carousel

i’m a fucking carousel
of emotion
watch me spin
…rather slowly at times
& to creepy music
of course
angry now
depressed now
hopeless & self-destructive
calm & grounded
elated now
full of love
turn a little more
here comes your abandonment issues!
and
oh
we are back around to the anger
…what makes the carousel turn
where is the plug?
is it safe to stop it
or
like a roulette wheel
will it stop on double 0
& everyone
loses?

another take on my spinning which is really clear if you sit & read through my journal pages all at once. i looked through about two years worth & got pretty dizzy.

valentine’s day

i’m fifty
& still looking
to this day
as if i were fifteen
a sad charlie brown
hoping that this year
surely
this year
i will be noticed
cherished
celebrated
surely this year.

i’m not going to elaborate on this post because it’s just too sad.

best & worst

1995
lexington kentucky
flying balsa wood planes
in the park
with the man
i was engaged to
the man
i was going to spend the rest of my life
with
1996
austin texas
getting an expensive long-coveted gift
of white wing tip doc martins
from the man
who was about to leave me
as i had left him
already
for someone else
…funny thing
that is the last valentine’s day
i can remember
i remember the best
& i remember the worst that followed it
…nothing
more.

guess what i was doing for valentines? i wasn’t crying all day, i promise. i did try & try to remember any other valentine’s day. i dated someone for two years after this relationship mentioned here. then i married someone & spent several valentine’s days with him. then i married someone else & spent more than a decade of valentine’s days with him.
jesus.
in my defense, none of the guys who followed the best & the worst valentine of mine, none of those guys were very good at being sweet to me.
the last guy to be sweet to me gave me a pair of white doc martin wing tips & then broke my heart.
no matter how many valentines i make & give to people, i cannot quite heal that wound.

uncross my heart

i remove the conflict
i uncross
my heart
i life my arms
into the air
waiting
for that inevitable
embrace
that never comes
& the sun
sets
the moon moves
across the sky
in her dance with the
stars
& all i can feel is
lost.

i wrote this page in response to my tarot cards that keep having the idea of relationships & men as a conflict to who i am. i thought i could remove the conflict…but i could not.
so!
i am calling off the hunt. fuck it. i’m okay alone. right?
i am so totally okay alone.
i have so much crap to sort out. i mean, am i even over my exes? why can thoughts of them still break my heart? do i really need to pile anything on to that crap pile?
also. who do i even want in my life? when i imagine someone to grow old(er) with, who is it i really want? why does that change from day to day, moment to moment?
and should i even be trusted to pick someone? or let someone pick me? i do not have a good track record.
so maybe i am not ready. maybe it’s all a pipe dream.

i can always fall in love in my next life.

(funny story. while i was inking this, iggy came in to tell on poppy for flipping him the bird…looked at my inking & was like, “nice, mom!”)

trash

i am brilliant trash
a plastic bag
dancing in the wind
a piece of tinsel
stuck in a tree branch
i am fantastic
majestic
trash
a paper boat
launched into a storm drain
lint woven into a bird’s nest
i am amazing
trash
living in fear
of being thrown away
of not being recognized
for my amazing
potential.

yup. another true story.
i cannot remember what inspired this page. i’m sure others have touched on this theme. it seems like a common one to folks like me. the broken & damaged with our dazzling souls just longing to be noticed.
sigh.
someday….

circles

going in circles…
am i
a flushed tank of
toilet water
swirling
am i
a tornado
tall as a mountain
& filled with rage
& frustration
am i
a quiet dust devil
on a summer evening
appearing
as if by magic
& disappearing again
into the dusk?

that’s the question.
though i am probably all three of those things. it just depends on when you catch me.
but reading through journals trying to find fodder for my the invisible exhibitionist book version, i notice that i am definitely not a linear person. yup, i’m the moon…though i guess the moon doesn’t really turn? but it does go circles around the earth, so, yeah! i’m the moon.
moody moody moon.

just knock

i need my walls
i need a safe space
to retreat to
when i need
to retreat
&
i’m not one of those people
who’s door is always
open
i do totally shut
my door
but if you knock
i will probably
let you in.

true story.
i tried to take those walls down & bad things happen. like when you remove a weight bearing wall in your house thinking it will open things up & all of a sudden your roof has fallen in?
like that.
so i’m keeping my walls, but, hey, knock & i might let you in.

monster in my head

will i always
be attracted to the possessed
knowing what it is like
having a monster
in my head
how do i escape
the easy bond that forms
with those
who would gladly
join me & my demons
for tea time?

i was watching the marvel series legion and totally rooting for the main character even after it became obvious that he was not the “hero” of the story. i tend to really like the bad guys in a story–especially when the plot allows the watcher to bond with said bad guy.
sigh.
how am i supposed to find a good grounded man when i am still (still still still) digging your demon?

sad songs say so much

expressing my love
of singing along
with sad songs
she asks me
“but surely you can’t do that
now”
indicating my seeming happy
so i tell her
about poking a bruise
just to feel the pain
because there is some
pleasure
in the pain
it’s the same with singing along
to sad songs
& reveling
in that broken heart
feeling
the pleasure
in the pain.

per neil diamond, “Funny thing, but you can sing it with a cry in your voice
And before you know, it get to feeling good
You simply got no choice”

per sir elton, “If someone else is suffering enough oh to write it down
When every single word makes sense
Then it’s easier to have those songs around
The kick inside is in the line that finally gets to you
And it feels so good to hurt so bad
And suffer just enough to sing the blues”

so i’m not alone. not at all in this.

speaking of poking bruises, i have realized that i can just think about the year 2015 & become weepy. if i ever need to cry on demand, i know where to look.

thundering storm

i am not a flower
opening
a gentle breeze
the flap of a butterfly’s wings
i am the storm
the thundering clouds
& lightening
i am the wild wind
& pouring rain
i am
transformation
blowing away
washing away the rubbish
so the sun can come out
again
warm the earth
open the flowers
& coax
butterflies
onto the breeze.

i got a new scanner! i am trying to be sensible with my money in case the universe stops being so sweet to me; however! a new scanner was necessary as my old one (donated by a friend three years back/seven journals back?) was making super sad sounds & then just refusing to move.
additionally, i had a hard day or two with technology as my laptop was finally updated & then didn’t want to do what i needed it to do.
but i persevered & voila! new pages! old to me, but new to you! i have a back log of 8 or more pages, so the days to come will show how behind i am.

but transformation.
growth
it’s all good.

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