Apeshit, bitches.

Mon, 23 Nov 2009 02:43:12 GMT

I think my lover is psychic.
And my love for our daughter grows and grows.

He's cluing in, I think. Somehow.
Intensifying.
Spontaneity and a rough edge.
He's giving me little shivers all over again.

I'm so glad it's him.
.soft smile.

Fri, 13 Nov 2009 15:53:09 GMT

I've shut the door on the depth in me so often to save others from it.
That I'm afraid it won't open up again.
i'm tormented by this.
throat constricting, pupil dilating, mind scattering torment.

Brad told me I want too much. (he's probably right.) [it's too late, anyway.]
Is there a perfect?
someone with the flex in their fibers to bend with me.
because reality's what you see in it.

george is gone.
it's whispering through my mind.
on the breath of a small, sad gasp.
i gave birth to the death of us.
and now. i've lost a massive piece of me.
lost access to. unspeakable.

fracturing.
frantically applying tape and glue.
and keeping my cool.

I'm going to fix this.
For the first time in my life.
Without him.

if they knew how i'd needed him, they'd be shocked.

Mon, 09 Nov 2009 02:34:24 GMT

i compose constantly, while in motion and with no method of record.
guess who's in town?
i'm not supposed to care, but it's lining up like morbid curiosity.
i'm like velvet right now.
like caramel on the sidewalk, warmed in the sun.
melting outwards, only minus the sun part.
it's night-time and that suits my mood better anyway.

Thu, 05 Nov 2009 19:26:51 GMT

Oh, Misunderstandings! Oh, you darlings of "in vino veritas" and all that clap-trap, rubbishy nonsense! How I cozen thee! How sweetly to my bosom do I cradle thy head!

My predator loves that you're mate AND prey. You'd better tag my ear while you've got the chance, cowboy, or I'll go stomping all over the world like I've got the right.

One of those great examples.

Tue, 27 Oct 2009 01:03:01 GMT

This is one of the myriad reasons David makes me want to scream. They're adding up.

He goes and collects all the trash in the house and sets it by the sliding glass door, blocking them. Then he sits down in the chair directly in front of the door. Not four feet outside the door are the garbage cans.
He takes his shoes off and chills.
For hours.
Talks incessantly and ignores the SMELLY trash he decided not to walk the extra four feet to put outside.
I'm enjoying this immensely.

Stop me if you've heard this one before...

Sun, 18 Oct 2009 23:17:08 GMT

{insert blank, overfull, desperate, dangerous stare here}

({because it's fraying]}

Thu, 15 Oct 2009 16:43:50 GMT

i'm going to press into your bones
take you in until you smell like me when you leave.
there's no showering you out of me.
not with brillo pads and bleach
and i'm going to make god damn sure
the whole world knows who's you are.
i'm going to scar you
tattoo my name across your chest
scratch myself into your eyes
stretch myself between the fibers of your muscles.
walking away from me will be agony
and the only way to cure yourself of this
will be to admit it
and come back for more of the very same.
so forget it.
forget the life you had.
give it up, the literalism and "hard reality" you breathe.
i'm going to bend your straight lines until all they lead to is
me.
forget whoever else was draping herself across your arms
oblivious to the distance already growing.
I am that distance.
I am the only thing you will need.
this party has started,
and i'm moving towards you.
I am an unstoppable force.
You are my immovable object.
I live for what we create every time we meet.

Thu, 15 Oct 2009 16:32:43 GMT

Is there even one person on the planet I would ever feel compelled to tell everything to?

shouldn't have thought.

Tue, 13 Oct 2009 20:12:32 GMT

not an indulgence i could survive without.
an integral piece i'm withering for want of.
come back. speak to me and fill what's empty.
unfortunate for both of us.
i can't be what you need.
but were you Hank, really?
or John?
the grass is always greener,
but i'm happy in this field.
i just wish i could plant you here and keep you.
but you were never mine.

and why is everything screaming today?
I'm trying to keep it quiet.

hats give me headaches.

