being…

I need not to think

 but just rest in knowing this moment

 for the past is no longer

and the future yet to be

I do not need to think

I may rest in this knowing of now

because to think is to develop expectation

and expectation is to focus on the non exisiting

( both past and future)

and to live in the past or the future

is not opening

is not flowering

is not spreading seeds

nor perfume

in the present moment

and to not be in the moment of now

is limiting

is suppression

is not breathing pure existence

but rather weighted in illusion

I need not to think

but to only be

 

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in the midst of resting…

There is something healing about stepping back, stepping away, looking in another direction, laying down the heavy baggage and resting. I suppose I am still in the midst of such a respite. It has been, and still is emotionally tumultous but I wouldn’t change a thing! I know it is for my greatest good. I recognize the synchronicities, feel the abundance welling within…I know it leads to everything good and just, and is divinely guided.

I’m not haunted. I’m no longer running from nor chasing ghosts. I’m setting them free! Yet, I will never forget the beauty of each shiver, every lick of the whip, every whisper of deeply held pain! I ask that it stays cleaved to me so that I might never forget, to remember, to understand what others go through, to give my experience and my pain a voice, and to say to those in similar territories…”I know!” “I understand!” “I feel you!””I see you!”

How can I explain this journey? The path only illuminated by faith! The details unbelievable…unexplainable! To tell my truth, this unfathomable truth will come if only I never resist. The words will come when they are ready. I know my heart is healing, and it is a living, breathing, beautiful entity to carry within my chest. And my soul? Oh my ancient beautiful soul…”I know!” “I understand!” “I feel you!” “I see you!”

 

undrained love…

Even if you waste me
my love
this love
it doesn’t fade
I try to undeliver it
to numb 
to unplug 
and drain myself
yet it is impossible
I just lay inside this deep pool
love spills over
recirculating 
you could stay away
for a millennia
come back to my edge
and drink in this love
for it never stagnates
never dissipates
pours out
stirring 
beautifully…
endlessly 

a waterfall of words…and words spread amongst my ground and grow

Pay attention
pay attention screams
my intuition

soil dry
my soul
long have I 
neglected tilling
too busy trying 
to grow from stone
failing on the outskirt 
I have forgotten
the seeds within
growing things will crack open
spring forth life
from within
uprooting earth 
layering the ground 
not without water,
not without light
having never doubt
it’s  grand design 
flower and bloom 
feed & cover the world 
I neglected my soil
my soul I am unforgivable 
forgetting to love you 
left forgotten
untilled
you have only been alone
toiling in the dark
this mind has blocked your sun
and the water of tears only
falls to my pillow 
no more are you
in the shadows
darkened by neglect

dead in weeds 
they can’t feed you
but I can
sweet water can ammend 
adjust postion 
transition
into garden
bee to kiss bloom
to feed
circle our our world 
and others

sweet death of a rose…


May death be sweet
like that of a dying rose
past her prime
when molecular structure is chaos
and her heart only knows
to fold and shut in

each petal breaks apart from stem
her last vein severed
though her fragrance lingers
her perfume long lay breathing

shall you watch her 
release her frame
this life inside her aching 
to sustain her worth
and to what moment 
does she finally herald
love, let go…
(don’t…not yet)

May her death be sweet
inhale her one last time
achingly embrace her
beautiful loss in goodbye 
yet do not not leave her 
unattended in her decay 
wondering the reason
of her bloom
 

watering…

I swallowed your drug 
and I’m rushing 
undeniablely climbing higher
a coursing sea in my blood
wrapping blanket of wanting warmth 
swarming my chest
rapid beats beating
flooding my ears
this ocean
you…coming into me
I store you
like I’m your home and
everyother port to moor
a lone tiger lily
stretching for your sun
opening
slowly
coyly 
welcoming you
dare enter my very deep
Drive into me
my wrists ache 
thighs quiver
my mouth thirsty
craving another dose
unending need
drowning in this willacy
don’t stop…

water me

love

 

