This Failing Night

I want to feel nothing.

I want anything but this inertia. This statis. This hiding in plain sight. There's an eye I'm trying to catch. To pin under my gaze. I lit my hair on fire. Ripped the pages from my journal. Wrote a list outlining you less attractive traits. But still love worms into my already riddled heart. So full of holes. Like Swiss cheese. This love is all I have to give. I grew it myself. Planted the seeds in the mud and waited. Nothing took root but I tried. I'm just not very good at it.

I want to feel something.

I want your hand in mine. I want your lips on mine. I want your body against mine. I want your words tangled in my own. I want to feel you out there thinking of me. Why do I do this to myself? I hear you. I hear you. I hear you shrinking and thinking and darkening on the edge of a bright day. I can't even trust pain and violence. It gives me up to the authorities and rakes me back against sharp little blue pills. I can't trust my words. They keep failing me when I need them most.

The Holy Wasted

I would stand at the cabin door watching the sun rise over the valley mountians. The tall golden grass stretching up the feilds to the tree line. There was coffee on the stove. Crickets jumping in the creeping sun, singing their 'come fuck me' song. The drowzy bees tumbling into the morning glories shading the windows. A fawn dog at my feet listening for approaching footsteps or rumbling motors. The creek rushed by with a constant white noise; the new sun filtering through the overhanging canopy of leaves to dapple down to the smooth peebles and darting fish.

I'm not there anymore. I'm here in this city and you are out there somewhere doing your best to ignore me. I see the night now like ink instead of pierced with a million trillion stars. It has its own wildness here. Bums in the alley, wild cats under the deck, broken bottles sparkling in the street lights. I feel you out there. Just tell me what you are thinking. I can feel it anyways but I need to know what it is.

Sometimes all this humanity is a little too much for me. All those emotions and thoughts beating against my brain. Sometimes I feel like a beetle trapped under the glass. I just want to go back. Maybe I stay here for you. Maybe you could come with me. See the reality of those places. Understand what made me this way. If you would just ask. Ask me where I came from. Ask who shaped me. Ask what they did to me. How I got here all those years ago. I want you to know but I feel like I talk too much when I get around you and you wish I would just shut up for a second. I have all these stories and no one to tell them to.

Seeking the Skin

It feels like my nerve endings are dancing on fire. It rages out of control around the edges of my skin. It tingles, it pricks, it seers. I convulse involuntary like a marionette with the strings cut.

These days drain me down. It's like someone plucked my batteries out and I'm slowly coming to a stop. Like molasses on a cold day. Underwater and trying to run. The inertia stealing the strength from my limbs until I collapse in a heap.

I reach out in need of you and find you at the door. Running your hands over my legs makes the nerves finally settle and sleep. They have been creating a storm for days. I haven't lived without pain for decades. Living is pain. But you hands moving ever so gently lull me back into my skin which I have been trying to escape from all week. Your fingers tracing the edges of my face give me what I need to make it through the night.

I would tell you that I love you, but I don't want you to leave. Your hand on my hip as you gently breathe beside me all night keeps me here for one more day. I might not be enough, and I might be damaged beyond repair, but tonight with your hand in mine I feel like I've finally come home.

Stupid

Sometimes you just need someone to acknowledge your existence and prove that you are actually rooted in this reality.  You need fingers running through your hair as you cry bitter useless tears for no good reason. You need calming breath in your ear and gentle words tickling your neck.

Sometimes I am such a stupid girl.

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.