(no subject)
finally
Tonight, I have things to say. I have things to say, here, with my teeth unfolding like petals and my tongue wet with siren's spit. I've had things to say for weeks, months, maybe even years. Oodles and loads of things that bear remarkable characteristics and lap at the base of my spine. The meat there is the sweetest, and I've always liked my sweet-things being hidden, yet accessible. My last entry, I said there would be lots of entries. There were. There are. I'd been sitting on them, waiting until a time when I felt safe and less time-constrained. The time factor is still difficult, but I'm tired of hiding in soft-shadows because someone (or a couple of someones) make me feel violated here. That sounds ambiguous, I realise, but rest assured, it has to do with real-life factors and not Internet ones. Besides, I'm full of ambiguity. It's how you like to eat me best. How he likes to devour me, also.
The entire time I've been away, I kept on reading everyone's journals. I'm ever so curious about your lives and the way you live them. I've come to some fairly large conclusions about my existence and made tons of break-throughs everywhere else. For those keeping track, I am still in mad-love and deeper than when I last posted. The funny thing about love is that our capacity to embrace and hold it grows as we age. The love I thought I had at eighteen or nineteen is not nearly what this one is now. That isn't to say that younger people cannot feel love; babies know love, damnit. What I mean is that my ability to love and be loved unconditionally has expanded. I'm not the girl I once was, yet I bear some of the same characteristics. I am that girl, too, still, always. Sometimes, I cannot believe that I'm still alive, but I'm grateful for the chance to make mistakes, to love and be loved, to howl at the moon and cars, and generally make a ruckus or be as quiet as I'd like when I need to be. I've entered a season of quiet and I quite like it. I've never had so much stillnes around me or slept more than ten hours at a stretch with a lover. Nightmares always kept me on the brink of awakening.
I've awakened, though, and the roses are so large and their thorny teeth (nooses) have been replaced by everything good. I am awake. I breathe. I am learning another human being and it's one of the most beautiful and terrifying experiences I've ever known. But, there is no place that I'd rather be. No where but here. I am here. I've been home for weeks, even when I was on the road. Later, I'll fill your bellies with more than these sly statements. There's games afoot, as ever. Did you expect it to be any other way? How could it be? Not with me, little me with messy bed hair and enormous hoop earrings and the smell of love on cat-like hands.
More later, you insatiable thrillseekers,
jewel-muse
Tonight, I have things to say. I have things to say, here, with my teeth unfolding like petals and my tongue wet with siren's spit. I've had things to say for weeks, months, maybe even years. Oodles and loads of things that bear remarkable characteristics and lap at the base of my spine. The meat there is the sweetest, and I've always liked my sweet-things being hidden, yet accessible. My last entry, I said there would be lots of entries. There were. There are. I'd been sitting on them, waiting until a time when I felt safe and less time-constrained. The time factor is still difficult, but I'm tired of hiding in soft-shadows because someone (or a couple of someones) make me feel violated here. That sounds ambiguous, I realise, but rest assured, it has to do with real-life factors and not Internet ones. Besides, I'm full of ambiguity. It's how you like to eat me best. How he likes to devour me, also.
The entire time I've been away, I kept on reading everyone's journals. I'm ever so curious about your lives and the way you live them. I've come to some fairly large conclusions about my existence and made tons of break-throughs everywhere else. For those keeping track, I am still in mad-love and deeper than when I last posted. The funny thing about love is that our capacity to embrace and hold it grows as we age. The love I thought I had at eighteen or nineteen is not nearly what this one is now. That isn't to say that younger people cannot feel love; babies know love, damnit. What I mean is that my ability to love and be loved unconditionally has expanded. I'm not the girl I once was, yet I bear some of the same characteristics. I am that girl, too, still, always. Sometimes, I cannot believe that I'm still alive, but I'm grateful for the chance to make mistakes, to love and be loved, to howl at the moon and cars, and generally make a ruckus or be as quiet as I'd like when I need to be. I've entered a season of quiet and I quite like it. I've never had so much stillnes around me or slept more than ten hours at a stretch with a lover. Nightmares always kept me on the brink of awakening.
I've awakened, though, and the roses are so large and their thorny teeth (nooses) have been replaced by everything good. I am awake. I breathe. I am learning another human being and it's one of the most beautiful and terrifying experiences I've ever known. But, there is no place that I'd rather be. No where but here. I am here. I've been home for weeks, even when I was on the road. Later, I'll fill your bellies with more than these sly statements. There's games afoot, as ever. Did you expect it to be any other way? How could it be? Not with me, little me with messy bed hair and enormous hoop earrings and the smell of love on cat-like hands.
More later, you insatiable thrillseekers,
jewel-muse