this collage…

Did the scent of our love linger long 
cupped in your palm
I remember that day
you flipped your handover
that’s when I fell
broken
shattered
littered the floor 
with diamonds from my eyes
that once held you
You could have swallowed me
tucked me safely away
I could still be the thrum in your veins
but you couldn’t…
am I in your memory or
just outside of it
a cast off into the pyre
perhaps I am scales over your eyes
you feel my roughness
a little bit of jaggedness 
gnawing your fingertips 
maybe I haunt you
stir the sea of togetherness 
your ghostwriter on your tongue 
embedded in your pen 
should I toss a coin in the fountain
make a wish upon a blue moon
would that cast a spell 
that I might awaken in you again
Or candles, should I ignite
one
ten
a thousand
Lay the lightness
of my body across your alter
offer my heart a sacrifice
bleed beguiling
black magic perennials 
lining out my grave
No I don’t want eternity without you
but if you could 
give me one more second
another moment
gaze into my eyes
keep your hand reaching
teach me to kneel proper 
take to my wrist as that of perfume 
inhale me deep
wipe me from your lips
savor the last tear drop
strip me of something 
whatever it was you found stained 
so incomplete 
you couldn’t taste all of me
or didn’t bother to gather my words 
pooling in the shallows
you looked away in the silver glow 
touching sands 
slipping through your fingers
in the ebbing hours
this heavy door won’t budge
take your time to open it
or better yet filleted me 
so your fingers can know
my guttural moans
as you steal the marrow of me
rain anymore is slanted
comes at me sideways
or am I just tilted
off kilter
imbalanced
make-believe figures 
my pinks to your blues
in a twisted scene of life 
there’s detours
are we distilled 
perhaps we’re sunrise
early morning light and 
you forgot to flip the switch on
Just maybe…
…perhaps I am dead of winter 
blood stained snow…numbed
or red cherry blossoms spring
bluebird song with a broken heart
or I am abandoned in the summer breeze
golden silence with chipped
pretty orchid nail polish 
maybe I have ran out of words
empty of the feels
or I am just beginning to mourn 
or no longer anything 
or perhaps…
I’m this collage of before and after
yet still in the present of everything you ever needed 

waterfalling…

I started to write this to whom I consider a friend. He would read this and I feel never place judgement…It is in that I trust and in that sense I’m able to be vulnerable to him…there was more I thought I was going to say to him, but as I started spilling my words  I realized I was just purging. Not directly addressing him, but ripping open another layer of scarring.So I just gathered my words and brought them here. My writing place to dwell, to write, to be, to breathe, to become and to let go…

You are lost in dreams by now and my night draws near…I am emptying… Purging…of what I do not know…Perhaps contempt or hurt, or pain that has long been a stranglehold. Perhaps my guard says let this light in, reveal what you hide in the dark still. And I want to…I still leave me parts of me in the darkness. Because when I let her out, just as her eyes have adjust, just as her strength returns, there appears thieves that rip at her (my)heart… And she (I) retreat in shame having trusted. Yet I remain. “Here I am!” But who am I?

I’ve never really found who I was until I started writing. I never knew how painful writing could be. How mournful it is to see this part of yourself that just falls out with murdering clarity. Never seeing how much you’ve remain hidden inside your learned behaviors. Never realizing just how much power you have to change it all. And then, with each word written, as you place it on the page, you begin to to see this truthfulness. Slowly coming into view as you peel away layers upon layers of scar tissue.

It’s a bloody massacre, hacking at yourself, chopping limbs, stabbing your eyes, your ears, your own heart with bluntness. Then you slice your neck, your wrist, your inner thigh to release the pressure of pain. And briefly you are freed, but also made aware of the strength of chains that tether you. 

Yet as much as it is painful it is equally beautiful. I’ve seen changes in me. That what I once thought ugly and shameful,  is in truth, something quite astoundingly exquisite.

I rather like this aspect of me. This creature that unfurls into the liquid warmth of my pen…tantalizing my lungs to breathe, seducing my heart to beat, lightening awakening my sex, torture and pleasure pain to my mind!

I’ve felt my roots grow longer in search of fresh flowing water and I began to drink. Refresh my thirst…
grow
reach
bloom
become
I’m awakening to things I know that are in the depth of me. Of things I’m certain I need to be whole and complete 

I have yet found them all. As I age I know there will  be growth, and my needs and wants will change. Before I was never certain of what it was I wanted. Call me a late bloomer. Even now I feel as a toddler taking some very unstable first steps. Wobbleing, waiting to fall flat on my ass. I do question so much of myself… Especially to the extent of my utmost desires. I think there is so much more inside me undiscovered. 

For now, what I feel to be at the core of my soul, what I believe to be my greatest desire is to let someone see every speck, every tiny little dirty fragment of me. And have them say…

Oh my love, you are everything dark and mysterious, light and glorious…I am in love with you…in every dimension, in every lifespan, in every skin. I am my beloved’s…

❤️M