Off Switch

 Where is the off switch?

Have I lost it under my clothes?

Or is it tucked beneath my wavy hair? 

Only Goddess truly knows.

Where is the off switch?

The one that allows me to exhale,

The one that allows my smile to soften-

And allows my heart to be frail.

Where is the damn off switch?

I'm tired, and just need some rest.

My heart still aches, 

The sparkle in my eyes feels forced at times,

And I can barely catch my breath.

Where is the fucking off switch?

I'd peel back my skin, to feel calm...

To turn off all my thoughts for once, 

And silence my gifted charm.

I check behind my rib cage,

And grip up my beating heart...

Where is this fucking off switch?

I guess, I'll just stay On.

Weird Girl

 You're such a weird girl.

As you lay there- envisioning...

Your anxiety buzzes, bouncing off the walls of this cage you keep your soul in.

You're such a weird girl-

Aching, and heart breaking...

So depressed, and obsessed- but here you are.

You're such an odd one.

You're such a weird girl.

Laying there on your back- 

Slicing yourself vertically with your mind, to peel back the layers of your flesh, to simply relieve the pressure. 

So.

Much.

Pressure.

Each layer that peels back, you feel lighter, and as if you're one step closer to breathing again.

You weird ass girl.

It feels like you're on the precipice of breaking free from this... cocoon? 

You're such a weird, weird girl.

Tired

 I am tired,

My eyes are sunken in, my heart is exhausted, and my mind is filled with the sound of static. 

I am tired,

Of people.

Telling me I'm happy, explaining why I'm happy, or why I should be... I'm so damn tired.

I'm tired of the shallow conversations "Hi, how are you? How was your day?" 

I'm tired of the mundane routine. 

The "I know what to expect" 

I want the universe to shake it up- give me something new. Maybe this year for Christmas, I'll have a better view. A better vision... and maybe for once I'll feel rested, and rejuvenated.  

My love is tapped. 

But there is so much more to give...

This girl, just needs a lot more healing, and a little more rest- maybe more caffeine. 

Frustrating Comfortability Echoes

 Talking to these same four walls again,

The echo bounces back -

It is dark, dry, and desperate to be heard. 

Frustration builds- resentment creeps in,

Here we are again.

I am alone in my own mind,

Alone in my own soul...

Alone in my own sadness.

Broken- and fighting with every ounce left, to be strong.

I ache.

I want seemingly simple things, and feel as if they are not taken as seriously as I hope...

I feel this so comfortably,  uncomfortable pattern penetrating my soul again- and it is like a dagger through my lung... collapsing it, leaving me gasping for air...gripping at my chest,  as if my hand could magically patch it.

I hate the comfortable.

I am comfortably NUMB.

And it infuriates me.

I need CHANGE 

And I need it NOW...

Before all hope and fire for life is gone. 

I shall find the ember, and foster it back to a flame. I will fight. I will not give up, regardless of how messy- and how solitary the journey.

I will figure it the fuck out.

Sitting in Sadness

 Sadness is not something you can run from,

Not something you can hide from. 

Sadness can be all consuming,

Drowning, in a way.

Like you are suffocating- being smothered with grief. 

Being choked by loss.

Gasping for air, as your ankles are weighted down with doubt...

Hope escaping your lungs with each moment that passes. 

The pressure builds, and your eyes feel heavy-

Like they might explode with salty bursts of weakness... of expression.

Note- expression is not weakness.

But the world and its cruelty can make us feel fable and frail.

It's frightening. 

It's lonely.

But it can help us grow.

I. Am. Not.

 I.

Am.

Not.

Okay.

I feel it in my bones,

In my chest- in my soul.

The vibration is so high, 

So intense,

So overwhelming. 

I don't want to say it out loud,

Because then,

I have to 

Feel it.

See it.

Hear it.

Be it.

But...

I 

Am

Not

Okay.

I'd rather suffer in silence,

Than break in the spotlight -

And maybe that will be my demise.

