Little Pill

My mind no longer feels like it has a weight pressing down on it. A slowness thickening it. A constant heaviness like being pulled under water. Caught in quick sand. Mired in the swamps of my own feeling. Slogging just to make it out of bed every day. Giving up after only making it a few feet. Inertia. Unmoving. Stopped.

I feel lighter in thought and spirit. I am not different but simply a slowly unfettering version of myself. I no longer feel like I am drowning in clear air. My lungs aren't filled with sand and my limbs actually move as through clouds instead of mud. I am not pulling heavy chains everywhere I go. I have movement and momentum once more. I go forward.

Things are not easy but they are better.
I think this is a good thing.

Unwanted Gifts

I thought I was giving you so many things. That I had so many things to offer you.

My body. My heart. My mind. My love. My poetry. My emotions. My gentle caresses. My adoration. My help. My kisses. My sex. My longing. My quickening heartbeat. My gentle murmurs. My long caresses. My goofy laugh. My silly smile. My dancing mania. My want. My stories. My gazing deep into your eyes. My senses all clouded with you. My heat. My magic. My softness. My emergency booze. My stacks of books. My missing you when you are not here.

I thought I had so much to give you but jewels turned paste and my eyes died as the sunlight slipped behind the mountains. I only have tears to give you now and deep wishes for everything to just be better. The waves crashed into me nearly knocking me down. I came here to drown in your sharp words and that salty cold ocean. I will never come up for air.

Queen of Wrong

I am wrong. I live upon a mountain of wrongness. Exist clinging to cliffs of wrongness. In a state of constant wrong. I am buried in wrong.

I was born wrong to the wrong sorts of people on the wrong side of the tracks. I talk wrong. I dress wrong. I walk wrong. I think wrong. I lust wrong and I hate wrong. I am wrong in the eyes of lovers and enemies. I taste all wrong. I do only wrong. I read the wrong books. I walk the wrong path. I worry wrong. I suffer wrongly. I come from the wrong town. I do the wrong things. I take the wrong corners and I cling to wrongness in your eyes. I am never right.

I am in a kingdom of wrongness. I am a Queen of wrong. I impale my self on my own spikes of wrongness on tall walls built of the wrong bricks. My eyes are wrong. My skin is wrong. I have the wrong bones in the wrong body. I am screaming wrong at the top of my lungs and slip from those wrong spires. I am wrong in the face of the wrong gods and I love only in wrongness.

And when its all over I will close my eyes the wrong way and cry the wrong tears.

An Incantation at Midnight

As below so above.

I want to love but only if that love is returned. My heart is made of red glass and shatters so very easy. I ask you to protect it. Let me move unfettered and with strength. I'm still that little girl. So sure that I am unlovable and thus unworthy of love. We're hiding under the blankets our grandmother made... waiting... just like we have through all time.

As above so below.

Blood of my blood. Let this be woven with this strand of hair. Yellow for attraction, beauty. Vanilla for peace. Amber for sex. Roses for love. This needle to pin it all in place. Come of your own free will but don't forget me. So mote it be.

You need a red candle. You burn too bright with erotic passions and darkness nestled below your eyes. Pink is too soft for you. You are hardness. Violence. Self-inflicted pain. The hands I reach for and the brow I smooth. Scathach, protect me.

Tonight I bleed; big thick garnet drops down my thigh. I bleed for you. I bleed for me. Dip the blade in whiskey. Whisper to the delicate moans. Tongue to tooth to lips. I drift back to the mainline of the universe. The blood cross over my heart. Make me your target. Let me take all from you and give all back. I spin. I feel. I am still here.  Blood in my eyes, all caught in my lashes. Drink me down. O, Apache drink me down.

Brigid, protect us, your humble lovers and poets. We ride wild horses for you and bless white bulls. We are in the trees. We are in the ocean. I am glass, I reflect only you. Goddess, I reflect you in heart and blood and flesh and rage and love and power and calm.

Come on home and find these arms open to you.
So mote it be.

The Witch You Could Not Burn

I am surrounded by hard men and soft women. And all of them beautiful.

I am talented with sex and excessive drinking.

I never give mercy, I touch softly, I feel everything in the face of mountain gods and wood nymphs.

Whirl to a beat. Sway to that thrum. Throw yourself about the floor to wild sounds pouring out of large speakers vibrating the room. The mass undulates, twists in sweat and flailing limbs. They take us down in that dark room. We hold each other close, drunk on whiskey and secret adventures. We are running through dark streets, violet light tinging the sky. So soft those delicious curves under my hands. So smooth this milky skin, delicate feet and small fingers lacing into the wrought headboard. Cry my name.

Darkly, your head in your hands. Anger and pain rippling down your muscles. So taunt. "I just want to be happy again." My heart breaks. I try to make it better but I push too hard. Try too forcefully to make it right and just frustrate you. Can I make it right? That part of me that wants to save the world tries. I just want to pull all the hurt from you into myself and carry it away. This is something like love, but it is one sided. I find your body and soul so very beautiful, drawing me in. Quick sense, quick movements, powerful, violent, a wounded sensibility. I smooth your hair back and touch your face. Kiss at the furrowed place just above your eye.

I am both savior and monster. Lilith flew off to the land of demons and she is my mother. I devour and give pieces of myself back; little sugared cubes falling from between my legs on gossamer wetness. I can save the world in my kindness or I can burn it down in my anger. Furies are my sisters. Beauty in the inky darkness. Those forms coming to frighten me; or make me one of them. Whiskey and blood are my altar, the Goddess forms above me. In the white moonlight, I know the truth. I see the universe split and hunger for love and sex and fast drugs. I want to wash my limbs in the ocean, find the way through the trees, howl to the stars pounding down the green fields banged on with a million points of light.

Come and follow my witchy ways. You never know where they might lead.

Apache

Open your fucking eyes.