my egg tooth

it has taken me
a lifetime
of butting my head
against walls
to finally
grow
my egg tooth
which erupts now
in all it’s glory
a narwhal
tusk
miracle
jutting from my
smile
as i plot
my escape
my
own
rescue.

okay. i really like this idea.
however i needed to argue with fidgit about whether or not mermaids have gills.
he says because they have boobs (indicating mammal-hood) they must not have gills.
i say that there is no way they could live in underground kingdoms without having gills and that maybe the boobs are ornamental. i do not remember ever seeing a mermaid breastfeed…but maybe their culture is as stupid about that as ours is and mermaids are forced to breastfeed in secret….
nevertheless!
i really like my words.
the picture might need work.

in other precocious kids news, poppy (who is a bit of an ass man) was shouting into my bottom while i was doing dishes, then assuring me the sound would come out my nose.
i thought it was hysterical.
i apologize to future romantic partners of my children.

and now misha is asking for a picture of her as a mermaid. i should have seen that coming.

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sometimes i get the rabies real hard

i’m just gonna
phone it in
today
seems my rabies
is having itself
a
flare-up
& no one
especially not me
can do
anything
right.

it is difficult to tell if it is just my normal bad disposition or if it is a symptom of my impending crone-dom (don’t tell anyone, but this is my last year as a forty-something.)
but i get so fucking snarky sometimes.
so fucking snarky.
my poor kids know to hide & not draw fire…the dog puts herself in her crate…while i wreak havoc. go on a rampage. vent like a steaming hot tea kettle with little self-regulation…usually triggered by any signs that anyone expects domesticity out of me.
i am like the you in the song “dead sea” by the lumineers:
you told me you were good at running away
domestic life it never suited you like a suitcase

when i feel caged, i get especially vicious.
nothing like four kids and a house in bad need of cleaning to make one feel caged…or it’s menopause.
i really can’t tell the difference.
on an unrelated note (not really,) my current dowry is a six pack of flying dog’s raging bitch beer.



absolution

the one who
wronged me
the one who
betrayed me
the one i
still
love
i laid at his feet
to seek absolution
for my sins
against
him
i held his cold feet
in my hands
i bathed his cold feet
with my hair
with my kisses
he reached out to me
still believing
he
loved
me
but in all the wrong ways
…nevermind
i seek forgiveness
realizing that his sins
against me
are a black mark
on
his
soul
his own soul
to save
the only sins i need to worry
about
are my own
my own
sins
forgiven
i am
free.

the previous post i wrote in my bedside notebook just before falling asleep. this post i wrote upon waking. only while posting them here did i realize both are about sins & forgiveness…maybe that full blood moon shining on my catholic shadows?

this one is written about the dream i had before i woke up this morning. one of a re-occurring theme of my seeming to beseech my ex-husband for love & attention while he is cold & distant.
but this one took on the flavor of mary magdalene bathing jesus’s feet.
which i found to be awesome in its symbolism
(speaking of which…i once had a sex dream about jesus in which he got up & left after he finished but before i did, leaving me frustrated–to return to his flock of women–if i remember right…)

it seems like i have been trying to decipher the re-occurring dream theme about my ex-husband for years.
however, i think this is it. i think i have to let my sins against him be forgiven and not concern myself with his sins against me. i mean, they are his sins. he has to live with that. i have to live with my own.
so maybe its time i let them go.

thank goodness my subconscious finally decided to go with the mary magdalene theme so i could figure out what it wanted to tell me all these years.
though my ex-husband would enjoy it way too much to perceive himself as a jesus figure. he always loves it when someone tells him he looks like jesus (the blue-eyed version)–which happens way too often. fuck, what more would a narcissist want than to identify himself as the savior of mankind?

fallen X

your whole life spent
in punishment
for your sins
did you choose
parents would would not
love
you
naturally following
a choice of men
who could not
love
you
to draw the
conclusion
you
are
unlovable?
your punishment
your sins
your wrongs
you’re wrong
you have not
sinned
you do not deserve
this
hell
you lock yourself
into
no
no more shackles
no more self-flagellation
you are
lovable
you do deserve
love
spread your wings
you sexy
beast
spread your wings
&
fly.