I love that I hate it,

I'm shaking, and aching. 

I'm screaming at the top of my lungs,

But only inside. 

Clawing and kicking, 

And screaming- believing...

That maybe,

In the next moment,

It'll pass.

But then I'm found spiraling, 

On all of those wild things-

That make me and break me instead.

Empathy for The Abuser

 As a survivor of abuse,

I find myself, at time, not often,

But sometimes...

Checking in on my abuser, from afar.

Occasionally asking the mutual friend if anything is new with them,

Sometimes taking a glance at facebook...

And then I catch myself overwhelmed with empathy... re-playing the emotions of "They're not that bad... was I over-reacting? Did I make them look bad? I hope they're OK... I hope they've healed... I wonder if people still see me as a naive girl making up stories..."

But then it's like reality smacks me in the face.

What I went through was not OK.

The physical & emotional abuse and manipulation scarred me deep. Sure, I've done work to heal... yes, I'm thriving... but there is always a little seed of doubt that was planted, watered,  rooted, and grown by my abuser.

But then I think of her gentle eyes, and soft smile... the one she gave me when things were good... or when things got heated, then calmed down... and I wonder "Was it genuine? Could she really not control it?"

But then the facts hit me again.

Knife against throat. 

Choked until unconscious.

Thrown down stairs.

Hit in the face.

Stolen from.

Cut me off from friends and family.

Made "rules" that I had to live by.

Threatened self-harm as a way to control me.

Threatened harm, and death to me as a way to control me.

Cheated on and told it was my fault.

.

.

.

I was so lost.

So sad.

So thin.

So caught up. 

So sick.

So tired.

.

.

.

Will I ever lose the empathy I have for my abuser though? 

Ramblings on a Saturday

 I don't feel comfort in anything, anymore.

Except maybe this tiny orange oval pill.

But even that, in which I pretend to find comfort, 

Doesn't seem to take the edge off like it used to. 

Touch, for the most part, makes my insides squirm.

Affection, makes me nervous and uneasy.

I feel like I want to crawl out of my skin, and maybe then, life would be a breeze

If only for a moment. 

I don't know what it's like to sleep,

In my bed,

Without waking up with a clenched jaw.

It seems that only in foreign beds,  I get a wink of deep sleep.

My body hurts,

I feel the tension in each muscle, each joint... just trauma circulating not knowing where to go.

I am disgusted in the comfort I've found in my recent size... because I am not comfortable, even though I've allowed myself to sit here, instead of starve myself like I would have just a few short years ago. 

How

I 

Wish

I

Could

Starve.

Maybe then, I would feel more in control.

But I feel detached...

Tethering away from my body,

Floating away,

Dispersing as a "soul."

I ache.

I ache like a wretched hag.

One who is lonely and lost in the woods...

But finds peace in the nature and the liveliness of the wild animals around her.

I yearn.

For this limbo-like feeling to flee.

I just want to be wild again...

And when I get glimpses of it, I feel free.

How do I break free again? 

Without shattering my entire life...

Maybe ridding of all that is "my life" is the answer.

Maybe a clean slate,

Like asphalt after a warm summer rain...

So fresh, so warm, so grounding.

Let me be...

Free.

Deal with the Devil

 I had a glass of whiskey with the Devil.

She told me her secrets,

I promised to keep them,

Under one condition. 

She'd give me her heart,

In exchange for my silence,

And shower me in roses and lust until the night ended.

But you see in her world,

The night never ends.

The stars always shine, and the moon never sets.

So lust and roses became my norm,

While the rest of the world, lived blissfully in ignorance.

My romance with the Devil is a delicate treat,

Her skin soft as butter, and her lips honey sweet.

 Her body moves oceans, and ripples the tide.

Her moans sound like thunder on dark stormy nights.

Her ecstasy is the lightening- that surrounds the spark in my soul. 

I made a deal with the Devil, and I'll never let it go.

What is My Lesson?

