I am hunting morels ( Read more... )

Outside

1. Years ago, I made a dress, a 14th century gown, slim down the sleeves, down the torso, and falling into this marvelous skirt. It was in this soft, draping fabric that shimmered alternately silver and lavender. In the summer, after night fell, I would put this dress on and twist my hair up with roses, then take my violin to a cemetery. I ( Read more... )

There's such a deep sadness in me, swelling like a hematoma inside my chest and even though I know clinically what it is that doesn't lessen the pressure any, and that somehow shifts the balance in the air around me until that internal pressure causes the external world to press in so hard. And that's when I get lost in the miseries of the past, ( Read more... )

It's the Confutatis maledictus and I tip my head back and listen, it's dark, softly damp velvet on my ears, the color of deep indigo purple, a fading bruise.

I haven't slept enough for days, for weeks now. I know this is part of the manic, I know this and I know just as certainly where this is heading. This movement tells me where it is heading ( Read more... )

We're all broken, shattered people moving along through unfolding days.

Do days really unfold? Does time fold? Can you take a year and make it smaller, condense it into a heartbeat? Can you unfold a perfect moment and make it last a lifetime?

Maybe.

I tell people that I am cold and distant. And really, I am. I tell people that I exhibit socio/ ( Read more... )

Psssssssst. Hey!
Hmm?
Remember me?
No. Go away.
Oh, come on. Yes you do. You just don't want to admit it.
Fine. I remember you. Now go away.
But I haven't been out in a long time.
I know. I've really enjoyed it. Please disappear.
Don't be silly. I never disappear; you just ignore me for awhile.That's because I hope that if I ignore you long enough ( Read more... )

The things I write here, most of them are experiences I have examined and dissected and journaled about extensively over the years, maybe even talked about at some point. This one, this...I have never written of it or spoken of it. It's fair to say I have refused to acknowledge the occurrence since it happened. I expect this to be fairly difficult ( Read more... )

I used to wear combat boots almost exclusively.

Of course, there were occasional deviations - stiletto heels or those knee-high fuck me boots I was inordinately proud of. Or no shoes at all (something I still do).

But combat boots, those were what I loved. I was particular about them. I'm always particular about anything and everything. I liked jump ( Read more... )

I think I had been clean a year....the time runs together for some periods of my life.

It's startling, really, because my recall for detail is immense generally. I am often nonplussed when I run headlong into these shady, bricked areas in my memory. It's foreign territory anymore; I stay out of those shadowy areas of my subconscious instead, stay on ( Read more... )

t was my first time cutting with you.
It is not my first time at all in this context. I have scars on my shoulders, almost identical, from a night in a cemetery many years ago. The summer after I met you, in fact. The boy in the cemetery with me was a diluted version of you, which everyone but me saw instantly.

But now, we are many years removed from ( Read more... )