•September 24, 2014 • 1 Comment
The grinding teeth sharpening to points is just my body’s preparation
Preparing I’m sure
I’m to become something
Blackened gnarled arms claw at the sky
SOMEONE SAVE US
•June 9, 2014 • 1 Comment
I’ve been having this conversation with myself a lot lately:
“No, you just dropped a glass.”
“Nope, the sheet is just too short.”
“Can it be a bad day now?”
“No, one hairy shower at work does not ruin your day.”
It’s hard but policing myself this way and forcing myself to be positive (or at least rational) does make life easier.
Things are weird. The person I was talking to frequently needs space and time to sort out his life. He has huge changes coming up and I’m not sure that there’s room for me in his plans.
Keep moving forward.
No promotion. I don’t think I’m going to see one this season unless I apply for porter. (No thank you.)
Keep moving forward.
I should call home. And also my bank. And W. And basically anyone familiar because I feel like I’m drifting out of myself. Maybe I’m just becoming me.
•April 27, 2014 • Leave a Comment
I’m having all of these big dreams lately. I know I should be taking my meds but dreams are exciting and my hair isn’t falling out as aggressively as it was. Hopefully the structure of working will help manage the bi polar. If I can just keep moving, I won’t be able to curl into a ball and sob. Anyway I’m out of the worst of the withdrawal, now just comes the management.
Write a book; start a webcomic; couch surf; fall in love; adventure. These are the things that preoccupy me. I am gripped with terrible wanderlust. I’m too still and I have no direction. It’s crushing. I need to move and experience. I have the time, I have the freedom, I would just need to make the money as I go along. We’ll see. I’m sure it can work.
I’m a week away from leaving and it can’t happen soon enough. My house is extremely tense. No one can speak to my mother. We’ve all scattered to our corners. This isn’t healthy.
My Okc account is open and I’ve been chatting regularly with someone. I’m learning a lot about myself. A big solid realization hit me that I have never been a single adult. I don’t actually know what I want in a partner because I’ve not experienced an adult relationship. How weird is that? I was nearly married. I was partnered for 12 years but I don’t know anything about adult relationships. Outside of Okc, The Crush burns on. I’ve caught myself asking if I love him. I don’t know. I don’t think I know what love feels like. A terrified part of me hopes so intensely that it’s because the meds dulled me too much. It hopes beyond hope that I’m not incapable of feeling certain things. Greater than that even it hopes that there is something to feel to begin with.
•April 22, 2014 • Leave a Comment
Hey guys. I feel like an ass for doing this but I have a little problem. In about two weeks I begin my employment adventure in Yellowstone National Park. Unfortunately I’ve come up about $150 short in travel expenses with no current income to cover it. No income to fund the travel to get to the job that provides the income. Not cool. It’s such a small amount that I feel ridiculous asking, but that tiny amount stands between me and my direction.
Here’s the link if you’d like to help. <3 http://www.gofundme.com/8k5qvw
•March 10, 2014 • Leave a Comment
In bizarre indigo gardens.
Flowers with heads split wide
Screech imploringly to a glitter
I wait for her,
The mother of claws and feathers.
The man she hunted,
A coppery dream lingering in her cheek.
A plasma love.
(to the bone)
In my chest, muscle stutters
in attempts to follow
the ticking pulse of the mirrored faces,
Darting from every peripheral glance.
I’ve come to her,
Her child with a field of face irrigated in aggravated tears.
To the mother of claws and feathers
I’ve brought my nightmares.
“Kill them,” I cry. “They know my name. They eat me alive.”
All fanged affection,
Pure jagged maternal love,
She is to the sky.
A soothing glint of murderous nurturing.
And the very last thing the demons will sing,
“Is that the soft beating of mighty wings?”
•March 8, 2014 • 1 Comment
I own trauma shears
Black water organ cooler
Shrieking harpy mouth
Filled with razor lipped love
We can take the superfluous organs
And replace them with mirrors
Hollowed eyes to hold the peat
The secret mirrors reflecting back
Gardens full of clocks ticking
And wings beating