The Fighter's Reach

A spider-like hop. A lunging forward with a speed and violence I know you store up in your muscles with each movement. Breath coming quick. Fist flying forward reaching for a target. I see each muscle slide on your torso, down your arms, flexing in your powerful legs. The tension coiled like a spring, flung forward at an invisible enemy. Snap! and you are back in a flash.

I let my breath out slowly. My cells grow flushed and swell.

You don't realize it but your muscles flex in the same way, with the same speed and violence, when you are above me. Sliding in and out at a rapid shuddering pace. I have to catch my breath then as well. Awed at the beauty of your hardness and my softness meeting in a sweaty dance on the sheets. I am not blind to the juxtaposition.

In that moment, sex and violence shimmer as one beautiful star burning in a dead universe. We are that center of everything and close our eyes against the dying of the light.

To Be Unreal

No one will know what it's like to be out of phase with this plain of existence. To have stepped slightly to the left of reality and thus to feel unreal. It feels like an electrical cable driven into your guts constantly zapping you; rippling buzzy zip and zaps of nervous enegry through you. It's like having bees under your skin all the time. Like rivers of electrofied water in your veins. Nothing feels right. You're just not sure you are here. You feel like you might disappear any minute. Tune out like a fuzzy picture on an old TV.

I wake up like this.
I walk through life like this.
I pretend I'm fine.

But I'm just that little bit out of focus. Slipping between the slats in reality and something.... else.  Buzzing on the edge of electric waves trying to pull me to pieces. I feel unsteady. Unstable. Not quite here. Not sure I'm actually alive. Like I need an anchor. Like I need you to hold me down and tell me I'm really real. Make sure that I don't slip down those cracks to somewhere else. Make sure I don't just fade away.

Please hold me down before they pull me out of here.

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.

Apache

Open your fucking eyes.