I would rather stay in my head with all of its symbolism. Blood is symbolic for life, not freshly spilled or trickling from dying lips -- and if so, how beautiful that is!

How beautiful it all is!

Last night dreams of indigenous cultures, wonderful colors. Under a canopy of trees, prayer flags leading up to a break where the sun squeezed itself in ( Read more... )

It is cold in my room. Fall is finally upon us. It came in the middle of the night, I heard it banging against my window. I slept with three blankets on top of me, and Arthur found his way into the crevice of my neck and dug his face into my hair. Arthur is still laying beside me, trembling. I still have not been able to differentiate  his tremors ( Read more... )

Some deep sadness has risen within me once again. But it is that sadness that I love. It is beautiful and tender and gives me a will to live again. Some realization of the flowers. Of the seasons . Oh! Why am I crying now? In my head I list off names of the people I have loved. Before I fall asleep, I run through them. Orchids long withered, ( Read more... )

My blinds are letting long, filmy strands of sunlight onto my legs. I want to draw them upwards, thrust open the window, let the atmosphere fill my room ( Read more... )

This day has been truly awakening. I woke at four in the morning to run. I am trying to be disciplined. It was the usualy euphoria I get, although that isn't the right word. It is connection... I understand now that I truly... experience ... in my tradition what is called the Holy Spirit, be that what it may to anyone else. Some sense of love and ( Read more... )

I need a release, a cleansing, a purging of myself. I am not sure how to get about it. Last night my dreams were such a wonderful reprieve from the constant guilt that is now burning in my mind. I was in an open plaza, a small one, with a square of wrought iron balconies which looked down on me. It was dark, but not daunting. The sky was a deep ( Read more... )

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I can't help but feel terrified now. After my sickness I lay down and slept a good five hours. I dreamt of terrors again, at first being raped. Then being placed in my old house's garage. My mother was sick, mad with fever, being vulgar and staring at me the way she did when she was manic: unblinking, terrified, demonic. I lit the garage on fire ( Read more... )

Strangest sort of mood today, I supposed that is why I have the sudden urge to write... which lately has been rarely fueled by inspiration.. more often confusion. I thought of writing a short story about the bird shit on my dads truck window... how it changed as the scenery came to pass, at one point a slight stain on the lime stone over pass... ( Read more... )

Now, I am afraid. The security that lies in this house... and what security is that? The remnants of what it should be, at least. And happiness that is starting to come back. Unity between us all. Its true that last week I felt that presence again, I woke up in a sweat, I scrambled to find myself. But that's rare now... The small sense of security ( Read more... )