moonlight epiphanies

moonlight epiphanies

maybe i cursed myself
not the moon
not a man
but me
i brought down
my mojo
locked it away
safe inside
keeping love
as a thing
i’ll never
meet.

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never fall again

never fall again

the last time we had sex
i could feel how much
you hated me
it oozed out of you
spat out of you
& froze my skin
burning me
the last time we had sex
i knew that you couldn’t
stop wanting me
but that you had forced yourself
to stop loving me
…needing me
the last time we had sex
you couldn’t get away
from me
fast enough
your touch was hostile
your eyes
empty.

never fall again. never feel that pain. that’s where my thoughts are these days. does he even remember me every valentine’s day? probably the fuck not. but here i am. broken-hearted.
always
broken-hearted.

maybe when i’m dead i will stop obsessing over him. or i will just go looking for him in my next life.

ack!
that’s one tattoo i leave out of every self-portrait. the tattoo i got for him…with him. the tattoo that hurt the most. and still hurts.
i think about getting it covered up…turned into something else.
maybe i would if i had some money.
so y’all should buy the book i illustrated so i have money to cover-up a tattoo that won’t let me forget where i left my heart.

fuck me.
we all know i’m never getting rid of this tattoo.

valentine’s heart

my heart
turned black
again
it waxes & wanes
the moon inside me
today it is a dark dark place
where neither
man nor beast
is welcome
it is heavy & cold
but also burning like
a demon’s fire
a storm no one will
survive.

yay! valentine’s day. shiny happy people and all that.
in my high school you used to be able to buy tissue paper flowers to be given to people you cared about. the color reflected the sentiment.
every year i thought, sure, i might get a flower this year.
nevery year did i get a flower. nevery.

but i still had hope.
i still waited for a valentine.
fucking charlie brown i was.

in my twenties i would make valentines and take them to the bar and hand them out to people i loved.
in my twenties my heart was broken into a million pieces…shortly after valentine’s day. broken in a way that a person like me doesn’t recover from.
it took me years
years
to realize how damaged i was
how damaged i had been
how much damage there was in my heart…
i am still learning about the damage that is me. twenty-two years later. twenty-two valentine’s days later.
figuring it out.

fuck.

casting my spell

i mixed the wax
melted it fast
yellow for communication
(i just wanted to hear his voice)
blue for protection
(i’m not sure this is a good idea)
red for love
passionate love
(maybe i should have skipped the red?)
& white for purity
in my intentions
(i just wanted to hear his voice)
in the end though
the candle
is a muddy color
an earth color
“same as my heart,” i think
as i cast my spell
i dip the wick
& dip it again
the needle intertwined within
& the candle that forms
from the muddy wax
looks like a potato
a sad potato
“same as my love,” i think
as i cast
my spell.

i keep showing up naked in these self-portraits. dude. i am rarely nude in real life. maybe my inner me would rather be naked?
i dunno.
but here i am.
lumpy & nude again.

& seriously, valentine’s day is the worst for me.
all i can do is remember my best…& my most terrible valentine’s day–just a year apart, with the same person.
a million years ago.
the best was when we went and got our matching ear piercings and flew balsa wood planes in the park.
the worst was when he gave me a pair of white doc martin wingtips that i had so so so desired…and i realized he was leaving me.
men always give me the good stuff
when there is something dark
in their heart.

shooting star

i am not
“down to earth”
i am not
“drama free”
i am human
i am messy
i am a comet
sparks
shoot out of my butt
as i rocket
through the stars….

yes. inspired by online dating & actually part of my profile before i shut that motherfucker down.

i am still off-kilter. drawing this was much more difficult than it should have been. my hands would not cooperate with my head. i can’t say what’s wrong with me right now…other than that i need to put it right.
i need to put me right.

but how to do that?
right?
how do you fix it when you don’t know for sure what is broken? or which part of the massive mess that is you needs some immediate & intensive care?

i listen to music. i stare out the window. i watch the snow fall. i keep the livestock’s water from freezing. i drink whiskey and wait for nightfall.
there it is…some of it anyway. i don’t seem to know what to do with myself when i am not playing the part of “mom.” though i battle with that role in my life…it is somewhat necessary for me to function. if i don’t have four squabbling minions to maneuver around, i don’t know how to collect my thoughts. i don’t know how to do art. i spend my days thinking they are preventing my life…when in fact they are shaping & enhancing my life. they are creating who i am.

