| Clothes tastefully mismatched, in the summer dancing close to waves. Remember the years of adolescence, growing up in strange, old Santa Cruz... Californian, bohemian ~ broke was glamorous in those days. I was young and improvised well. Back then, chaos was known as adventure. And for battle, I never turned my gaze the other way. Now... approaching the ripe age of womanhood, my name and identity split further apart. Never in one place for too long... tell me, where is it that I belong? Do not let the armenian duduk fool you, or the drums with rings around its frame. We are the dancers and musicians of the night. It is our role to play the misfits that bedazzle and decieve. If you cannot play your part, you are cast out. For even a gypsy has a home in the caravan of her community. You rip to shreds the fortune of your tarot deck, no longer wish to seduce an audience with a serpentine dance... Then what are you good for, sitting arrogant? Too good for the liquor that keeps our bellies full and our beds warm. You sneer at the use of drugs, our laughing children kissing in the woods. Was there not a time once where you were what you judge as lost? Have you found yourself any more than we have? Saying no to every offer and merit that comes your way. If you are a queen then run back to your kingdom, what have you been doing caravaning with us rogues? We are feral, and we fuck and make love the same. We keep our eyes on you, and make sure you finish before we do. What can a knight do but save you? Or a King, but to take another mistress once he tires of you... You fell for the gypsy life that promised the intensity of being free. But I cannot force feed you, I cannot pack for you - when I come into your decorated room and tell you we are leaving again, heading back home. You want to leave without me, even though your kin are headed back that way. It will be different this time, you say. You want to do it alone. But you don't see, you have been. For ten years... you have been doing it alone. You have no family, no caravan, no performance anymore. You are headed back into the mouth of the carnival that once enchanted you. Back to a colorful town where lovers can be found swimming at night in the sea. Back to the homeless sages that whisper your future when you pass them by on the streets. To the woods and mountains of the West... to the graves of Natives, then Spaniards that lay here to rest. Maybe this time you will enjoy the proximity of the ordinary without demanding resonance from this plight. Gypsy princess, noble and destitute! Have you given up finally, on a gallant knight? |
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A storm hits the south, and from there we bear three days of rainfall.
Icy teardrops fall from the sky... the fire burns into the night. I lay awake unable to sleep here, despite the warmth and serenity of what I created. Sad embrace reveals the card. Everything I worked for, I must let go. Like an animal, I gaze at these walls and lament in how what was once a paradise now feels only like a cage. My anger fumes the fire... the strangers, sweet in temprament bask in how easily I ignite these flames. The heat swallows my emotions. Dries my tears, sucks the moisture into the vent that sends it back out into the rain. I have been dreaming of my master... I long to see his face. A girl of ten, with an amber necklace wrapped around her neck. I've been found again after fourteen years, but to what end? Now we rest in incubation, awaiting tomorrow which stretches endless, evasive and filled with uncertainty. I have accepted after so many years the traumas that have made a home into the webs of my mind. My nervous system dances in chaos, and bleeds my body into exhaustion. And in the dreams, my master calls to me... do not despair... that which you seek is what is seeking you. The circular motions of this ride, I like to gaze down at the expression that frames your eyes. They roll back intoxicated, entranced and devoured. Lips part breathless... this was me. You do not know what to do with this body that trembles, the intensity frightens you. But every woman longs to abandon herself in the throes of ecstasy. Aches for the hands of her lover to sink his fingers into the meat of her hips and press further down into him as he reaches the end of her birth canal. Without the thought of survival, we would continue this dance well into the night. But the appetite of a woman both amazes and frightens most men. In his abandon, he loses his seed into darkness, and feels his body weaken just as she awakens. Now, warmed and wet, does the instrument truly start to play, but at what hands of a sleepy composer? So in this celibacy, I speak to the sacred between my thighs, and coax her out of despair. That ecstasy is not dependent on another body to inhale her beauty and consume her flesh. That she is the well the sunlight fills, and with practice of breath and communion with the elements... the act of sex transcends beyond any written text or feverish imagination... One day... not so very long from now... I will crawl into you, and disappear.... When the physics of this body learns the alchemy of your vibration. I will mirror you... and disintegrate. We will become One once more, no longer will I seek you out in the flesh of another. Nor will I drink the sweat of melting need as you exude inside them heat. One day... this metamorphosis shall be complete. Wow... this woman is phenomenal. Stumbled on this video by accident and it was like watching through a looking glass at the recent events of my own life. Chronic Fatigue, Anxiety.... abandonment, rejection.... a leap of trust. Amazing. Bravery, true courage is in the honest truth. Not have to hide anything... to truly let go and love yourself, forgive yourself if you're weak and unable to care for yourself, without "loved ones" in your life judging you to "get back up, get better" And so you do, for them... not yourself. You do for a while until the energy runs out.... the fear that "if I'm not okay... the people in my life will leave me." And it happened several times before, I practiced that vulnerability, showed them my wounds and they ran away for whatever reason, it was too triggering or threatening to the stability of their own life. She talks about how we never really open ourselves up to one another, we all yearn for intimacy, but the shame of feeling rejected or judged makes us shut down and become inaccessible. That shell around the body quickly become a cage unbeknownst to themselves, have the key for unlocking. To put ourselves in the very real, blemished, vulnerable, shamed parts of ourselves, and show it for everyone wanting to get close. Children, family, spouse. Ultimately, the majority of everyone's pain, physical and emotional stems from a similar