Mon, 21 Sep 2009 14:28:22 GMT

So I'm doing better. Stella has her two front bottom teeth, and it's probably the cutest thing ever invented.
She's also crawling. Fast. Also the cutest thing ever invented, even if it's a little exhausting.
The nutshell in grotesque detail:
I almost died Wednesday during the LEEP to remove cancer cells. Quite literally. They think I have a problem with clotting agents in my blood. Blood work in the future. *shudder* Kayla said she'd never seen anyone bleed that much in the office before. Ever. It was pretty much crappy.

The plan is for me to work at the store and go to school. In the future. Because I'm no longer at the salon. Crazy things.
Anyway. I'm working at my aunt's Wireless Zone store, and I'm not sure I'm going to enjoy working for her because she's a crazy hypocrite, but she's still my aunt. I just hate hate fucking HATE the drama that's always around her and her daughters in law.
Meanwhile.
The plan is to work there and pay things off and save some money. Then get into school, wait two or three months and make a baby.
Graduate from school, have the baby, recuperate, get a job. Now. Do I want to work at the salon with Susan and company? Or do I want to work somewhere else?
But at least I've decided what to do.
And I'd like to not be living here for Christmas. We'll see.

Just. You know. Updating. Venom.

Sat, 15 Aug 2009 18:19:31 GMT

Cherie and Chris have been sleeping together for two months (she's still married), and he "moved in" two weeks ago, and now.
She's six weeks pregnant.
My brother in law is having a child with my friend of 18 years.
And she's still not divorced.

So now they're always together and always in my space/face.
We have got to get the fuck out of here.

In other news: There's not much news.
The baby's trying to crawl (!!) and chewing on everything (my face included), Justin's getting into blue-collar shape (and is smoking hot).
I'm watching What Not To Wear and I want a new wardrobe.

By the way. I still detest his dad. Only I'm being nicer about it because it distresses Justin how distressed I am.
So get me the FUCK out of this house.

Sat, 25 Jul 2009 00:45:55 GMT

I am so tired of his dad, his brother, cherie, tessa being here and being irritating ALL THE FUCKING TIME.

I'm beginning to hate all of them.
I mean. I hate his dad.
Period.
Loathe, despise, detest.

Everyone else is just sand in my eyes.

...Didn't see that coming.

Wed, 22 Jul 2009 01:08:14 GMT

Why am I suddenly very wary of his overwhelming affection for Ranada?

I love the girl.
But just now.
My stomach hit my feet when he talked about "adopting" her. Which we joke about constantly.
But his suggestion of adopting her.
Made me nauseated.
He still loves her.
loves her.
I feel sick.
Am I a consolation prize?
I don't even know why they didn't work.
I just know they didn't.
And she's married and just had Jacob.
And we're going to be married and have Stella.
And somehow.
I get the sinking sensation that had there been a chance, there'd have been no choice.
No thought.
Smart, cute, funny, sweet, toned, green eyes tan skin.
She cooks and speaks 2 other languages.
Total package.
What the fuck is this?
Where did it come from?
It's stupid. And he'd never leave me.
And I know he loves me.
I'm going to throw up.

give you the gun

Fri, 17 Jul 2009 19:32:09 GMT

just ate a sleeve of ritz for lunch. i seriously don't even want to consider what it's doing to my body right now.

weird restlessness. not unlike what i've had before. but certainly not the same.

she's laying on the sofa cushions on the floor in the sscno office talking to herself. reaching for patterns in the fabrics around her.

i've spent the last hour searching for this one entry of mine that i loved. and i found so much more. all the hope i'd pinned on the former won completely over but the future. i still miss everthing he should have been, everything he represented. but without him, no readiness for now. so i owe him a thank you for allowing me to break myself down and see the parts truly. clean and grease and ease back together in a newer, faster, smarter form.

except the fast and smart are gone... fishing i think. because they're certainly not in evidence here and now.

continuous screw-ups that i try to fix. repeatedly. the same mistakes i make every time i deal with my money. i'm too impulsive. oops. i like to think it's part of my charm.
the LET'S GO NOW!! why wait? why not as opposed to why. we have only this.

