Pretty Places & People.

Back in the old city with the crowded buildings seeming endlessly cold. We sat across from each other at the table. My head propped, empty glass in hand & he talked & talked & I wasn't listening to a single thing. Instead watching the way his mouth formed the words. & I asked him when he feels the most alive but he didn't know.

& then one morning I woke up to light pouring in my window, the snow was melting so that it flowed in streams from the trees, back where it came from. Winter was over & at night I would rather dream alone in my bed. The next afternoon we stretched lazily in the breeze after running as fast as we could through groups of people & counted the tawny rabbits hiding in the bushes, gathered feathers & twigs to put in neat vases back home.

The hours go forward quickly & soon we are out of our cases on display, smiling, laughing, perfect light for the perfect photo op, all legs & teeth & hair & wit & charm & bad music & secrets whispered in ears, girls screaming, eyes drilling, but he grabs my face while telling me. . .

& now I've slept long enough to stay up the next month, I've spent all my money so everything is free. Buds are sprouting through the ground. I fall, I break, I grow, I believe in something that is pulling me each & every day to some indefinite destination. Who knows when I'll arrive.

Short Short Short.

I watched a young man sleeping on a train. & I wasn't wondering what he was dreaming, instead I just imagined what he looks like having sex. I practiced my french and minded my manners.

A city of smog & music & mystery & everyone together, but not really. I watched a man jump from a building to his death & now the building doesn't seem so high. That night I woke up from a dream laughing & I tried to explain to him that it really wasn't that funny.

I made a kite by tying a paper bag to a string. & when the wind picked up I let go. Even as it drifted away it wasn't free. Toujours! Toujours! I try to stay awake forever but I end up hating myself in the morning.

I dreamt of sunshine & seashores & trails of pearls. Woke up not clammy or anxious for once. I found some hidden treasures, they are my sparkly shiny secrets. I've not been able to cry in days even though I am sad. His skin was cold & I was too young to be his rain forest. Will I have to say goodbye soon?

A pitter pat in her ballet flat- she licked her lips like a tiger striped cat. She loved everything & because of this she was never free.

None of this will make sense.

My Brain Don't Stop For Nothing.

Some nights, I have dreams that I'm being yelled at. In my face & I can't get a word in. Telling me all awful untrue things about myself. & I wake up angry. I have dreams that come true. I wake up and I'm still dreaming. Pictures unfold infront of my eyes in my dark room. & I scream & scream & scream. I wake the mother fucking world up with my screams. Fucking world.

Sometimes people make me lonely. But not for other people.

Dirt, Dirty, Dirty Birdy.

This feeling of dirt doesn’t define me. It’s not the whole of who I am. It’s just the thing I’m dealing with right now. Even though I hate feeling like dirt, I’m allowed to hate it as much as I want. This feeling of dirt doesn’t define me. It’s not the whole of who I am. It’s just the thing I’m dealing with right now. Even though I hate feeling like dirt, I’m allowed to hate it as much as I want. This feeling of dirt doesn’t define me. It’s not the whole of who I am. It’s just the thing I’m dealing with right now. Even though I hate feeling like dirt, I’m allowed to hate it as much as I want. This feeling of dirt doesn’t define me. It’s not the whole of who I am. It’s just the thing I’m dealing with right now. Even though I hate feeling like dirt, I’m allowed to hate it as much as I want. This feeling of dirt doesn’t define me. It’s not the whole of who I am. It’s just the thing I’m dealing with right now. Even though I hate feeling like dirt, I’m allowed to hate it as much as I want. This feeling of dirt doesn’t define me. It’s not the whole of who I am. It’s just the thing I’m dealing with right now. Even though I hate feeling like dirt, I’m allowed to hate it as much as I want. This feeling of dirt doesn’t define me. It’s not the whole of who I am. It’s just the thing I’m dealing with right now. Even though I hate feeling like dirt, I’m allowed to hate it as much as I want. This feeling of dirt doesn’t define me. It’s not the whole of who I am. It’s just the thing I’m dealing with right now. Even though I hate feeling like dirt, I’m allowed to hate it as much as I want.