root. Fear of being unloved in our lowest state (behind the pretty mask, lay the ghastly sight of someone in shame) Fear of the inevitable abandoning, at rejecting the other's low state. Why? Only because it hits too close to home, the unresolved issues THEY have with their resistances toward love and compassion. But wow... this video.... blew my mind. the domain where lovers play, try... surrender. Promises are broken, and empty shells of humans remain. The fire's of destruction have to consume, and both fall between the rays. I sit here in a haze of ativan and cough syrup. I've become bedridden, all the money gone to rent. To give have to give this place up in two months.... all my efforts in vain. Last year at this time, I dance Zaar for this song below. My white dress barely there, clasped tight by a corset around my waist. With tribal marking across my face, I dance the song of warriors defeat. Of Lover's abide and screeching in last resort for their Maker to appear. My movements were raw, my nipples erect through the delicate white fabric. My body trembled as I lift my body off the ground, and neck back to meet the grace of the full moon illuminating a very near darkened room. I danced for the pain that lived inside of me. The longing of unrequited love. What I was seeking was my Maker, but thought of stranger kept exploiting my head. This strange man that I had met only days ago, now locked himself in his hole, instead of here amidst the crowd watching this dance. I wonder had he witnessed the intensity of the dance, the raw emotion that drew each woman in and repelled all men away... Would it have save us both so much misery down the line. How many events can take place in just one year. In just 365 nights, I have died again like I did when I first listened to this song. Turn my head the other way, when you come with lies to stay. You used me. Like a host, tender flesh for his prey. Like his father, you rape and plunder then run far far away. But cannot escape your own shadow, and like the plague you only darken the lives of those who love you. While Love is to give, and give more because one cannot help it. You come only to take, and when you realize cannot, like a thief vanish before mid-day. I use to wish for the same suffering you inflict to be given back to you. But now I realize... after watching this video... your very essence is suffering. You aren't damaged. You are Damage. You came here as a plague to teach people how to love themselves. So, thank you. Beauty... as far as the eyes can see...
when all I want, is for you to see me. Love. Connection. These expectations we put on our parents, our partners, our children... What if this hole is the aching need for something greater than anything this temporary world can give us? It's easier when alone. When you accustom yourself to your own routine of doing things, you learn how to provide for yourself. How to nourish yourself. How to show up. Then along comes someone else and your life now is no longer about you. You share your time, body, energy and space with them. You give and you take. And those expectations you thought you had dealt with start to arise again from the shadowy terranes of your unsatisfied mind. What you could give yourself, now you expect another to give you. Your time and energy are no longer solely for yourself. And resentment builds. Perhaps your loved ones are not as equipt to understanding you the way you desire, in the capacity and style you once gave yourself. And resentment seeps in between the space of your embrace. I always thought sex brings about deeper connection. But is sex also the reminder and the distraction from feeling complete within yourself? Sharing your energy with your spouse in this way, becomes almost the gateway for the reintroduction of all these wants and needs. This physical connection that parents, children and lovers have is unlike any other bond. You both adore them and detest them. You love them so deeply, and resent the attachment that causes only suffering. Who am I, without this person? Who am I with this person? When all you want is to disintegrate, how do you indulge in the act of total integration? What I wanted to be was your wife. A ring of our own veins wrapped around each other in familial devotion... Day falls into a crimson darkness, and I whisper for it to release. From these inner thighs a swelling turned to velvet tears, it did not conceive. I was your lover, your friend, your mother, your child... Did you hold me in that grace? My beauty now canvased and displayed for all to see. Beneath the naked breast of this girl, oh the scar runs deep. How many lives have we gone through? Accumulating karma like a debt with interest...
the physics of this world is not so different than all the others. We have come here to learn with gravity being our most visceral teacher. The past aggregates... do we ever heal from our wounds completely? Or will all scars fade on the fateful day the story of all these lives comes to a wrapping end? The wounding reappears in dreams, in nightmares, these unfinished stories. Seeking permanence in a world of transition, and to adapt, we embody a level of apathy we name as acceptance. But do we ever accept anything when the heart still burns a hole in our chest, felt only in the silence of complete solitude? You push through the psyche of another deep enough, new blood emerges. The delicate tissue of healing flesh rips apart again, and grasping the wound with pain we alleviate our suffering with more isolation. Superficial outings are bearable because they don't penetrate deep enough to hurt. The irony is in this, that each of us long for this depth of penetration, but with our own protective conditions that it must not hurt, past the threshold of what is considered bearable, comfortable. Those that seek a level of pain border along the lining of masochism, and each direction of opposing forces leads us back into the center of the maze. There is an intense indifference I mistook as acceptance for a time. A level of apathy that numbs the catastrophes of a storm. But deep beneath the waters of stillness, peace does not level out the undertow. Dig further more into the subterranean of human consciousness, that which existed before our genesis will have carved itself roots that do not bend at the plight of our debts. It must be ripped out, with ungodly strength that we alone may not possess. Each nerve ending severed into annihilation. Our humiliation written like sanskrit along our faces. Only then, perhaps after the devastation bears death can we start over... Looking into the eyes of a stranger and seeing a familiar story there. Ah, we've bit the lip once more. It's a debt I am paying, not a love making... how many more do I have to go? You drip, drip, drip....
