the shaman

the first song of the day
my oracle
of the mix
“kiss off” by the femmes
i need someone
a person to talk to
someone who’d care
to love
could it be you?

followed by the kinks
“tired of waiting”
i meditate
on my absent soul mate
& draw a tarot card
the shaman…
& i say, “oh crap…this can’t be good.”
nope.
a time of isolation
of finding
thyself
no time for looking
outside
when i have
so much
work
to do
inside…
crap.

the next day, my oracle song was the femmes again…”add it up.” why why can’t i get just one fuck?
the universe wants me to keep it in my pants it seems–though i obviously have other desires.
of course the universe is right because i am way too easily distracted by even just potential–even just a hint–of a relationship.
today i got the kinks again.
“everybody’s gonna be happy.”
promises promises…
but i keep doing my work. getting stronger every day.

(i do have a lot more songs on my mix than just the femmes & the kinks…it’s just they keep turning up in the first song i play.)

no longer haunted….

i am thinking about this a lot. it seems me & my life are in all sorts of transition.
though i’m not sure how to be me without being haunted, i am willing to find out.

(somewhat inspired by a shel silverstein illustration here)

itching to leave my cocoon

itching to leave my cocoon
itching to bloom
i’ve been in here too long
safe & snug
throughout my cold & dark
transformation
into a bright eruption
a moth to the moon
a bee to a flower
my purpose
awaits.

stream of consciousness verse. that’s basically how my brain works. if you ever have a conversation with me in person, it’s not too different than reading my brain outbursts here & in my art journal.
disjointed thoughts
mixed metaphors
backstories
in all the wrong places….

but i digress! i am itching to get out of my cocoon. i feel like that is what my time here at my childhood home has been. i feel like that is what my submerging myself into my art journal exploration of my dark & drippy psyche has been.
i’ve written out all the parts of my brain that i can right now. i’ve written them out to make room for new thoughts.
revolutions & epiphanies await.
just have to shake free of the rest of this
chrysalis
rise from my tomb
& go.

for a front row seat to all the amazing things i will do…just a dollar a month, y’all.https://www.patreon.com/emjemccarty

stay

he saw my damage
he loved my damage
he wanted me to
stay
damaged…
i
i wanted
i wanted to heal
i wanted to fly
i wanted
to
be
free
he clipped
my wings
he built
my cage
he told me i should
stay
damaged
he did all he could
so i would stay
damaged
because
if i was damaged
i would
stay
his.

this was inspired by reading¬†mike’s manic word depot’s post “don’t want to be fixed.”

another take, i guess, on people in relationships trying to create the reality that works best for them–regardless of what is best for their partner.

i have been having a bunch of realizations (epiphanies if you will) about my relationship with the father of my children. lots of lots of stuff to dig through there.

(hey…if you are typing too fast & fuck up, “lots” turns into “lost”…which also makes me spin with epiphanies…just that word…lost….)

beauty & the beast

i stumble.
& when i do
i look to him
to catch me
& he’s all
“oops
butterfingers!”
as i go splat
sometimes
for good measure
he kicks me
while i am down
so why
when i stumble
every time i stumble
i still expect him to catch me?
why do i still
hold that burnt out
torch
why do i still whisper
“happily ever after…”
in my head
hearing that voice
“this time…
it will be different
this time…
he really has
changed”
so much  that i have employed
another voice
just to shout at me
“hey lady!
this ain’t fucking
beauty & the beast!”

don’t mind me. just working out some angst towards the ex. you know how it is. i think i’m almost done.
it’s that happily ever after that keeps me down.
not being able to let go of the dream of a perfect family. the great american sitcom family. yeah, there’s some rough times, but in the end, we all love each other.
except…
not.
no matter how i look at it. there is no possible way that what he thinks is love, is love. love doesn’t hurt people. go ahead, argue with me about it. but if you love someone. truly love someone. can you really rationalize hurting them? much less do it on pretty much a daily basis?
but, stupid me, it has taken a long time to learn this.
a lifetime of protecting myself enough just to fall on my face again when i believe a person has changed. when i believe a person actually loves me. when i believe a person couldn’t possibly hurt me…again….
sigh.
this ain’t fucking beauty & the beast.
yes, people can change.
but only if they want to.

emotional genius

emtionally
i’m a super
fucking
genius
intellectually…creatively…
well…
there are some pretty
significant
gaps
i do overtime
with my emotions
however
i tend to
skip over
skip out
sneak in
short cuts
when it comes to developing my
intellect
my skill…
lazy lazy lazy
me.

i wrote this after reading so so many well-thought out & highly intellectual pieces of writing.
then i was all like, “okay, don’t be so hard on yourself…i mean, you do a lot in a day. you aren’t lazy.”
but then i came back with…”do you know how many things i do half-assedly?”
and of course i know, because i am there to witness all the times in a day, in a week, in a year, in my lifetime, i pull something out of my ass or just go–“i bet this will work,” without doing the research or taking the time to learn more first.
i mean…i can’t even let my ink dry.
and then i’m all like, “fuck it, blurry ink is part of my style, y’all.”
fuck it.
my mantra.
fuck it.

but you know what i do spend a great deal of time doing thoroughly?
yes, being god-damned emotional and paying attention to my emotions as well as any emotional energy i feel floating in the ether around me as if emotions are the key to the universe.
i know emotions.
i’m not just emotionally intelligent–i am an emotional super genius.

a lightening

it is a release
a relief
a fucking
lightening
who knew how heavy
i was
holding him in
my heart
my penance
my sisyphean love
i’m free
broken free
of the cage
i’d built
myself.

 

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