Rigid patterns
Frigid heart
(Shuts out sparks,
Nothing stays)
Rainbow bright
–Out damn night–
Dreams fill days
More, I crave
Mourning up
I splat down
Long fingers
Linger latent
Extend strength
Aide my angst
Defend my fate
A wise prophet
A proffering
I inhale deep
In you seep…
You saving me
(A soul so cold
died long ago,
Back to life
Every night)
I see G Love in Kalamazoo, MI in August. (Got to meet him a 4th of July like 10 years ago, so sweet, have a blurry picture, lol). Wish you were there.
She had never heard it before. Water doesn’t talk. She knew that, yet water whispered in the air around her ears, sprites to make her hear. April stopped, like Time. Eyelids barely kiss as she listens:
Come, yes! We love you…It’s time to be…
In the sea wild, tossing his ship about, Odysseus tied and blindfolded denied the Siren’s call. Her fate more atypical, April so enchanted followed the sounds to the sands at the edge of the babbling Brook, where she found an ancient stone wall.
Stretching to shrink, coil and elongate, vines grew to climb, shrouding the barrier as if guarded by snakes. April gazed upward, her curiosity coveting what’s beyond, she whispered:
“How I wonder what might be on the other side!” April rose to stand on a ballerina’s tallest tippie-toes to slide her hand, palm flat across the hard surface, until an innocent rose, growing latent through thorns, bites her finger, pricking the tip, scratching the surface of the sweetness within.
Oddly, a giddy gush awakens butterflies to flutter, piroueting an infinity symbol below her navel, and grinning as if for the first time. Her dazed orbs looked up and to the right, then, back to ground when a melodious voice sings:
Find me, it’s alright, see me in the night, my colors shine me bright.
Stumbling back in surprise, April fell into a spring, pouring out from a tree root that resembled a natural mystic spout, where head back, open-mouthed, she inhaled a gulp with a startled cough.
The rapid flutter of her eyelashes wipes away the disorienting gunk, pupils seeing through the cloud, a clarity of reality popping with a glowing aura of colors, and surrounding everything is a tangerine-orange also hugging April, who crawls from water to sand to a pillow of emerald land.
Goosebumps tickle a shiver over every inch of April’s skin and with curled toes, she moans:
“Bare me warm! This water isn’t even cold!”
No, it’s a pleasure pool.
A voice from the woods replied with no form to be found, making her heart ache and pound, unsure if she could trust the purity of the sound.
Then, a compulsion, anticipation betrays her as she slips out:
“Oh! So delightful! I’m vibrating, pulsing a rainbow of color through my veins…”
Head bobbing left, then right, April remembering to wonder aloud, “Hello?”
There, sitting on a stump, a giant day gecko electricity-charged green and adorned with little lamps of lustrous turquoise, crimson, and gold patterns. The most impressive ornaments upon his being were a top-hat and walking stick, which somehow, unbeknownst to April, he whipped out as he stood like he was in a commercial!
Join me! Let’s climb high and float down on a cloud.
(Pondering this idea for a few, thought I’d start, but my red pen literally just ran out of ink, so here I am again today, wasting time in my dreams…oh how silly I can be. How trite! Right, lol. Why am I sharing? It made me laugh, an image I created to help me find myself…I need to practice writing out-of-my-head kind of fiction.)
There’s a line that repeats in my head every time I get super frustrated at my life:
“the medicine of speaking and listening”
Remember back to when smoking pot was new and exciting. A person would puff ‘n’ give while talking, smoke pouring out of their mouth because they’re laughing…I can’t even speak while passing a peace pipe, NO ONE is listening, let alone hearing anything from my lips. A wife is said to become annoying, but NO ONE realizes I’m gone. It’s sad, but not for me.
I have that line.
“the medicine of speaking and listening”
I thought it was me. I’m just not worth listening to, I have no job, I have nothing important to say, so why should anyone listen to me? Fuck that. Sorry to be crass. I’m done being the blame for his wrongs. I’m done feeling like an ass.
I’m yearning for growth through connection, conversation like I used to feel when I got out of my head.
I wish I could give you a present for all the ways you help me in a day. Fun images when snide comments are thrown my way. Lovely lines that encourage my strength, advice in a way to not lose my shit when repeatedly I’m made to feel like a dick. It didn’t matter how often he tried to ruin my day, he couldn’t. Instead of crying and hiding, I climbed a hill and took a cool picture like I used to do when I was by myself. Progress I feel.
