempting me to move onward with it. It sounds so good.

Tonight I smell things too, of course. I can smell chocolate, faintly, ever so slightly and it makes my mouth water. I can taste it on my lips and I wonder where its come from too. Tonight I can taste nicotine on my breath and it makes me think of countless nights and countless kisses and tears and screams that I was never really able to let go of until I smoked. I think of the soft tap tap of the pack and I can taste the filter and the paper in my mouth, like I've never lit the ciigarette, but it doesn't matter, because it burns for me whther I light it or not. That makes no sense, does it? It makes no sense to have the fire there, when it was never lit, but so it is. It burns and smolders and fills me up.

I taste mint tonight, I feel it in my teeth and on my tongue and on the outsides of my lips every times I lick them, I can taste it as I breathe, deep inside, and it teases me with its scent even though there's no mint here, no oil, no candy or anything sweet. No, tonight it just me and the water and the stars, but the smell of mint lingers like I am laying in it and it has been all over and inside of me. Somehow I am made of mint tonight.

Thre's something else to scent. It isn't the thing I want but its there and it echoes and teases me and I can't stand it because its not...its not anything. Its like earth and rain and dampness and sweat and the smell of leather all together at once. It smells like the center of a seraglio with inscence burning and women dancing and there's life and light and painful lust and I can smell it. I can smell the scent, like fresh turned earth, like grass freshly mown and it drives me crazy. Its the smell of shampoo and rubber and plastic and salt. Its sweet, so sweet and its not sweet at all. It stings my mouth as I taste it and it burns as the scent moves up into my mind. I somehow think it is the mosnt inescapable scent of all. I can't stand it, but it is always there.

But to feel, isn't that where this must go? What do I feel? What can I feel? The immediate is superceded by all the things that overwhelm when I close my eyes and let go and try to simply feel. I feel wet and cold and hot all at once. I feel tiny blades of grass all over my legs and in between my toes. I feel the breeze moving its teasing laugh over my chest and into my hair and tossing it and tangling it until thtere is nothing for me to do but throw my head back and laugh at it . I feel the touch of love, the touch of pain, the touch of everything, like laying in a feild full of blooming flowers and there being nothing but nettle when I stand. It feels like pavement beneath my feet; sticky oils competeing with the softness of the grass, trying to heat me, warn me, drive me to somewhere new and different.


But to feel? What do I feel? What can I feel? I want to say nothing, nothing at all. I want to say there is an empty, echoing, hollow part of me that feels nothing but that's a lie. I feel everything, all at once, and that seems wrose sometimes. I feel like there is fullness to the point of pain, aching to the point of terror, and love to the point of weeping. There is so much, there is everything. There is me and you and everyone in the world and it feels tonight like all of them are crying and I can feel it all over me. Somehow though, I can feel it too, the hysterical laughter. I'm alright, I'm alright, its says. I'm not afraid, I'm not anything. But to feel it, to feel it all..

Tonight, to me, its perfection.