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?

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smoke & ashes

i don’t think
my lonely
could get any
bigger
i mean
where would it go
even?
that much
lonely?
it would fill
a hot air balloon
& float it
to the moon
i wish
i could
send my lonely
to the moon
root it out of
its nest
in my
heart
burn it
in a bonfire
on a dark solstice night
turn my lonely
to smoke & ash
& wait for the light
to
return.

with big feelings come art journal pages. as i learn how to celebrate my brother instead of mourning him…the other pain rises to the surface. the pain of a broken heart.
a broken marriage.
a man who could not be the person i needed him to be and instead became a monster set on destroying me.
devouring
me.
the lonely is so large right now as i don’t know how i will ever find love again.
but my heart still wants to look.

the better to eat you with

“you’re so pretty”
they say
“thank you”
i reply
“but listen to this….”
& i pour
out
my heart
every enchanted thought
waiting for them
to be dazzled
by my rhinestone
soul
“you have a beautiful
smile”
they say
as they see my lips
move
without
hearing a word
“my smile is a reflex”
i tell them
when i feel
frustrated
angry
overlooked 
misunderstood
invisible
my smile shines 
as my inner light
diminishes
“you have nice eyes” 
they tell me
i sigh 
“the better to see you with”
i reply
just before 
i eat them up
wondering how
they did not notice my sharp teeth
while they were admiring
my smile.

this is another shower thought–meaning, i thought of it while i was in the shower & then had to memorize it in order to get it written down before it slipped down the drain. 
i need a voice recording device in my shower. except then i would never listen to it because i have that common aversion to my own voice.
so i need a chalkboard in my shower. 

also, i think this poem could go longer & have more to it. my art journal project limits my original thought to the length of one page with room for an illustration.
however, in editing, i can always elaborate. 
i think this one might need some elaboration.

okay. so my to-do list has me working on creating a finished, publishable version of my art journal. right now i am focusing on re-creating the art for it and later will look for the written pages. 
also, i am working on editing & putting together a collection of short stories for publication.
why am i telling you this? because, for the past year or more i have posted almost daily, sometimes three times a day. but now, with all this editing & finishing, i am not posting as much. 
but i don’t want y’all to wander off & forget about me. 
i hope to get posts up a few times a week. i will definitely be posting finished art journal illustrations as they are done. 

okay. 
let’s get into trouble, baby. 

ode to an ex-husband

you don’t think
you are
being 
a motherfucker
because
being a 
motherfucker
is the only
reality 
you know
but
trust me
as the sole
beneficiary 
of your
motherfuckery
you
are
being

mother
fucker.

this is an actual text i sent to my ex-husband. i do not have a smart phone–so i had to type it all out without the aid of a keyboard. that’s how dedicated i am to letting my ex-husband know what a motherfucker he is. 

choosing to survive

except
i chose to be alone
i did
i did not
i did not choose
for my ex-husband to be an 
asshole
but i did choose
to live without an asshole
in my life
which meant
i was left all alone
& lonely
i accept that i have ultimately
made that choice
& am also
choosing
not to simply let anyone
any warm body
be
the company
i so desire
so
yes
i choose
to be alone
even if
i would rather not
be
lonely.

i felt that it was important for me to acknowledge this to myself. to know that i am not just a victim of my life. i make choices to try to be stronger & to try to heal the pain and damage i have suffered. though i believe my decisions of late will help me in the long run, that doesn’t mean i enjoy the immediate effects of them. 

meanwhile, i went to iowa city to check out their developing eco-village. it was beautiful & the people were really cool…but i do not have anywhere near to the money i would need as it requires actually buying a flat or duplex. 
i will talk to them to see if there are any options for a broke-ass mama like me…but i don’t think it is someplace i can move to anytime soon. so i am still trying to figure out my next move, a move back to community and away from the isolation of my homestead.
but i was happy to–briefly–be back in iowa city. i wish i had never left. 
i wonder what that parallel universe looks like….

on the topic of money. i have decided that i have to actually demand child support from my ex-fucker. i mean, dur. or rather, i shouldn’t even have to demand it–he should just be paying it. but that is not ever going to happen. he is paying just a token amount because i let him get away with that & now he actually has a job where he could afford to pay more…but he is not. he is not supporting his children because he doesn’t think he should have to. 
this makes me so sad. 
and i really do hate being the heavy.
and he is so good at making me feel like shit whenever he puts me in the position where i have to ask him for anything. 
oh! 
and i did tell him, when we did the minion swap, that if i were using him as a punching bag (as he likes to accuse me) that would mean i was angry about something else & taking it out on him. 
i let him know that he is not my punching bag because the anger i am directing at him is anger that i have at him–my frustration with him…appropriately directed at him.
fucking manipulative motherfucker. 

heart of stone

maybe
you are just another
of my crimes
against
humanity
a trail of
broken men
behind me
(they were like that
when i found them
really)
pieces missing
malfunctioning parts
misfiring hearts
sure
other women
will say it is my fault
as they stroke
your hair
& stare
into your big blue eyes
comforting you
with kisses
exclaiming at how mean
i must be
how heartless & cruel
“good luck, ladies!”
i holler from
my cave on the hill
high above
that trail of broken men.