We. Have. Only. This. This one time and I don't want to waste it wanting and wishing for things I could've had.

I haven't done any of the work I'm supposed to.
I want her to know how voracious her mother has been.

I somehow feel like I'm not going to be around for the whole thing. And I want her to know when I'm gone just how violently I loved life. How much of it I wanted to devour. I want her to see my picture and feel that affinity. I want her to have that unquenchable appetite. I want her to have the whimsy to survive the horrible things going down in the world. With her still gunmetal grey occasionally green eyes. Chewing on her little giraffe chewy.
I want her to know how fully, ferociously, vitally I loved her father. Like fire sweeping across the desert, the molten core of the earth, the tides of the ocean.

Fiji. That's what we're doing in two years.

For The Record.

Wed, 06 May 2009 01:34:44 GMT

Nothing will ever be worth losing what I've got in my life right now. Nothing on earth will convince me that anything that would put an ounce of hurt in his eyes is worth it.
What I've got people kill for, women pine for, men quest for, children dream of growing up to have.
This is the Happily Ever After, speed bumps and all, and I don't have eternity with it.
I've only got now, whatever moments are allotted me, and I'll be damned a thousand times before I'll give those up for anyone.
The rest of my life is in his dimples and calloused hands and goofy smiles.
His made up languages and crass jokes and ridiculous mildly embarrassing moments.
His spectacular body and overwhelming love and generous soul.
His excitement for our future, whether it's a cardboard box under a bridge or a really nice house in the burbs.
He is worth everything and then some.
Our daughter is really, truly beautiful and happy and mellow. She's perfect and a total blast to be around, and a privilege to rear.
I'm blessed, and I'd be a truly greedy ungrateful disgusting bitch if I did anything to ruin it.
So no, George is not getting what he wants, and I'm a fool for considering it for the five minutes that I did.

George is murder on wheels.

Thu, 30 Apr 2009 01:25:20 GMT

Something's telling me to never confess.
The conversation we just had would have me abandoned or murdered.
And he's pretty much the only person who could get me considering ideas of that nature and meaning it.
Restlessness returns, only now I've got everything to lose.

Or this.

Sun, 12 Apr 2009 03:16:00 GMT

When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes
I all alone beweep my outcast fate
and trouble deaf Heaven with my bootless cries,
and look upon myself and curse my fate,
wishing me like to one on more rich in hope,
Featur'd like him, like him with friends posseess'd,
disiring this man's art, and that man's scope,
with what I most enjoy contented least;
Yet in these thoughts, myself almost despising,
Haply I think on thee, and then my state,
like to the lark at the break of day arising,
from sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate,
for thy sweet love rememb'red such wealth brings
that then I scorn to change my fate with kings.

Or these.

Sun, 12 Apr 2009 03:08:57 GMT

"My body was the House, and everything
he touched an exposed nerve."
Stephen Spender

"You dozed, and watched the night revealing
the thousand sordid images
of which your soul was constituted."
T.S. Eliot

"Though lovers be lost, love shall not."
Dylan Thomas

"We have given our hearts away, A sordid
boon!"
William Wordsworth

"Whereat I woke- a twofold bliss:
Waking was one, but next there came
this other: Though I felt, for this,
my heart break, I loved on the same."
Robert Browning

"I drink him, feel him burn the lungs inside me with endless evil longings and despair."
Baudelaire

Sun, 12 Apr 2009 03:05:41 GMT

So what would it be to be the prophet? Am I the scribe? Or am I one of those whose voice rises above the din suddenly, unexpectedly, and bright as the noon day sun? Or are the prophets numerous, millions upon millions around us, and is it the scribe that is the one whose ear must be able to pick out the lessons sung by divine right by the multitudes? Is it the prophet whose words call to the scribe to write? Or is it the scribe that picks from the plethora those words meant to be made immortal, emblazoned upon the minds of many?
Or are they one and the same, and is this question simply an avoidance of responsibility?

