ohanthem

My skin started to bleed on your birthday & to this date & beyond no one will ever be able to unravel our codex, our spiritual DNA, the knotted red string that so delicately holds our hearts together, beating in time to a lost reincarnation. & you visit me in my dreams with clear eyes & hands that can hold no matter how jagged I am. & I have been broken so much love, I no longer know where I end or begin but just the sight of you, the energetic frequence of you, puts me back together. My heart. My soul. Complete.

I wanted for the world to just stop there & then. I wanted to break the glass, in case of emergency, (this was an emergency) & jump out onto the asphalt - my knees skinned & bloody from the impact of gravel on something so soft I still... Hear your voices when I should be thinking of better things like the fact that his arms cradle hard when I need it, barely there like a whisper, a sigh, when we move into the places where I cannot stand to be touched. Forceful & yet relenting he does not judge these awkward angles that are hard to fit into, hard to hold. He enourages me in my howling, my pain, my exorcisims all brought t

Inspiration comes sporadically & as children we collect fingerprints - the fractured identity of our parents. We inherit pain, loss, bitterness all through our DNA. (I just wanted you to see me). & I'm trapped in the fear now, in the walls we build to keep us saftely separate from those who would hold us when we shake. (Can you see me?) It's hard trying to erase so much of yourself, parts of you that aren't even you to begin with. Nail marks on a closed casket lid. A yawn that turns into a perpetual scream. You can't hold that which does not wish to be held. You can't see that which does not wish to be seen.

The winter solstice comes at twelve degrees & my eyes dazzle with bright lights lost in the darkness of night. With an itch like this you’re driven to distraction & prince charming doesn’t come riding in on a white horse. Prince charming tastes like death & he brings the lightning with him. The kind that breaks you open & causes you to scramble around constantly searching for the broken parts of yourself that were scattered to the wind in the ensuing melee. A fog settles on the horizon & the last gasp is sweet & full of pain & joy all muddled together in a masochistic crescendo. The oracle talks about death

The constant desire To touch the Button that says: “Do not touch.”

The itch came and settled under my skin two weeks ago. It arrived like a whisper – no discernable evidence that it was there, aside from a quiet, low feeling of unease. I felt rattled for a few days as I walked the house, remembering each room as I went; Laurie’s bedroom: pink walls, white carpet, family living room: cracked leather sofa, broken vase, kitchen: happy, yellow walls, smell of sour milk from the bowl of cereal that was still sitting on the table. It had been there for two weeks and despite the smell, I couldn’t bring myself to throw it out or tidy it up. The itch set my teeth on edge. The advice for an itch is

Emotions Irresistible scabs we pick until they bleed.

Bloody smile, grinning deep as I crack open his rib cage & cradle that beating heart in my hands like a bright red scream. Relax precious, this won't hurt as badly as the others would have you believe. It all boils down to this, love is - An act of butchery & a real-life game of operation. Who can secure the vital organ first before total body failure sets in?