The full moon, milky white, sends shadows raining through the forest to shade the trees, who wave with the slight summer breeze. Allthewhile, Nature’s night-lights zip and zoom, flashing code, hoping to bring a loved one home.
Drips from eyes, drips from skin, I lie at the base of a dead tree, once a towering oak like me, recently toppled by a mighty storm. Fetal and ready to give in, a miracle happens:
From a Heaven in the cosmos, blessed by the moon’s magnetic magic, a star falls. The midnight moon blinks darkness with the clouds, but the star burns a tail of fire, flashing brightest just before landing like a rock rolling.
A moon dust cloud dissipates to reveal a glowing golden sphere, darkness and light ccombine, pushing against each other with such force…the golden globe cracks open with a thundering drum roll, vibrating my soul.
Two hemispheres once met OPEN a shimmering portal, a parallel universe, out from which you bow into my world to transform everything I’ve ever known. Your positive energy produces an orange aura that moves your shadow asway, mesmerizing me.
Closer…closer…a steady, measured approach as float turns to a sturdy gate, you move towards me with a smile on your face. Inching yourself over to my naked body. Warmth from your eyes saturates my skin with the tickles of goose bumps, and you bend down on one knee.
A natural moonlight melody comes from your lips, “Kelley, I’m here…” And your arms cover me with an instant embrace that whisks me up…up and away…
In your world, you cradle me as I become the color of free.
(Oh, my addiction to the thrill of adoration! I literally roll my wheelchair in and out of challenging all day, every day…but, I take the longing, under the covers…you are intoxicating!
However, coveting with intensity, longing to consume the joy of your fire…I couldn’t get much higher…)
It’s in me. I know it is because my subconscious keeps showing me. The sizzle of the chicken on the stove, open eyes wake-dream your eyes guiding your lips to land on the skin just below my ear, with a kiss grazing my neck, you whisper, “I’m here…” And while savoring that sizzle, oil pops out to smear my glasses, you know, fate reminding me of my reality with a fizzle.
I don’t write sex anymore because obviously I won’t ever get what I wish. Recently, he killed my artist endeavors on Instagram too (made fun of me for a few too many things).
Despite all that baggage bullshit, sexy images popping up in me tickled me pink all day long…
It’s the most wonderful thing! It’s in me! Passion, lust, desire, wild-fun love are in me still!
I want to be seduced and seduce my muse!
I now know what I’ve spent my life looking for: someone who inspires me.
I also know what I cannot abide: being belittled and sexless for the rest of my short life.
(I started volunteering at a summer camp for kids with disabilities where my daughter is teaching art and STEM. Good distraction:)
So dangerous to me…a beautiful fear. Watching you sing, so titilating. I can’t get enough, so I tried to cut myself off. I refused for a day to indulge…
No!
I tell myself, trying to be good, wondering what you’d let me do if only I could.
And that’s what gets me into trouble. I’m new to seeing someone so lovely, so close that I get confused, hot emotions wild, imagining you’re singing to me “under the covers” when my mouth meets yours, and that beautiful fear disappears as I inhale you while you’re near.
I have decided to begin challenging my anxiety, push my triggers and explore how to see and do more…
Today, I did it.
I’m practicing leaving my house by myself. I must conquer my fears and vanquish the lack of confidence that have kept me trapped…
Idependence achieved! I went with a girlfriend to Michigan for the first time (with no family) in seven years. Baby steps, but it’s a start.
A goal: To find you, love, some day, some how.
You make up my bucket list truth be told.
When I’m grounded, an adult unable to control my world, I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you. Funny, I pretend you’re seeing me, when really I have no idea.
My heart has already jumped on your ride, and you’re so powerful, you blow my mind!
In fact, like butterscotch pudding thick and sweet tongue-scooped to fill my mouth, eyes closed…the swallow…pleasure seeping into my body, that’s what you did to me today.
Oh…My!
Everyone asleep, I crave another peek, so off to the garage I sneak for another moment between you and me.
I wish I could give you even a sliver of the overwhelming pleasure, gratitude I feel when I see you. You cradle me when I want to crawl out of my skin, when I want to disappear, you help me find calm. I may just be talking to myself, but while I take you in, for a moment, I’m free, I’m wanted, I’ve got you to hold. A moment does my blues a wave of good, and I get to repeat that feeling while I sleep, finally able to touch you again.
Oh my, what a silly woman am I!
