Archive for August, 2014


Posted: August 31, 2014 in me

He is my next lifetime’s love
The one I would never put clothes on for
The one who would find me
Lost in the melody of his world
I’d memorize the smell of his collar bone, when he woke up in the morning
The length of his eyelashes
And the inevitable calluses on his thumb
Everywhere he took me would be my favorite place
And when I thought things couldn’t get more wonderful
We’d kiss goodbye before we could destroy it
If he read this
He wouldn’t hesitate
To pass it by
So I’ll read it to him
Next lifetime

A few years ago I decided to decide to have relationships. Starting with my family. I would choose it. I’d stop feeling stuck. I had to. I needed them. But this time it would be an exchange. Not just my taking. And things have healed.

But now it’s not that easy. All of the strings. The semantics. The proximity. Absence makes the mind grow peaceful. And this is the antithesis of that. But I’ve also chosen to stop blaming things that are not me. All I can do is me. And sometimes that means enduring. Sometimes that means walking away. I shall endure…this.

Ah…But the “exchange.” Well, I’ve gotten my shit together. Like for reals. Without any type of denial or lying to myself and anyone else I feel I’d need to impress. Which is no longer anyone…fyi…btw. I got myself out of some deep abysmal unsunshiney holes. I did school, got licensed, avoided coupling up for an escape route, took care of some finances and some health stuff. I’m 40 and this is the most freedom I’ve ever had in my life. Sad but true. And I.AM.DONE. The exchange was enlightening in my ability to exercise boundaries, for sure. But it drained me of my ability to pursue and nurture any outside relationships. I’ve never experienced things being copacetic with my family AND a boyfriend AND my job AND my friends AND me. And my life plan. Ever. And now it seems I have that opportunity. Minus many friends and a boyfriend. And a big chunk of me…

I’m…gasping…I’m…flailing…But like in a tight knit ball. I don’t have fun. I don’t do anything other than what I’m supposed to do. And it’s my fault. I’m shaky. I’m unsure how to do that junk. And while it’s not some monumental thing for others for me to ask somebody “hey what are you doing?” or “do you want to do this?” For me it’s huge. And one no or one neglected reply sends me back into the drudge. Left right left right no eye contact please. I used to be a fool. But I was bold. And confident. And sexy. And popular. An addition. And now I’m…THIS. In a constant state of “What is the point?” And for a time, I needed that. To be safe. But in the middle, I was brave. For a little while. And now I’m…THIS. THIs. THis. This. this. (this) and i don’t know what this is

My One True Love

Posted: August 7, 2014 in me

What are you grateful for? For me, my gratitude shifts from moment to moment, inhale to exhale. Family, love, friends, safety. The one thing that has always remained is my gratitude for music. Music is the one place I can go that everyone is glad to see me. It knows my secrets. It doesn’t care what I’m wearing. Or if I showered. Or if I have been crying or laughing. It isn’t judging to see if I’m punk enough, black enough, educated enough, artistic enough, lonely enough, gangster enough, or experienced in the struggle. I love music and music loves me back. No matter what. Even and especially when it breaks my heart. Music keeps me safe and tears me apart and restructures me. Music makes me whole and is my soul. I spend most of my day there. I don’t need a plus one. And rarely have one. It’s the only place my honest. It’s the only place I don’t wonder if I’m beautiful. Music is temporal. Music is abstract. Yet I see it. I taste it. I bleed it. I know it’s texture by heart. I am clothed in it. Consumed by it. And it never ever ever spits me out.