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.)

big love

i’m willing
to love big
to love strong
i’m able
to love big
to love strong
i want to
love big
love strong
i need to
love big
love strong….
so what happens
when you push
that love away
refuse to love me
back
big & strong
what happens
to that love
what happens
to me?

i swear i have a big heart. i want to dote on someone & help them feel special. but how can i when i am treated poorly? then he thinks i’m some cold hearted bitch because i pull away. he thinks i reject him…but if i hadn’t of felt rejected, i would have been amazing.

why so bitter

i find myself
wondering
what i did
that i do not
deserve
happiness
what did i do
that i don’t
get to taste
sweetness
what is it
about me
that screams
“so very not
special”?

with the crashing & burning of yet another attempt to reconcile with dusty…i find myself in this mindset.
why do i allow men/relationships to take me for granted? why don’t i get flowers & fawning?
what is it about me….
this has been something that is deep in the bones of me. do i expect to be treated this way? is that why it is so difficult for me to demand more?

sour

at least i have my art journal….
feeling that desperate pull of loneliness as i miss being able to reach out to dusty.
he’s still there, of course, pretending nothing happened
but it did happen
he did break my heart again
i have to remind myself…
it’s not safe to pretend nothing happened.

gesundheit

i am in a terrible funk.
i feel like, in the words of richard marx, i should have known better.
why do i always hope this time is different?
am i just that desperate?
also i find myself wondering,
why does the patriarch spit out such a soul-crushing mentality in men?

inside me

to say the ex & i have communication problems is an understatement.
but i find like i feel like i’m being buried alive when i try & try & try to communicate–& the other party only hears what they want to hear.
i don’t know what to do.
do i give up?
or do i keep screaming?

lemonade

i don’t like feeling
defeated
by life
i want
instead
to be one of those
elastic
people
that bad stuff
just bounces
off
as they find
the positive
go
forth
& conquer
turning their frown
upside
down
& lemons
into
lemonade
instead
i have to hunker
down
gather my resources
& wait
for the sun
to come back out.

as i stated yesterday…vague references to current events….
ironically, as politics try to cut me off from my fellow humans…my introverted ass is out of the house joining community resistance groups & looking for straight from farm sources for food as i refuse to join in to the politics of covid.
it’s that or lay on my couch & cry.
ack.
trust me, i know what i’m doing.

love letters & mermaid memories

i know y’all have been missing my so-called poetry….so here’s one i wrote yesterday (since i have not yet gotten my mojo pages in order….)

i am not going
to mail
this letter
i am not going
to hit “send”
blasting
my words
like confetti
in a storm
something that my primate brain
can accept
but can never
understand
so easily
&
instantly
bathing my victim
in my obsessive loneliness
despite his being many miles
away
many worlds
apart
from me
how many times
have i written this letter
how many people have looked away
as i exposed myself
pen on paper
fingers on a keyboard
my stupid message
in a stupid bottle
my longing to be heard
to be understood
by some
warm
body
somebody
am i special
to think someone
could love me
an impossible
thing
that comes so easily
to everyone else

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