A different kind of meditation.

Drinking black ink into black pores.

A way of settling the score,
with oneself.

A shadow of doubt,
for whim or for clout,
leeching and dripping from the rusty spout.

Through pain and through triumph,
head beating, heart bleating.

When can we do this again?

It's not like I can hide under the toadstool.

I never became cool, became hip.

But I'm nothing like my replacement.

Changing jobs, changing guys.

Changing who I can rely
on.

Today was weird.
Today was out of body.

Out of mind
out of spirit.

Am I a little daddies girl for **

Or am I
the one you can
find on

google.

The answer is neither.

See you later.
See you never.

They told me my work would be burnt to the crisp.

And yet here it is on the internet.

Like a drop of sun,
on my tongue.

Change blisters like
scorching summers.

Different seasons,
different lovers.

Missing our kin,
missing our mothers.

Under the weather,
under the covers.

Sleet black tears,
****** sheets,
ringing ears.

But we've gotten over
our biggest fears.

I see you silent raver,
quaint in the night.

I hear you secret lover,
out of mind out of sight.

Bathe in darkness, reign in light.

//

I am no longer among the fallen.

I think I must have writers block.

Because I can't even talk clearly.

There are no words in my mouth. They don't drip from my tongue the way they used too.

Everything is always so cloudy.

And I feel like I like it that way.

A cloudy mind doesn't have time to cry.

A cloudy mind doesn't have time to feel.

Except for when I do.

When I break down,

shaking.

My love wraps her arms around me,
comforts me.

And yet I still feel like a failure.

Drowning sailor.

I need a new sense of clarity.    

Breaking down can feel like

The depths of the pool,
A silence unlike others.
Strange faint echoing.
Feeling limitless, weightless.
Savoring, then ascending.

Sweet Summer time breeze
It's been a rainy season
I'm not complaining
The droplets on the windows
Remind me of better days

I miss driving with you.

Cruising down summer roads,
any roads
music up.

You ask me to
play you music that
I used to play when driving.

But I can't remember
any of those songs.

I miss the feeling,
the feeling of the steering wheel
beneath my wrists.

Miss the sounds and smells
Miss the feeling of being carefree.

We need a car of our own.
So I can drive you around
again.

My drivers license is sitting unused
after years of abuse.

I want to be your driver,
be your chariot.

There was something so sweet
about the in between moments.

Something I thought only I noticed.

But she noticed too.
In her minds eye.

She sees me see her,
hand on thigh.

I just want to drive her again.
I want to buy her a Mercedes Benz.

Just to chase those moments.

The ones in between.

Between home and destination.
Between heart and palpation.