 What is my lesson?

Why must I love those that struggle with the venom of addiction?
Why must my soul be torn, tattered, and tortured?
My love is all encompassing, and unconditional.
My heart, though bruised, continues to be given away by my own doing.

I dig deep, only to find scars that run deeper than this lifetime.
Losses that have molded my soul.
I am on the brink of a breakthrough, spiritually and emotionally, and it terrifies me.

What will this journey look like?
What will this lesson teach me?
Will my heart learn to thrive in the pain, or succumb to its grip?

Morning Memphis Meditation

 Woke up in a different state,

A different state of mind.

Crickets chirp, and roosters sing

A song of simple times.

Coffee fills my senses,

Overflowing with pure bliss.

Taking in this slower pace,

And matching breath with it.

Soul Search

 What am I doing?

Where am I going?

Who am I?

Cycles

Circles

Soul Search

Awake, Exhausted

 Awake.

Exhausted. 

Pondering why.

Why am I awake?

Why am I...

Wondering ?

Aching to rest my weary eyes.

And soothe my tired soul.

This simulation is overrated. 

My depression is muted. 

Clawing from the inside of my soul,

Begging and hoping to dance and smile without those serotonin producing pills.

But for now,

I shall bask in this manufactured happiness. 

Softening

Her eyes were adorned with dark circles...

She stared at them with disgust for years- but this morning was different.

This morning her grimace softened as she examined these dark circles that encased her sea foam green eyes.
Today, she saw beauty...
She saw strength.

She swore that her eyes were turning more blue with each passing day.

Today she witnessed her grit.
The fight to be, and to stay alive...
And that, was fucking beautiful.

Though tired, she was a warrior.
Her face softened into a smile, and her heart softened with understanding.

Her hand traced the imperfections on her face... then to her lips.
Oh, how those lips were drenched with unspoken words and secrets alike.

Her lips remembered the taste of travel, the taste of tears, and the taste of lovers.

There was something about her soul that ignited a magic within her... a fiery storm.

It was so easy for her to get lost in the nuances and idiosyncrasies of the exhilarating uncertainty.
Yet she loved every minute of it....

And though drenched in dark circles... her eyes whispered how they couldn't wait for their next glimpse of passion , adventure, lust, and love.
For their next glimpse of the experience we call "Life."

Yo-yo

 Pulling me in,

Pushing me out,

And when the times comes,

Yanking me back. 

A yo-yo.

A tango.

One that has made me dizzy.

One that I'm willing to cut the string.

Midnight Ramble

Intuition is the most beautifully dangerous thing.

Couple that with honesty,

And experience distaste.

Distaste is natural,

And respectable.

But so is brutal honesty.

Even when unprompted.

If honesty was only sung,

When prompted.

So much truth would yet to be uncovered.

Truth is not always painted in gold.

Sometimes it is slathered in pain.

Maybe that means all truth mustn't be spoken.

Mystery Misery

 She said there was a mystery about me,

That I was alluring, 

Like I should know...

Maybe I did.

Maybe I do.

Maybe that is what feeds my soul.

I feel the hunger for attention creeping it.

Keep telling me what I know deep down.

Keep feeding the sickness.

Winter Monsoon

 An anomaly.

February,

Laying on my living room floor.

Bare faced, no bra, and hair tangled from the whipping desert wind. 

Windows open.

The trees violently dancing...

Their favorite thing to do.

They don't do it enough. 

In the distance I hear sirens, 

It reminds me of the city at 2am after a late night of whiskey, drag queens, and lesbians in flannel... probably in the fall.

Parts of my bare skin exposed.

Toes, shoulders, neck, and face.

Chilled in a beautiful way.

Eyes sore from the realization of seemingly my only fear, after a silent, gut wrenching cry.

My sister in the other room, asleep on my bed. My former lover, and best friend holding me as I hyperventilate and shake. Honestly "best friend" doesn't even describe what either of these two women are to me. They are my family. They are my home. They are my heart and soul.

