Untitled: mood hopeful and joyful and a little bit hungover

This little spot is the earth where our feet dance and tread and stir the mud and the sky is so blue that we cannot dream of any other thing in its place and our hearts are so pure and young and beating to their very last in this dome of starlight and lovely birdsong a sweet sweet garden of things to taste and try and a sweet sweet life of pain in paradise hold onto me my dear holding on to you hold out your hands I'll be with you soon oh don't swoon oh don't start we'll never stop I promise my promises were never worth very much anyway just a thing to say to the wind to the wind who is my god my goddess my lovely lovely shrine is built in my heart I have no hearth but if I did I'd welcome you to it and I'd sit down by the fire and look at it dance in your eyes nothing has ever been sweeter to me than the breath of another the breath of a lover the breath that stirs like a gentle wind in the garden oh let us go and walk together, let us go and talk together let us go and be and be still and be unending patterns of things it doesn't matter who you are and who I am we are just masks the universe wears because the universe is very clever and loves to play games with itself because it is very lonely to be everything and to be the play of light on darkness and the play of darkness along the borders of light and it is very lonely to sing a song alone in the emptiness so she put her mind to work and she made us all out of herself inside herself and here we are wondering at the big open spaces and we do the same thing and I love you because I love me and because you and I are she who made us he who made us it doesn't matter its just a mask that matter wears for a while we're spinning little tornados of energy and isn't that lovely like the bath water draining out of the tub and oh my dear don't hold your breath for so long just take the plunge take the chance take the risk the dancing is fine and the water is warm and the beat in our hearts lasts only so long so strike up the band and sing us a song your voice is beautiful but more than that I will always love your eyes sing hallelujah to them and sing the mountains down from their lofty seats and sing the clouds up into the sky and sing of your eyes I will weave a dense web of words to capture their energy draw them, paint them, shine them bind them hold them, oh my darling oh my dear my danger my heart my heat my light my love my life upwards shoots let us float on up into the air, let us stop the pain for now let us be merry let us sing how beautiful the plains and the forests and the mountains and the oceans and the jungles and the deserts and the canyons and all the beasts that crawl upon them and swim in them and fly over them and you and I are beasts too, and we are also beautiful and this night will never end and this day will never end and we can hold on to each other forever and never ever need to part ways, but let us dance in the dark under the stars one last time, one last slow dance together breath to breath eye to eye heart to heart thigh to thigh and let us become one again when we die.

What strange clay, what soft hands, what soft lips, what marvelous heart

We become our words. We become the thing that shapes our words. What kind of words leave your lips? What kind of thoughts leave you? Is it poison or salve? Do you get hurt more and more as you speak? Harsh words cut our own lips as we speak them. If you were to cut me down you would only cut yourself down. If you were to build me up you would build yourself up. If you were to build yourself up you would build me up. Yes we must say what is in our hearts, but we are the hands that shape the pot already spinning along the wheel. We find ourselves in the middle of this act of creation. We find ourselves covered in clay, hands slick and sticky as if covered in blood, and the clay slips beneath our fingers as it spins in a circle. What kind of heart, what kind of pot are you building? What kind of thing are you becoming?

Are you happy with your pot? It is a shame that one cannot stop the wheel. But you can know the parts of your pot that you are happy with and you can refine them, encourage them. So my dears, let me say that I love your pots. Let me say that I am lucky to behold them. Let me say that I am grateful for the time that I have been blessed with. Let me say that I am grateful to have my pot. Let me say that I think both of our pots look beautiful together. Bless you. Thank you. 

Written 4/7/15, same reason as last post

Fire, thunder, big earthquake

You’re the one I cannot shake

Fearing that I’m not awake

Slap me kiss me fuck me feel me. 

Wake me take me break me make me. 

Written 6/5/16, published because you'll never read it

Every night before I go to sleep I try to scrape myself clean, on the inside, where my heart used to be, before I ripped it out and told you to go, I drag bags of broken glass through my veins, I pull them on a strong thin thread that I weave through my veins with a needle, you need to make sure that you do this because hearts can grow back, they're tenacious little fuckers that come back when you're not looking and they can start breaking and bleeding at any moment. Mine usually tries to come back when I'm lying in a bed without you. Without my arms wrapped around you, it pumps blood all over my sheets, and I lie there and sob into my pillows and wish that I had scraped myself clean by looking at pictures of you, and remembering the fights and not the softness of your skin and the smell of your hair and the way you'd look up at me, catching me looking at you and say "what?" In that way that you say it that just causes my heart to gush blood like the Deepwater Horizon well gushed oil into the Gulf of Mexico. I'd like to cut my heart from my chest and put it in a chest at the bottom of the sea, but it would pump blood into the ocean whenever I go to sleep, running my hands over the empty spaces where you used to fit so snugly against me. Pumping blood by the barrel full into the abyss while I stare up at my ceiling thinking about how you'd put your retainers in, and how I love your laugh, and your brown doe eyes and long lashes, and how I wish you could wrap your arms and legs around me and I wrap my arms and legs around you, and how I wish we were different people that matched up differently, and how maybe then we could have stayed together and I wouldn't have had to cut my own heart out of my chest and thrown it into the ocean.