Want,  need, and beyond.  

I have to hear what is not being said, I have to see what is not being read. 

I have to let go, I have to hold on, 

I have to prove to myself I’m the one who is strong. 

I have to walk tall, I have to lay low,

I have to stay higher than the wings of a crow.

I yearn to hear what is not being said, I yearn to see what cannot be read

I yearn to be heard, I yearn to be held, 

I yearn to be a force to which you’re compelled

To yearn my soul, to yearn my spirit, 

To yearn for my presence in your every minute.

Actually what I want is self honesty,   truly, I want to just believe me

Trust in myself, doubt on the shelf,     

No longer believe the lies that fear tells

Trust in my dreams, doubts will diminish,  

Leaping heart first into life’s race’s to finish. 

I want to remember all that is real, I want to connect and understand what I feel. 

I want to transcend, with my soul make amends, 

And experience a love that is without any end.

the Tolerance of Crazy

“We are all a little crazy… it’s just what kind of crazy can you tolerate..”
This was a topic in a conversation I was blessed to have today…

It’s true.

We are all crazy. We all have our issues and baggage and common droppings of batshit that cover our crazies. I guess that is why I write. To eliminate the intensity of the ideas or the insistency of which my brain urges me to operate. Regardless of how much I write or talk or think about the overbearing thoughts in my brain, it still doesn’t relieve me of the moments when I just need to scream or cry or disappear. Those moments are as unpredictable as they are predictable. I have especially learned within the last couple of weeks just how vulnerable I am within the confines of my own cell, trying to break the bars. It feels as though I am reaching through the slats just close enough to make the key chain of freedom dangle, but not quite within full grasp. So as I watch it swaying I become hypnotized envisioning what that freedom looks like.

It looks like this….

The girl who sits behind the veil of her own shade and is welcomed at that nature and not forced to be in the light.

The girl who disappears behind the nightshade of her own shadows now steps into the light and never casts a shadow.

And still that girl will wax and wane and the world will sway with her song and maybe even attempt to hum along to her song.

Just a little bit of what freedom looks like.

Sometimes.

“Overall that is the epitome of what it means to be me, or in my company. While I sift through the definitions of what “is” and redefine what it means to “be,” I reflect and am reminded of my vulnerability. What is the tolerance level that equates and vibrates with my personal mental tyranny? ……. “

sometimes all times

my head inside, it twitches it glitches
it tosses and turns and it becomes its own snitcher
it tells on me and what not to do
it shows me that i am a fool
proof in my existence in my every day being
that what i do is i walk around and i really am never seeing
i can’t feel i can’t touch i can’t taste i can’t smell
wondering why i am here, is this my own personal hell
everyday strapped with my own set of chains
packing and unpacking
filling and unfilling drains
draining myself as low as i will go
not enough for a siphon
to suck up
so i blow
it all over the world for everyone to “enjoy”
where my life becomes a game like their own personal toy
we watch it and we play with it and we let it unfold
we fold it back up
and we make it our own                                                                                                                 into our own mold
we become artists
casting ceramic casts
hoping that we come back through the pain of our pasts
and i say that with multiples
and multiple eases
because of all the lives that i have lived
none of them have brought pleasing
andi it’s all thank yous and pleases
and no thank yous and jesus
why did i get to this place where i am at
where my life and my soul has become your welcoming mat
welcome no more
i took the mat out
threw it over the fence, fact
because of the cat with its rat
ripping the head off and throwing it down
for me to walk upon when i come back to town
so metaphorically, it is real what i say
what i tell you right now in this very day
that it is going quite fine
even though i’m quite split
and some days, most, i really feel like shit

Insult to Injury

there are certain words you just don’t say

there are certain games that you just dont play

but when i say you i mean me

and the insult to injury continues, ensues, all casually

how do you recover from blatant disregard

how do you regain love into a slaughtered heart

will you, i mean,

and when i say you, i mean me,

and the insult to injury continues peruses, subtly

it is crazy to me that this is the belief

it is absurd to me to think this is relief

when i say me i mean me but why not you

and the insult to injury continues, second naturedly

who does that to someone you care about

who thinks that about someone you can’t live without

when i say who i mean me but also you

and the insult to injury stings, opening wounds liberally

most would agree if they saw it all

most might see the story so tall

and by they i mean social society

and the insult to injury stacks opinions digitally

does it all pan out and make sense to you

does it seem just a little bit off from my view

and by you i mean you, the real true you

and the insult to injury projects new avenues

second to numb

I haven’t slept much.
My mind seems to overindulge in the hyper analytics .
It appears as though I am my own worst critic.
I don’t have any trust.
The image that was first drawn became smudged out by reality.
never before had there been such heart striking fatality.
The future is stuck.
Struck down and held low in despair
Struggling for breath in loves thick and suffering air
Much too deep of a cut.
No bandaids will hold this compounding fracture
no longer can it all save face and straight stature
No longer whatever it was.
I’ve become an advocate of Stoicism for sanity , a binding pressure to create a custom built identity
Crumbling from shock’s touch.
Tremors of half way thoughts and troubling perspectives
Questioning the quest and the pursuit of objectives
Reclamation is a must.
I’m trying not to be intimidated by myself to be me, allowing a freedom that will course its mark eventually.
I have become increasingly numb.

our wind

i prayed with the wind today.
i lit some sage and prayed in each direction to our earth and our people in our compass of the winds.
i offered connection to each direction of our hearts and that we are able to see that we are all on this space, together.
i walked with the wind today.
i stepped over and through the lichen and sage.
stepped over the homes of those that dwell underfoot.
i stopped ever so often just observing the surroundings that the earth so selflessly has provided its body to us to habitat.
i cried with the wind today.
i asked it so desperately if i am ultimately alone, is my daughter with me, is god with me. my tears dripped as readily as the needles fell off the pines, dropping onto the wet ground previously showered by the earth and now me.
i searched the trees and the grass with the wind today.
my eyes shifted for avenues of life, light, and a path to take, just as the wind shifts with each pocket of air. it takes flight in its own direction, yet still has a course to move through, in and out.
i realized i was the wind today.
all over and yet in one space. touching all that has come before me and all that will surpass me. weaving in and out of time and reaching across the lands, in a search, to create a movement. to feel, to be the feeling.
i held my soul with the wind today.
i was carried away and remained grounded. i saw that the complexity is only the perspective we allow it to be. the simplicity and impact of the wind indicating that we are all instinctually animals and intuitively operate to survive on the grounds that we are all a part of.
i gave myself to the wind today.
it flew and danced and twirled in front, behind, to each side and through me. i let it spin me and guide my minds eye to seek, finding that i may not need to seek, as it is all within me, within us. the only guide needed is love and like the wind, it can go anywhere

sandman

the sandman waits patiently, watches while i weep
not the sand but the salt water puts me to sleep.
my husband gently whispers,
“i’m sorry there is nothing i can do
to take the pain away from you.”
each breath i draw brings piercing in the chest
icy cold, followed by pangs of remembrance
my heart, it gently whispers,
“all of the things, wishing what could have been
now have to be done all within.”
the sandman weeps with me along side my bed
putting away his satchel and catching my tears instead.
the sandman, he gently whispers,
“i’ll collect this outpouring of love you drip
and steer your heart into her drift.”