It’s unacceptable. I know. Silly, for sure. I have to purge before midnight, or sleepless I’ll be. So, here’s my unbelievable moment of honesty, with which I show the fool hidden deep.
I miss a video, well not exactly…how can I explain???
Funny how a song can not only bring back things unsettling, but also give a new beginning with a joyful memory.
His video, his voice, his smile, each creative choice did that for me.
No one knows that when I was about ten, I performed a dance routine during a basketball game half time show to “Dancing in the Streets.”
In dance and gymnastics from four to fourteen (when I had a car accident spinal cord injury), nostalgia when I hear certain songs can be unexpected. Well, every part of him singing was touching, and welling emotions made my skin prickly hot when he smiled, especially as he belted a beautiful “Chicago”.
A yearn began to dance about, urging my lungs to expell a belly laugh, honestly, like nothing I’ve ever felt, for tears too dripped onto my phone.
My brain wouldn’t let it go, so I had to figure out if I could find it again. Then, I searched…results:
Gone.
That was last night. All day, knowing it doesn’t matter that it matters to me, knowing it’s something I’ll never again see, breaks my heart repeatedly.
Lost, my confidence whipped raw, I think I’ll take a break from social media. I didn’t used to be so emotional!
I think it’s true…you stay the same age as your greatest traumatic event. For me that makes sense, I still act like a horny teenager, head up my ass.
My excuse is so simple: I want to feel good.
In my life, I’m only misunderstood.
(I put back up a bunch of old stuff, why not, right? If only I didn’t try to hide parts of my writing…)
Even the oddest
flowers can flourish.
No sowing.
At first, just a seed
blowing when it falls
into a driveway crack,
and dormant instinct
roots foundation through
the black tar and gravel
until the magic of a spring
environment rains
light-food and nutrient-water
to seep deep then
an unlikely flower pushes
with burgeoning strength
through paved black-top.
Resiliency from infancy.
That’s me.
I WILL myself…some day…to travel like I used to, relying on no one but myself! Ok, well, at least to places like Chicago, a place I know so well.
(Three months of rehabilitation just off Lake Shore Drive at fourteen years old, The Museum of Science and Industry’s been a staple since a kid, and every five months I have an appointment that’s right by School of the Art Institute of Chicago (where my daughter goes)…but…DAMN IT! I’ve traveled to Chicago alone my whole adult life!
How many times did I drive all by myself from the Arizona desert to the Midwest cornfields, from a Colorado Valley to an Arizona Mountain, from a San Diego beach to family in Texas?
How far did I go? My van might know.
I need freedom from silent expectations, bites of resentment, and voiceless screams. I want to escape being ignored as an acceptable way of living.
Hours pass by so slow as I wait for…my chance. The next time a friend says let’s talk, I won’t get scared and avoid the call!
A dragonfly’s wings fan subtle heat on my shoulder, and as if through a microphone-hand my tiny friend yells:
“ANSWER! You silly wench! No more bricks in the wall! You’re no longer a teenager! You’re an ADULT.”
Some day I’ll get away…for now, I guess, I’ll just keep dreaming, and vicariously I’ll trigger myself happy watching from my home.
As an experience turns into a memory, the more heightened the emotional charge, the more vivid the movie of the moment so that our brains construct natural pathways of dealing with our world based upon our living perception of the meaning from our past experiences.
There should be a natural acceptance that it will never happen that way again.
I struggle with that, however, I’m just self-aware enough to see when I distort the picture with creative play warping the memory, then embracing it wholeheartedly, only to break my own heart.
I run. I hide. I bounce back wise.
One thing that I can’t abide is now currently what I hide, only today an epiphany realized…
I’m so cold inside despite being loved, and I just keep wondering why?
Will I ever again feel something resembling passion? Regularly mentally exhausted. Unfortunately not with him.
It hurt at first.
“FUCK ME!” Aloud, I actually burst.
I don’t know much about accepting change. But, a change happened. More than a caterpillar to a butterfly…
No, it’s more like a Frankenstein in my head that I created from past stories of broken hearts.
Do I kill it? Or do I love it?
It’s a fairy tale of lovely, in which ugly turns beautiful. I’ll take my dreams over reality. I want to be sweet.
I can make magic! Yes! Passion is within. I need no one thing for it to be…I want Passion to make me free. Now, that I can accept, close my eyes, visualize, a passionate soul to chase in the playground of my mind.
Just found this. So tickled!!!
Hopelessly Inappropriate Thoughts 