I try to not wake the one, while the other holds me through my pain. 

I cannot fathom losing anybody else this close to me. After the loss of my mom, I just... can't.  And THAT is my biggest fear. Losing these two other women... losing my baby brother, losing my dad... I literally just can't.  

To ever have to endure this pain again is unfathomable. So I cry, for the first time in my life, afraid of something...

And I simply let the night sky hold me, while the violent winter monsoon winds whip through my window and kiss me passionately. My tears fall like the heavy, dangerous rain.

It probably isn't even considered a monsoon anyway...

Drifting is a Wish

 Insomnia again,

My demise- stripping me from dream land...
A land of wildly beautiful freedom and peace.
I wish to drift,
Deeply,
Inhibitions stripped.

No Sleep

 Can't sleep.

All I see is your face. 

All I hear is your voice.

All I crave is your touch.

Your warm embrace, that reminded me that everything would be OK.

Your words of comfort when I was lost.

No words I read or hear, can fill this aching hole in my chest.

My heart seems missing.

I've tried to calm the deafening silence, to no avail. 

I grasp at air, trying to hold onto the sound of your voice...

While gasping for air, to feed my tattered, tired, traumatized lungs.

Heat physically manifests in my body as it tries to muster up the strength to carry on... moment by moment , day by day.

I have never known a heartache so strong. I have never felt an emptiness so deep... and yet, I've had the most fierce hunger for life and adventure, that I've ever had.

Guide me.

Please guide me.

Wondering and Horrified

 Sick.

So fucking sick.

Face in the toilet bowl, 

Puking my guts out... forcefully and willingly at the same time.

Wondering, 

"Why did I drink so much tequila?"

"Did I drink that much tequila?" 

Periodically laying on the cold, hard vinyl flooring that looks like dark wood.

My face hitting the sweats I wore the night before. Feeling, disgusted in myself.

I hadn't "drunk puked" in a while, it has definitely been over a year. Why tonight? 

Because it was my first night out since my mom took her own life? Maybe.

Because so many people asked me what I was out "celebrating" and I would simply say "life"?

Because almost all of them, except the silly drunk young men, would see that my eyes were empty and lost as I forced a smile? 

My friend bought me a thirty minute private dance from a stripper, whose real name is Cheyenne, and all we did was talk. I didn't give her details, but she kept telling me "whatever is going on in your life, it is all going to be OK. I can see it in your eyes. I can feel it in your soul." 

Was I that readable?

"I'm an empath" she said, then explaining what an empath was, like I didn't know. Little did she know I was one too, which is why my soul is  painstakingly shredded.

The stripclub closed, and I found myself talking with an older gentleman. I wish I remember his name. He looked like a William or a Charles. He was an emergency room doctor, who frequented the club five days a week, spending over $800/ week on the dancer I just had a therapy session with. We spoke about poetry, as I drunkenly slurred that I was a "poet by night." 

Fascinated he inquired about my favorite poet. 

"Poe" is always my answer.  Dark, mysterious and ill. I lust after his demons.  "Blake is one of my favorites," he smirked while shaking his head. He told me, in the kindest way, that I was foolish for adoring Poe, since he was an alcoholic with severe depression... but that was the glamor that I adored in Poe's work. The glamor of his pain.

I hope we meet again, doctor. 

Your soul was kind, and welcoming to my foolish adorations. 

Fast forward to my bathroom floor.

The cool, hard floor.

I was drunk, so damn drunk and so damn sick. 

When I finally felt good enough to lay down, I felt like somebody wrapped their arms tightly around me. Letting me know I was held... as I drifted into the worst nightmare of my life.

I wonder if that's how mom felt every day... I sure hope not. Fuck.

I miss her.

Vacation

 "It's like a vacation" she said, 

Her voice was a faint whisper in the night wind...
Creeping through my slightly open sliding glass door as I brushed my teeth, while I got lost in the emptiness in my eyes.
"It's like a vacation."
I saw her eyes in mine.
For just a moment.