between these thighs of wet and raw, inside the corridors of the dark crimson I sink my nails in and bring you closer. The black abyss beckons you. The cowards of death tremble in the corner I take none of it without consent. The rest is abide you, bending and writhing desire bent in the sweat of the crawling and all things human You never knew? We take each other deeper than carnal desire Fluids spilling, I want the raw, the visceral Fuck me into God, blood and tears and all, the syrup of your sex, yes. Fuck me into God again and again. You seek me to feel. I have been you before, in the transitory space that binds, we cling to the skin of one another to peel and fall. It is in the hours, that we remember each other's mortality. Pushing back and forth with screams of debauched regret I find myself beneath you again, as you claim the rest unconquered. With tears streaming down, I cry for you to stop but pull you still deeper. Your mouth covers my breast with hunger Have you found yet what you were looking for? Your essence bursts inside of me, as I stain my flesh with the rest of your longing. Be still inside of me, I beg you... I fear I might burn away for good this time. Day breaks over the pavilion. I awake to the sound of mandolins, the longing of your heart is a cry like none other. I have swam in the sea of my children's woes. An initiation of the most intimate kind, he welcomes you with tears of joy and bind. The cord has been cut and buried, and I breastfeed this new life despite the pain of emptiness birth brings. The pulse I once felt inside of me now rests beneath my breast. You look at me with all the innocence of beauty and presence. God is felt in the sweet sighs of this. The night you were conceived, we made love from dusk till dawn. Intertwined in each other, with a similar breath pulsating to give way to you. It is a lightening, the storm of Eros that becomes the prayer and plea. Please, bring that life back to me. Rivers of blood, the whisper runs from my heart down to his most secret space. And I hold you in my arms with utter abandon. Tell me, how can I hold myself back when my body becomes then your mandolin? Playing me without practice, our passion holds dominion over the study of right and wrong. My name and yours blend into one, and like a symphony of a thousand lives where we have wept our hello and goodbyes, you part from me in one final embrace. Flesh that once knew no perimeters between the agony of attachment and cruelty, I have succumbed myself into following the wrong God. Behind the veil of this passion exists only a bitter kind of end. Once the dream blurs the face of yours and mine, the storm of all we knew burns to ash these hearts that mend. I am left alone again, beneath these sheets in my vulnerability. Lover gone, only his essence remains inside of me. What memories unfurl, of our bodies sewn together by that longing to belong? Behold now! You are gone. I must fine Him again in the plea bargains of my breath. Where is the God that I have strived to find in the passion of another? I feel Him now in my aloneness, in the music, in the elements of all that has come to pass. I feel him in the cresencdo and ask for death in the most complete sense. I want only this, to die before I die. To allow the storm of you to vanquish the eternal me, and bring me once more back to that place of beauty. A fragile piece of thread that binds me to you. I tip toe along the banks of the Nile tinged with the colors of our shadow's past. You and me... wandering aimlessly through the stale halls of free and flow. You wait for me to fall from this height. Happiness is a burden amongst those plagued. Lovers would rather see tears of anguish than laughter, besotted by our compatibility in misery. We had nothing else in common. I watch the sun play off my skin, beads of sweat form and roll copiously down curves of flesh. I write like a person applies salve on a burn. If I inhale my prayers before sleeping, I dream of cursed affairs that have left me reckon. Men attacking me with knives, but in the end I leave them on the floor swimming in their own blood. Still, despite the victory of survival in my dreams, my fragile heart near breaks upon waking. Seeing you there in the murky halls after returning the rest of my baggage... with another woman behind you. Beauty abides her face not yet scathed. You would never scar her like you did me, despite caring for her so little. I went farther than anyone else has and will go with you before. Haunting you in the day, you come for vengeance at night. This war has carried on long enough, I no longer wish to fight. I withdraw my hand and fall from these wuthering heights. The air is thin here as I gasp to try and breathe... Had I known you were a phantom, I would have stayed clear from death. I wish to live and sew a memory into the etch and crevice of my mind, one of beauty instead of cruelty. God's children have all been tormented with the growing pains of ascension, you see, you have fallen. And mean to take all those close enough to you down. There is nothing there, and only those devoted to a deep sense of shame will remain in a grave as wretched as your own. Death is a very personal journey, perhaps you should embark on it alone. |
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