Heavy The Head

eyepaint

“I want the truth, even if it wasn’t what I had thought it was.  Even if it wasn’t what I wanted it to be.”  Kee Aliens

moon

On this road to clarity and happiness, every omen, every tea leaf, has been thoroughly frisked for meaning.  All of the stones are up turned and words that alone meant nothing, examined.  I have made life into some sort of fruitless archeological dig.  I have felt that if I kept visiting every oracle that the great truth of my life will be revealed.  But it isn’t.  Only the untruths are showing themselves.

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I have learned that what feels and looks like love is most likely a carnival.  The loveliest of smoke, the cruelest of mirrors.  And without reserve, I will always buy the ticket.  The show is forever worth it.  I have found that most of my words, the ones said and the ones said to me, are no armor against life’s bullshit.   I cannot talk or think my way out of a world that has no language.  I have seen with my own eyes how a highway dead ends and a wooded path that can take you to the Emerald City.  Nothing makes sense and nothing ever will.

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My journey home, a trip taken in desperation, brought me a precious couple of gems.  One of them I was given by an old friend whom I respect without limit.  He said to me that love is not a debt paid or time owed.  Nobody has any obligation to love you romantically longer than they do.  We insert ego into something that must remain untethered to be real.  This is something that I have always felt but never admitted to.  Romance is romance, not a promise of permanence….

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The second jewel was this:  When a snake bites, the only cure is to suck out the poison.  And I am a snake that bites my own tail.  And I am the antidote to the wound that I inflict, on myself, on others.  I have been tearing myself apart all these years.  I produce a false shine and turn on myself with the slightest sign of failure.  There is nothing real in that action.  That hunt only brings in bad meat and a broken heart.  And so, back to the drawing board.  Another reinvention.  This one, hopefully, a clearer version of myself.  Something with a little peace and quiet.

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And the crowning jewel, the icing, the prize, the kings ransom…..love is all there is.  Old words.  Ancient sentiment.  But fresh and true none the less.  My weaponry in this battle is greased with love.  Love for myself.  Love for my friends.  Love for those that storm the fields against me.  It hurts, to be this open.  It hurts, to have loved and lost.  It hurts, to forge into the darkness with no light.  And I am afraid.  And I will be brave.

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This, I swear.

This last turn about the sun….what a ride.  What a strange walk in a stranger land, following the trail of the darkest, most dangerous version of love.  I can’t see the future, I am not even sure that it’s there.  I don’t know if I am broken or whole.  I am old and salty, naive and busted wide.  I guess I wasn’t specific enough about what I wanted.  Strong, wise, heat, bows and arrows, skin and sweat, balls, guts, truth.  I should have been vividly more specific.  I should have used those words.  And since I didn’t then, I will now.  You will not find me next year buried under casual carelessness, at the mercy of a broken wild thing.  Please consider this me, going on record.

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I want bravery.  In myself, in him.  We will look at each other and never turn away.  No matter the ugly, no matter the fear.  We do this and are rewarded with all of the beauty that the eye and heart can hold.  We do this and broom the dirt of sadness right out the fucking door.  We fight together and laugh at our enemies because no one thing can defeat our army of two.

diver

There is no need for you to love hip hop or know every word to every D’angelo song.  I only need you to love me like a G, a warrior.  To know every scar, every mole, every curve on my body and be able to sing it.  To know my heart, know my mind, and roam it’s peaks and valleys with the spirit of a pioneer.  I don’t care if you can field dress a deer,  just as long as you can feed me.  I don’t care if you can build me a house, just as long as you promise to always keep me warm.  I don’t need a man who acts like a gangster, I need one that is a gangster.  Quiet, strong, like wood, like stone.

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I need him to care enough about me to care enough about himself.  The body, a temple.  The mind, an ever expanding landscape that we travel together, that he is brave enough to wander alone.  I want books on his shelf, food in his cupboard.  Clean sheets on our bed, blankets soft and warm.  Seven pillows.  Age will change us but our bodies and minds will remain strong.  I want a fella that is tough enough to fight beside me, for as long as we both shall live.

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Push me, force me, dangle me off a cliff.  I want to be uncomfortable.  When you do this it shows me that you think I can be more and do better.  I never want to grow soft or bored.  In return, I will do this for you.  I will twist you up and spin you until up is down.  And if you crash, I will dust you off and tell you how lovely you are.  And then help you try again.  Because together we are unbreakable.

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Fuck me.  Make love to me.  I want to know every part of you.  And you will know everything.  I will keep no secret.

panties

Don’t ever leave me.  If I give you my heart, I promise that there will be no greater love.  There is nothing else out there better.  I will grow and change, you will have a thousand dimensions all in one.  And if I fail you, there will still be no greater love.  Do not turn your back on me.  I will break.  No real man ever wants to see a woman break.  If I give you my heart, you are it’s keeper.  It will be your job to protect me, even if it’s from you.  If I trust you, do not break that pact.  For me to love, for me to trust, is my deepest battle.  And if I win that battle and give myself to you, then you must stay.  And if you don’t want to stay then leave me where you found me.  Leave my heart whole.  There is someone out there that wants me whole, so let me be.

gold

And this, I swear.

