Remember as kids
Hanging out in the yard
We never did
Those things promised from the start
Bitter ends
Keep us blinded in the dark
Silver pens
To trace the outlines of our loss

Something very special is happening to the world right now.  I will do my best to describe it.
Not only are we nearing the peak of suffering, darkenss, and evil in the world, we are also
nearing a complete unfolding of the purest, truest, beauty, peace, and love that is greater
than humanity has ever experienced.  This is truely a cathartic time.  Savor it, treasure it, and learn from it.

On a personal level, since January 1st, 2015, I feel like my soul is on the brink of simulatenously bursting with
joy and love as well as sobbing in old hurts.  Sometimes when the pain and love in our hearts reaches a critical
level, a major emotional release is made and that is called a catharsis.  I have been riding along one giant,
prolonged catharsis since Jan 1st.  It is somewhat like a fantastic ****** that never ends.  How bad can that be?

The best part of my life right now is not knowing what will happen next; whom I will meet tomorrow; and what
crazy, amazing situation I will find myself in.  I have this unshakeable and deep feeling that 2015 will be a pivotal
year in my life.  It is like passing through the eye of a needle, and on the other side is the unventured, the unknowable,
the great mystery.  This is both a terror and also completley thrilling.  I sense that 2015 will be a year to remember
for humanity.  Whatever happens, will have some measurable mark on all of us.

So what do I do with this?

Enjoy it. :-)

There is no understandin' for Crazy Makin'
                It just is, what it is, what it is...
There is no formula to fix things so broke
                It just is, what it is, what it is...

There are no words to express,
when the shootin' starts and your the target.
All you can do is take cover and hope your
ear drums don't pop.
When you become the focus of all
disappointment and anger...
No way to rest in that.
No way to heal there. 
No way to breath comfortably any more...

Where do we find the strength to escape.
Put our blown up parts back together again.
What if we are too ****** and damaged
to connect the pieces.
How do you mend a heart ripped to shreads
I ask this....

What then,
What then... Cuz,
               It just is what it is what it is....


Copyright © 2014 Christi Michaels.
All Rights Reserved.

A vast Land, dotted with thoughts and Ideas,
Scripted in Hand, Penned with Altruist Zeal.
Paragraphs Written in Hills, and in Valleys,
Taking a Path through Drama and Passion.
Leading you through Dark City Alleys...
To Scenes of Crime and Dark Actions,
Cowered in Fear, Shadows Causing Reactions.
You feel your Skin Crawl at the Draw of a Knife,
Shocked at the Sight of a Passing Life.
You Cling to the Arms of the One you Love,
The Feelings between You from Heaven above.
The Pleasure you feel at the Touch of your Lips,
As the Wind ***** the Sails of a Yar and sleek Ship.
True love Flares up at the setting sun,
And Finally the Poems End has Come.....JMF 1/12/15

i.
lovely cigarette
cradled in soft fingers,
inhaled by
smoky lips,
tempting me.

ii.
fingertips grazing
over velvet skin,
traveling with the grooves \
of my body,
electrocuting me.

iii.
darkness engulfs
heaving bodies. '
breath heavy,
hushed moans cut off
by hot kisses,
soothing me.

iv.
one last cigarette,
ending satisfaction.
crooked grins.
smoke swirling above,
embracing me.

I would love you like an ocean. I would shift into a tidal wave for the shore of your hands. You would shape yourself into me like the sand does for the sea.

I would love you like a warm fire on a cold Sunday afternoon. I would warm your cold fingertips after a weary week. You would feel the wisps of my hair on your warm skin like the wisps of a comforting flame, and we would be at home.

I would open up your veins and set up shop inside each and every chamber of your heart. I would run my fingers along the lining of your soul and show you that you cannot stain my skin black, that I will not let you, that you are as much of a map as I am and that I will walk brave into the unknown and place my palm on the essence of you.

I would make myself a river basin for you. You could pour yourself into me and I would not send you back to the clouds. Let me be your anchor, let me pull you down into the embrace of my arms, let me calm you down and kiss you into a fervor and make you a home in the fresh white skin of my scars.

I would love you with so much force and equally as much softness. Just let me.

Perception is something of wonder.
      I see black and she sees pink.
                                 She feels warm and I feel empty.
Not necessarily opposite.                                            
                                                 Not necessarily similar.
An offset of brainwaves and past events.
      Might as well be fire and skin.
                    Might as well be the start to my half way.
Because life is not different.
                                                  Because life is not close.
Perception is a thing of infinity.
And there is nothing to do about it.