Giving myself advice.

Hey there honey bee, you are a lover of words you should write a book. Don't lay around on your days off in a dark room listening to The Smiths on a loop. Listen to some Motown on vinyl & move your feet. It's all about feeling good. Understood? Start building yourself an Eartship. You know you want to. You know it's all you've dreamt about for the past week. Don't let people make you feel like less of a person. Just try your best. It's the advice loving parents give to children. & it makes sense. Just do what makes sense.

Boop Beep.

I like pretty little Norma Jean.

Wild.

Hunger strike, hunger strike, hunger strike.
Practice my french, practice my french, practice my french.
Be perfect, be perfect, be perfect, be perfect, be perfect.
Cracked lips, cracked lips, cracked lips.
Dark circles, around my wrists.
around my eyes.

I met Rhythem, & she was indeed a dancer.

Salutations.

I'm pretty sure a monster lives in me. & it takes over sometimes. I feel bad when it comes out & shows it's self to the one I love. But he takes it in stride. & he doesn't judge me. He understands. I don't understand how I can be so loved unconditionally by someone who isn't my flesh & blood. I love him more than my flesh & blood.

Il est de ma famille.

When I was a little girl I would walk to the grade school house in the mornings, & I'd walk home in the afternoons. On certain days I would have two cases in both hands, one hand holding a viola and the other hand holding a saxophone. & I was the happiest, with both of my loves in my hand. & they were there waiting for my little kid hands to bring them to life. I miss my first loves.

Delicate

Nothing is feeling real anymore except for the nightmares. & then I wake up & they're not real.

I want to cut all my hair off, I want to dress like a boy, I want to be the exact opposite of me. I want to be someone else, please. No one seems real. There is such a turn over in my life. I cut out people that I didn't believe were good for me. I want to be off the grid. I want alone time.

I want to bury myself in the cool ground & sleep for a couple of light years. & claw my way out when the world has changed.
I wanted to send out messages to all my phone contacts asking if they were real, so I could see if they would tell me the truth.

Instead I hit delete. Delete. Delete. DELETE. DELETE. Delete.

& I work very hard at appearing fearless & strong. But I'm beginning to believe that some people aren't just cut out for this earth. By some people, I mean me.

Hats on.

Face to skin. Kisses behind the ears. Laughing until early hours. Laughing at all hours. Old love. Feels like new love. Worries. When it's time to leave, I always fear it will be the last time since life can be short. Which makes our time even better. I am lucky. & he wears suspenders.

Cat hat = 87 cent clearance
The comedy = priceless

Zebras.

I finished a book today that made me cry & cry & cry & my nose started bleeding. & appreciate my dog more than I ever thought I could. I'm very scared of what's to come. I've acted out on my fears. I clawed at my fears, & my fears turned to skin.

The Light is Going Out.

I know a girl who used to light herself on fire. I know a woman who stuck it to the man. I know a girl who punched a grown man in the face. I know a girl who walks on tip-toes by trade. I know a girl who makes it feel worthwhile. I know a girl who took down a troll. & I know a girl who's body is shutting down.


I have dreams where I will yell at everyone. Telling them how stupid they are, & that they have no backbones. That they're living in a world of shit they've created. That it's bullshit. BULLSHIT. I call it out. I string it out. I'm strung out. & they just hold their wine glasses & twirl their pearl necklaces. & throw their heads back in fake laughter that I can't hear. & they can't hear me either.

Back to the drawing board.

Destroyer.