this is one that i started writing in my head as i lay in bed not wanting to leave the warm covers to walk to my journal in my “office” (aka the kitchen.) but–what is this? i finally put a notebook on the shelf next to my bed!
so this one was not lost to the crack in my head where loose mental post-its collect, unwritten, unread….
i’m glad i wrote it. i like it.
and i finally got to be a gorgon. it had been suggested by one reader before that my hair made me look gorgonian. and i have thought of that many times as my hair wiggled to life under my pen.
today i used a bamboo pen to bring my hair to life.
i like it.
so there is that.

this is based on my thinking about dusty & how the first time i broke up with him he started dating some girl & was sure to report to me that she said he was a great guy.
“you are a great guy,” i replied, meaning it–believing it was some fault of mine that i could not stand the idea of staying with him.
however, with each break up & each reunion & every moment more that i knew him, i meant it less & less.
today i no longer think that dusty is a great guy.
then i began to wonder if it is my fault his greatness diminished.
i mean, i did break up with him relentlessly over a period of like seven? eight years? maybe i warped him?
of course, it was not difficult to find reasons to run. it became way more difficult to find reasons to stay, reasons to risk my mental  & emotional health by staying with a manipulative narcissist.
i think over those years i saw more & more of who he was…really was. i got to know him better than anyone else ever. i got to see into the depths of his so-called soul….

yet all those girls/women to come will think they are the first to really really know him–& they will think i was just some awful & cold bitch to hurt him like i did.

they will want to love him truly which will then heal him and he will love them always.
poor things.

good riddance

sometimes
he shows me
something
other than his wounded self
other than the
sad & scared
little boy
inside
the one he expects
me
to take care of
instead
sometimes
his true colors
emerge
brighter than the
blue of his eyes
fangs & claws
cruel words come easily
as jekyl
turns to hyde
& i am almost
almost
relieved
to see the one
he keeps
hidden
away
as much as it hurts
the pain is a
relief
compared to the
confusion.

after i wrote this (based on a text fight with dusty)…i began to wonder if this side of him is actually yet another of his chameleon colors. i mean, maybe he is channeling me when he becomes snarky like this? his interpretation of my behavior? is he showing his true colors or is he just copying my personality? like when he is like this, he calls me “dude.” that is totally me. i call him dude when i am frustrated with him.
and he is all bitchy at me.
recently, someone called me “charming,” and i let him know that he was the very first person to ever call me that.
he was.
no one calls me charming. i am too honest & too blunt. i don’t bother with filters. i am a “bitch” or “scary” by many assessments. however, i am a kind person. i do care deeply for others & will help anyone i can help & feel badly if i can’t. but i am not good at social niceties. i never have been and really don’t care to learn. though i am polite. i say “please” & “thank you….”
additionally, some of what he says feels like he is being fed lines from someone else. telling me not to use him as a punching bag when i call him on his bullshit. who told him to say that, i wonder.
does dusty in fact have a real personality or are they all borrowed?
i wonder.
but seeing this side of him does make me feel better about my decision to kick his ass out of my life. anyone who is capable of being a shit to me after all i have done for him…all those things that he pretends i never did, choosing to remember the times i stood up for myself & didn’t give him what he wanted…choosing to remember those times as my being unfair to him.

bleah.
whatever the fuck.
good riddance.

i did the illustration after i wrote this post. i really did NOT want to do another self-portrait of myself as a victim–suffering someone else’s bad behavior. instead i decided to celebrate my own bad behavior.

INKtober twenty-ninth

you killed the me
who thought i could be
a good
mother
you picked her apart
tore her down
slowly
…deliberately?
did you want
me
to fail?
you turn
away
every time
i show you
the pain you caused
& then i wonder
why
do
i
still
try?
it’s ridiculous
really
that i am
still
still
still fucking
trying
to convince you to care
about
me
the person you destroyed….
why
would you care
ever
much less
now?

so this took me long enough to figure out. if someone is okay with hurting me once…they are probably going to be okay with continuing to hurt me and they probably aren’t going to be sorry about it.
i’m a bit dense sometimes.
okay, i’m often a bit dense.
especially about people who i think should love me…but really really don’t.

INKtober fifth

what do you do
if you realize
you are still in love
with the person
you hate?
hey–
remember when you
were friends?
remember
when he was your best
friend?
wait–
why are you doing this?
why are you torturing
yourself?
is this just another
“i’m lonely & looking
to fill in the blanks?”
is this just your way
of never
healing?
what is it with you
anyway?
shouldn’t you have
gotten
over
him
already?
or…things like this
the lost forever
is it even
possible
to heal
that
wound?

so, okay, i’m already hell-bound, but i so love catholic art. and, you know, i noticed yesterday that the inktober prompt was “spell” and i did a picture based on swan lake–a fairy tale where people are under a spell.
and today, the prompt is “chicken” and i did a picture based on saint peter–that jesus-denying motherfucker.

blasphemy.
such a fun word.

anyhoo! my art journal inktober fest continues as i delve into that conundrum of feelings i have for my ex-husband. i love him…i hate him…i love him…i hate him. my roller coaster relationship.

do i want to try again? or am i just horny?
more at ten….

(is it me or do my boobs & mommy tummy look better when i’m hung upside down until dead?)

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