catholicism, that double-edged sword–messed me up a plenty, but also gave my art & writing a flavor that i love.

still invisible

every time i think
of writing
you
the words turn into
poetry
before i can pen
them
& next i find
myself
hoarding my own
words
clutching them
close
not wanting to
share
wishing myself
invisible
again
remember when i was
invisible?
camouflaged inside my own
life
unremarkable
me
oh how i miss
my
solitude
but these words i show you
now
they are my new
camouflage
because, really
you may look
but you still can’t
see
me.

just feeling a bit conflicted about how visible i make myself. there is comfort in being invisible. as much as i try to be seen…sometimes i want to disappear.
most times.
just call me the invisible exhibitionist (so totally a title to an upcoming memoir)

fly, my lovelies, fly

i love to set
my demons
free
go
fly
my lovelies
fly from me
swoop & terrorize
with shrieks
of
delight
as i loose you
onto the world
loose you
from my cobwebbed
mind
& you take with you
the dense
darkness
of my heart…
i never ask
what you did
my demons
when you
return
to roost
i only
revel
in the short but light
time
of mine
in a head
in a heart
that is
not
haunted.

yesterday i posted about my crap-ass experiences with my own motherhood. i was in pieces as the words spilled out, but by the time i posted them, i had pulled myself together.
because i wrote it out
i let it out
i am not joking when i compare my art & writing to an exorcism.
it so totally is.
my art & my writing keep my demons at bay. keep them from gnawing too deeply into my soul.
some of my stuff might be difficult to read…but don’t worry, you don’t have to read it.
i, however, have to write it.

needless pt. 3

& what if
your needs
aren’t met
when you whisper them
gently?
& what if
your needs
aren’t met
when you scream them
angrily?
& what if
your needs
aren’t met
even by you?
what if you choose
to ignore your
needs
there is no time
you have no energy
&
after all
your needs
aren’t
really
important
are they?

more internal struggle with being human and having needs. i might just return to being the devil after all this introspection on my needs & still feeling as if i have no idea of how to discover my own humanity.

crap.

needless pt. 2

needing
pisses me off
i keep my needs
buried
until they become
my
molten
core
& eventually
i erupt
covering anyone near me
in
raging
lava
& i am left to punish
myself
for having had
needs
to begin with
for having let
my needs
out
to create injury….
but
what would happen
i wonder
if i just asked
for what
i
need?

continuing my brain dig for answers about my inability to have healthy normal needs…or being unable to deal with them in a healthy normal way.
the thought on this page is continued onto the next post i am doing–“needless pt. 3″…so stay tuned, my lovelies.

i went through my old journals last night. four journals of self-portraits. i was trying to figure out who to re-create & who would stay put. alas alack, there are so many self-portraits i just love…which i suppose is a good thing…but i really should narrow them down unless i am going to try to publish an encyclopedia of me….
anyhoo. going through all my old stuff kind of inspired the illustrations for the two pages i worked on last night (needless pt. 2 & pt. 3)

dude, i am almost done with a fifth journal of self-portraits, and i haven’t even picked any from that journal yet….
encyclopedia of me it is!

needing to be needed

i am needy
i my need
to be needed
as the band says
i need you
to need me
so
i make myself
indispensable
i am the most
dedicated
employee
sure, i’ll do extra work
dirty work
whatever you need
i am the most
passionate
girlfriend
my blowjob will roll
your eyes
like a slot machine
and
i make a mean
cheesecake
anything
everything
so that one day you realize
you
cannot
live
without
me
i am needy
in my need
to be needed
no wonder
i’m a dog
person.

more exploration of my fucked up ability to need. i need to make you happy so that you will not leave me.
but that only lasts so long.
i either scare people away with that intensity…or i burn out and wander off when that one way street leaves me empty.
meeting everyone else’s needs, but never asking for what i need…and always surrounding myself with people who would rather it stay that way.
ay yi yi
so much to dig around in once you open up my head.

ps. i am starting to wonder if my tendency to leave my eyes empty is in any way related to the bonnie tyler video for “total eclipse of the heart.”
turn around
bright eyes
also! in my traveling from mother to crone…it feels like i have gained 20 pounds overnight & my boobs have gotten bigger. so i am feeling extra lumpy & unattractive–which tends to show up in my self-portraits.

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