We climbed through an open window like thieves. Landed with a thud. The house was empty. & instead of feeling welcome & pleased, I felt forgotten & alone. I destroyed a perfectly innocent cookie. I crushed it in my hand & I jammed most of it in my mouth until I wanted to throw it up. I threw folded cloth around & yelled "Why do I try to be perfect & they love me less, & the fucked up low life they care for more!" I kept throwing things, & picking up more things & throwing them, & I yelled "I hate this world, I really hate it! It's full of living trolls, & the worst of tramps, & thieving thieves!" & I stopped throwing, I sat & cried, the first real desperate crying I've done in a long while. Hopeless tears. & all he could do was hug me & tell me it was okay, & the world wasn't all bad. & I made a river on his shoulder, & said "Thank you for talking to me like I'm real." & then we cleaned up my path of destruction with no words left.

One day I'll be free.

Looking into that horses eyes I believed everything I have ever seen or read about talking horses. From C.S. Lewis, down to Mr. Ed. I believe she can see right through you on any given day. I admire her stature. The opposite of a beast.



Every morning I leave my dreams on my pillow. The bad & the good.

Watch your step, clench your teeth.

Ever since the accident I've been having terrible dreams. I can't open my mouth, my teeth clench, I have no control over this. My teeth grind back and forth & sometimes they break. & I keep them. I try to pry my mouth open with my hands & it helps sometimes. When my teeth are in my hands they have little black holes. I suppose those are cavities. I've never had one before, & this scares me. I've been putting off going to the dentist since the dreams have started. I'm afraid it's all true. I'm afraid I really have started grinding my teeth, & maybe there are black holes where I can't see it.

& maybe that's the same with life. Big black holes everywhere, that you can't see, sucking people up & away & they'll never see the light of day, again.



I woke up one evening & yelled "I'm dying, I'm dying! Do you see it?! I feel it!" & he said "Such a wild bird! You can't be dying with all of that life in you." & that's when a tears started streaming. & who knew that wild birds could cry.

My Little World.

I come home everyday & unload pockets full of colorful scrap post-its. They're filled with things that make my mind sad. Sometimes I crumble them into little balls and leave them places. Little worry gardens that go unnoticed. My neck is sore because I'm failing to see all the sides.

I'll wash my hair over a sink, so I can watch closely when the hidden worries flow down the drain.

Someone pointed to a picture & said "This looks just like you!" It was a picture of a fawn. Could they see my insides?

To thine ownself be true.

Everyday there are moments in my life that I consider safe moments, and unsafe moments. Today felt like a lot of unsafe moments. I just wanted to be home cocooned in my blanket. I slept in front of an open window last night. I woke up with the air on my face & it smelled like it was going to rain. I was safe. I had to force myself to get ready for work & once there I generally felt like I was in the way of all humanity. I was unsafe. I did ligthen up after a few hours & began to relax after I kept getting several compliments from customers & staff. I am home safe now, & will wrap myself in a blanket cocoon & nap. Maybe I'll become a butterfly. I really wish I could be that kid again, the one that dressed up like a koala bear everywhere she went. I guess since I can't, I'll just go to a punk rock show later.



I read in a book today that after you die your body becomes significantly lighter than it used to be. It said that that is the soul leaving your body. I think my soul may be pretty heavy.

Boyfriend.

He was at my door step with a handful of flowers all tied in a pretty bow. "I told the lady to make me something beautiful, & if she could add as much yellow as possible." & that's how it all started again. Head in the clouds. Sunglasses that make everything look like a faded polaroid. The pretty boys of the world will be let down today, I will no longer be looking their way.

Yellow light. Yellow light. Yellow light. Pink light. I just wanted to get home as fast as I could. & now I'm here.

Don't leave it lying.

Walking on tip-toes, always spilling my milk. Trying not to cry over it. Everything is tip-top when you write it in yellow ink. Although somedays it's hard to get up when your stomach is heavy with rocks. Wore all my shoes out trying to follow the right path. Pale, paler, & paler. Dark, darker, circles. Nothing is heavier than compassion. But this is about letting go.