if i ever do find that person who is missing from my life. that other part of me. if i ever find him (i think it must be a him,) he will have to be someone who eagerly craves the chaos that is my life.
another shooting star…or someone who has wished on one.

a slightly tilted me

something about me is off
a shifting
my magic is askew
yesterday
i was ignored by a librarian
& rebuffed by a mechanic
normally
strangers are strangely nice to me
yesterday…not so much
yesterday i forgot & left the lid
off of one of my temperamental pens
so intent i was on doing battle against
naughty cats
& my pen dried out
& my other pen wouldn’t work
& i felt as if my hands were cut off
yesterday i kept trying to continue a conversation
that i don’t know why i’m having it
but i keep trying to connect
where maybe there is no connection
maybe i am a solitary
witch
& maybe i mess it up
by fighting it
by always fighting
my life & ways….

i recently ordered a new copy of everyday magic & gave my old copy to my son. i ordered a used copy of it and when it arrived there were post-it notes marking all of the love spells. it’s weird. you would think that whoever brought in the used books would have removed all of these post-its. they are sticking out of the book all over the place…. i felt sad for the previous owner of the book. so desperate to find love…and apparently she gave up.
then i started to wonder. maybe the post-its are for me? maybe i was sent a book full of love spells for a reason? maybe i am doing this all wrong? my life….

i feel like i am doing everything all wrong lately.
trying to online date. exposing myself to the callousness of strangers. making myself too too too vulnerable.
trying to connect with people on facebook (yes, i am back on facebook because i am trying to promote mistress of mud–a lovely lovely book i illustrated)
however, i joined a women homesteaders group recently on facebook. because, well, i’m a woman. i homestead. i am desperate for community. and then i’m over-connecting. it’s weird. this fine line for me. wanting to connect…but not wanting so much exposure. wanting to be noticed while i stay safely invisible.
commenting & posting, i feel over-connected.
exposed.
and i start to wonder if i should just say “fuck it” & get off of this over-connected mass of loneliness we call the internet. live in real time.
(but here i am…blogging about it instead)

and i was contacted by a guy on okcupid. it went against two of my rules for me to contact him back. his profile picture (& only one) was of him shirtless in bed. my “eww” rule. also, he had barely written anything on his profile & he had only answered the minimum of match questions. so i couldn’t do my “deal breaker” look-see in his match questions. like guys who don’t believe in evolution…or racist/sexist guys…or anti-feminism guys. that sort of thing. oh! guys who think you should never be comfortable farting around each other. what the what?
so i broke my rules to contact him back. why? he’s a redhead. something in the way he looks in what may or may not be his real profile picture.
so i message him to see what he wants.
he says he would “love” a conversation.
so i try to start one…& he won’t let me. every time i try to start a conversation, he responds in the bare minimum of words possible.

i think he might be an alien.

so that up thar is a picture of my first black lamb with her daddy. i always wanted a black lamb. ever since i was a little girl named “mary.”

IMG_0577

here is her twin with his mama.
lambs are so cute.
i look at them & think, “how am i supposed to eat you?”
like i’m the big bad wolf.

so i need to figure out what is askew in my energy. too much alcohol while the minions are away? over-exposing my solitary witchy ways to the world at large via internet? still not being able to embrace chaos though i have cats & kids & goats eager to be my companions on that path? running away from myself?
am i running away from myself?
who am i?
who am i?
what do i want?

fuck a duck.

all of me

i just wanted
to see
if i could fill up a page
with me.

(i like this one–i don’t always like my self-portraits–but i really really like this one)

i am feeling a bit overwhelmed by the online dating. trying not to become jaded with all the ickiness of it…but still keeping it as a viable option for having (at the very least) a conversation.
however
much like grade school
no one i’ve liked has liked me back.
so i fill up a page with me.
here i am!

don’t forget! if you love (or even just like it) my art, you can now buy a book that i illustrated: mistress of mud