These Dreams

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Spare a little candle
Save some light for me
figures up ahead
Moving in the trees
White skin in linen
Perfume on my wrist
And the full moon that hangs over
these dreams in the mist

samari
Darkness on the edge
Shadows where I stand
I search for the time
On a watch with no hands
I want to see you clearly
Come closer than this
But all I remember
Are the dreams in the mist

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These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it’s cold outside
Every moment I’m awake the further I’m away
hatman
Is it cloak ‘n dagger
Could it be spring or fall
I walk without a cut
Through a stained glass wall
Weaker in my eyesight
The candle in my grip
And words that have no form
Are falling from my lips
hand
These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it’s cold outside
Every moment I’m awake the further I’m away
leterbuck
There’s something out there
I can’t resist
I need to hide away from the pain
There’s something out there
I can’t resist
The sweetest song is silence
That I’ve ever heard
Funny how your feet
In dreams never touch the earth
In a wood full of princes

nomads
Freedom is a kiss
But the prince hides his face
From dreams in the mist

longroad

These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it’s cold outside
Every moment I’m awake the further I’m away
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These dreams go on when I close my eyes
Every second of the night I live another life
These dreams that sleep when it’s cold outside
Every moment I’m awake the further I’m away

eternallove

Let It Burn.

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In my bed, a bed that never saw your body, never drank our sweat, or felt you rise at dawn.  In my bed a fire lit.  It started in my belly and stayed there.  It burnt my guts.  It took my heart.  Nightmares, tears, panic, all of the things that came from your disappearance, fuel.  All of it, fuel.  I burned until the only thing left was ash.

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The odd thing about nothingness is that it never truly is nothingness.  Buried within is always more.  More pain.  More hope.  More.  While the fire emptied me out, some strange well filled me.  I wonder about it now.  I’m a pile of ash and still I breath.

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That bed, the furnace with my dreams of love a smoldering collection of wood and smoke warming every inch of my life.  I seek sleep in it now and it feels like a war.  A thing that is winning and losing, together.   I lay in it, tossing,turning, allowing myself to think of you, willing myself to forget.  But I never truly want to forget.  We can paint over it, we can turn it away when it begs to crawl between the sheets, we can put a million miles between this day and that,  but the burnt earth will never forget.  The scars of this fire will be seen by every man and woman that passes through our scorched worlds.

twowomen

A friend told me today that he a had moment in life where he opened his eyes to a room filled with flames.  In his left hand was a match, in the right, a gas can.  In that moment you can do only one thing.  Let the mother fucker burn.  All of it, down to the ground.  You with it.  We hold onto some moments with a religious fever.   And to watch them burn is a baptism.  Sacrosanct reckoning.

hatboob

A dunk in the river, a dab of holy water, none of it compares to the righteousness of fire.  And so I am grateful.  I am reverent of this bed that now holds the bones of a new woman.  To me it is a nest.  And I am a phoenix.  The pillows are seeds and the blankets are feathers.  And I will be a phoenix.  I will be hot to the touch.  My hurt will be the wings that keep my soul open, wings spread wide, despite fear, despite the weakness of this new skin.

marylin

It is easy to look back at lost love and regret, hate.  I will never do that.  In my chest is a small, wood cabin that exists only for that love.  It is where I keep forgiveness, respect, and true love.  As my body ages, this house will not.  There is a bow with arrows on the wall, a red hot stove, and a bed with sheets that are always turnt down, waiting.  It is fire resistant.  All great things are both fed by heat and strong enough to withstand the match.

chopwoods

This one’s for you Gyspy.

Color Me

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Yesterday was the day of red.  Blood.  Anger.  Eyes veiled with crimson.  Red is the color of mortal crime.  Once the blood runs the halls, there is no clean.  Ever again.

Sylwia Makris

If my heart is blackened and I seem antique, know that under the charred flesh and onyx eyes is new flesh.  The skin saves hope from the careless hands of fire.  Behind the iron is the only woman who knows how to love a king.

orange

You fill me up.  From the bottom to the top.  The orange earth pushes between our toes and we walk together like this.  Two children staying one step ahead of time.

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I never thought the day could come when the rosy pink of my youth would turn to dust and blind me.  Fear has aged the blush, turning my heart a frightening purple.

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Chalked hands tracing white walls.  Winter, barren hours, and endless miles lay ahead like a marble tundra.  There is beauty in this white world.  Just like there is beauty in the empty rooms we leave behind right before the last door is shut.

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With out white, black has no outline.  With out black, white is just a multiplication of what has never been done.

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The blue in your eyes reminds me of the ocean I grew up on.  White crested, green blue waves, unruly and uninviting.  There was this unspoken truth there that we all acknowledged.  Most of those who ventured into those ice waters would not be coming home.

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As a child I would often bed in the moss and loam of our pacific forests.  The smell was so old and so fresh all at once.  I always hoped that that would be the day that a fairy would decide to show itself to me.  I suppose that I still feel this way.  Oregon green is the color of my imagination.

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Gold.  The warmest of metals.  The prize.

 

Shoots and Ladders

Before some fool let me know that you boys have dicks, I thought the only thing you carried was a stick, and me, a doll.

It was then or shortly after that I knew we where never going to be on the same side.

There was never again to be balance.  However slight the difference, one side would always be raised by the weight of the other.

When I was on top…

He would be at the bottom.  Climbing up.

I stand there, looking down at you, looking up.  And I can’t help but think, will we ever stand on even ground.  Play by the same rules.  Fight for the same prize.

We know that a game requires two or more, must be 8 years to play, must be this tall to ride.  What the instructions neglected to impart is how bad it feels to win and how glorious loosing will be.

And like age and like our childhood boardgames and like all things ancient and profane, we tire of paying it any mind.  This love game. So the rules change.  Our actions cloud with the residue of time.  We become opaque.  And again, the game is renewed.

Now I find that the rules bend just like my back.  Real or a lie, the word is only a sound made by people who sadly believe they have mastered a game created by gods who crave folly like humans crave love.

What fools we mortals be.  The pawns in a war of our own making.  Slaves to an invisible master.