Making myself snap back to reality, I spit in the sink, and spashed cold water on my face. 

My skin was more dry than usual, from the tears I wept but let no one see. 

I crawled into bed, and they started again.

The nightmares.

The visions.

My heart racing.

It was a long night, and thought I kept repeating her words "It's like a vacation" I couldn't seem to teleport myself there.

Not that night anyway.

Maybe someday. 

Shaken and Stirred

 Restless.

I slept for the first time since you've left last night, for a solid 5 hours or so...

Though my body was asleep, my mind was racing 

So, I woke up shaken.

Anxiety filling my chest.  Almost 30, and squeezing a teddy bear, like it could make everything alright.

Pretending it is you...

The waterworks start pouring again, from the vessels in which I captured your beauty...

And though you were undoubtedly gorgeous on the outside... your soul is so fucking radiant. I've never experienced a brighter, more loving soul. And I know your soul is going to live on. 

My emotions are mixed...stirred up

I have an overwhelming sense of grief... because there is this gigantic hole in my heart, where your life and love lived... I'm just trying to navigate how to replace it with your soul and the love I know your soul still gives.

I have moments of peace, because I know that your demons no longer have their claws in your back,  dragging you down... I know that you are now healing beautifully, and that is all I ever wanted for you.

I have moments of anxiety, when I realize I can never physically touch you again... you gave the best hugs. . You held me so close, and played with my hair...

And to never hear your voice again, telling me how proud you were of me, and how much you love me...or how I can't tell you in person how much I love you too. And how I'll never get to argue with you again about who loves who more (I still swear there is nothing like a daughter's love for her mother... but I also know, and hear you telling me, that there is also nothing like a mother's love for her daughter).

Though I am shaken, and my emotions are stirred... I know that you are safe now. Your soul is free now. All pain and anger.. anguish, and self-doubt is released. 

You are healing beautifully and gracefully... and I can't wait until we meet again Mom. I don't know what comes next, but I believe you will be there to help me transition when my time comes... and that our souls will be reunited in our next lifetime... and that in that lifetime, we will have learned the lessons we have needed to in this one to thrive... I can already see you dancing wild and free. 

Please help guide me.

Sometimes a mother's advice is all I want and need... so please drop me seeds of wisdom and guidance. 

Mom, I promise to live twice as hard for you. You have made me so strong, and taught me resilience.  You taught me love, and forgiveness. You taught me patience and grace. You taught me the importance of dancing like nobody's watching. You taught me to try new things. You taught me my worth. You taught me your famous Alfredo recipe (hehe, don't worry , I haven't forgotten it). You taught me so damn much.

I'm shaken and stirred,

But I will rise. I will rise in honor of you. I will blossom. I will bloom. I promise. For you. I love you endlessly. Forever.

January 4, 2021 +24 Hours

 What a day...

Where are my words? 

Lost to the wind, as my breath escapes my lips.

As my heart escapes my chest.

My eyes sore and tired...

Body feeling frail and weak.

Stomach in knots.

I woke up exactly 24 hours after you passed, after a few, restless hours of a nonexistent dream state. 

The time, cast on the TV, as if she is haunting me. As if you are haunting me... because you're lonely. 

And here I am , wide awake- keeping you company, while I'm left alone. 

The greatest love I've known in my life, stripped away.

So

Damn

Fast.

My words don't work, my head is so loud, but filled with the static of white noise...

Scratching at its walls- creating a symphony of pain and heartache. 

Unreal.

Surreal.

So

Damn

Real.

I promised you unconditional love, and unconditional love, you shall receive. 

All I ever wanted was to give you health, give you enough reason to live... give you love (but the healthy kind, none of that toxic shit).

Where are you? 

Where have you danced away to?

I keep grasping to feel you near me, but end up with fists full of empty air.

I forgive you.

I love you.

I love you so damn much.

Mom, I miss you.