I can't take credit for this.

Sun, 12 Apr 2009 03:02:33 GMT

You, love, and I
(He whispers) You and I
And if no more than only you and I
What care you or I?

Counting the beats
Counting the slow heart beats,
The bleeding to death of time in slow heart beats,
Wakeful they lie.

Cloudless day,
Night, and a cloudless day,
Yet the huge storm will burst upon their heads one day
From a bitter sky.

Where shall we be
(She whispers) Where shall we be
When death strikes home, O where then shall we be
Who were you and I?

Not there but here,
(He whispers) Only here,
As we are together, now and here,
Always you and I.

Counting the beats,
Counting the slow heart beats
The bleeding to death of time in slow heart beats,
Wakeful they lie.

Robert Graves
Counting the Beats

Sun, 12 Apr 2009 02:56:37 GMT

I looked into the future and I saw an emptiness filled with light. I saw a vast horizon. I saw the delineation of of every possible something. The promise of your smile and a new song. I knew myself walking into the sun with all the power of my giant's stride.
want you to know it still matters to me.

Sun, 12 Apr 2009 02:26:01 GMT

They only see your power laced through your dragging knuckles,
knocking up sparks.
Feral and bitter cold intellect spike.

How badly I want you.

Beautiful malignancy, brilliant sparkling crystalline amber circular light. Windows in a cancer sore, visions through disease of clairvoyant radiance. amber emerald asure touches. fill me up and let me rush. drinking in your illness to reach the fire you exhale from. arteries ventricles, give me this, devourance, swallow you whole. consuming consummation of the twisted twilight colors in your eyes, hallowed jewels of touch and youth and flush. pour over and into, fill up, overflow, absorb utterly.

Enmeshed, entwined, interlaced.

unmade
undone
in love.

Sun, 12 Apr 2009 02:22:16 GMT

i fucking hate you.

My mind refuses to stay put, but you'd think i could control it.
it IS my mind, after all.
I've lost my touch and I'm spiralling. sowly spinning
face up, oblivious to the cosmic crock-pot i've
allowed myself to be dumped into. Eventually after I've been left to stew, unattended, ignored, I will
taste just like everyone else. Best served bland.

let me coast my hands along the curves and dips of your body

touch and untouched

[radio edited for content]

Sun, 12 Apr 2009 02:18:33 GMT

hold me a little while and let me breathe you in
the feeling of your skin brings mine to life
slow touch of always permeates our smiles
there are some things we just can't let go of
all i want is the feel of you because it's all i have
and should the world end right now
i won't cry
because I Love You
and when they ask me what i liked the best
i'll tell them it was you

Sun, 12 Apr 2009 02:16:44 GMT

Stop looking at me like that. You know we can't happen. Your eyes scald me as they slide over my face. The ache inside me to know what you taste like. To know notj ust the shape of your body under your clothes, but its texture as well. Every swell and dip. My breath catches in my throat when your eyes bore into mine over her head. I can almost feel your fingers as you lace them through her hair. The aching pull as you dip your head to kiss her, never taking your eyes from mine. As you walk past, your fingertips slide across my stomach, sparking the chain reaction. I look to the floor and follow you. You reach back without looking to reassure yourself, as if you doubted, we're level on this. Without hesitation my fingers find and twine with yours. We're level. And I won't get enough of you until I fill this empty stomach burn. Until all of my senses are overflowing with all of you.

every touch paints a vivid picture behind my eyes. i inhale the scent of you, i taste you on my lips, i'm dizzied, intoxicated by you, your presence. the feel of your skin sliding beneath my fingertips sends a thrill of electricity up through my scalp, out through my toes. coasting my hands over the planes of your back, discovering you through touch. absolute freedom locked in your arms. i can't get enough.