In the meantime I'll be a sweet pus. 
I'll nestle and purr.
And let you weep woes into my pristine fur.
But in my dreams
I'll trace a razored nail across your throat.
I'll taunt you with death. 
I'll be sour and sinister.
And I'll think in extremes.
For the meantime. 
Now I've suffered.
I've simmered in pain.
And now I find myself screaming, "What can I do?"
"Just remember."
I am the inch worm.
I am the sweet and sour pus. 
I am the girl birthed of love
and nurtured by fear.
And I am always remembering myself.

We are the seeds in the shadow. 
We are all we are just now. 
We are dormant.
We are waiting. 
We are agitated.
We are restless.
We are itching our way out of our skins.
We are learning to set forth. 
We are outstretching.
We are reaching towards ourselves.
We are water.
We are light. 
We are the seeds in the shadow.

I've never been one to get on my knees.
At least not for Jesus.
But that was still a sort of worship.
I often didn't care for it.
But I "knew" it would give you a reason to love me. 
That **** is earned 
and served cold. 
I took some months off 
and was asked:
WWJ(ulia)D
Hail yourself sweet sugar.

I have found this feeling again.
It is Sunday.
There is no plan. 
No schedule.
No deadline. 
Nothing to keep me tethered.
So now I'm lost in space. 
And I can't seem to focus.
I am not a regimented being.
But I crave it.
A directive from above. 
Ladybugs trapped between the glass and screen
find their death upon my floor. 
I feel your plight little ones.
But it's no bother to you.
It just is.
And here I am.
Learning how to do the same. 
This conversation is always worth having.
And today I'll have it with the dead ladybugs below my feet. 
I flip through and feel myself flow as the ink does.

Wind whips 
and blows dryness in my face.
The sun is playing peek-a-boo.
There's a chill to it.
Jets fly low and booming.
I'm on the fifth row.
Moving from bundle to soil. 
Hands craving moisture.
Nails taking on a light brown hue.
Body unsure of these positions. 
Fingers probing.
It's been hours 
and there are hours to go. 
This is the way of it. 
The over and over. 
Refining.
Transforming. 
And unpleasantness,
discipline. 
Learnt at the school of candy onions. 


.

Slippery vibrations
work ways through.
Sick solo on the ear drums.
And its smooth going down.
Slips right in.
No trouble to it. 
And now gentle waves cozy in. 
High dive off.
That beat lands deep in the root of it.
And booms from there.
Sending forth a song one line long.
And of the upmost import.
"Feed sweetness to your ears and let your body ride."

Wavering in a state of unease.
And I cant put my finger on it. 
In the daylight.
Waves of restlessness sweep these shores. 
"Please, no more."
Down water crashes. 
Churning and pulling. 
I am looking at myself. 
Drenched.
Smiling. 
I can't help but smile back.
And love her.
I am aware.
I am specific.
I am love.
Even after a day of too much and not enough.
I will always make my way here.
Back home. 
I am my teacher. 
And I am hard.
And fair.
And kind.
And always pushing outward.
This love knows no bounds.

Done up in smoke.
Sticky, sweet, smooth.
A waxy coating for the soul. 
Bask in the frequency that grants freedom.
For the moment.
It's an odd space to be in.
Learning of freedom.
Watching the faces and hearts of experiences past. 
A time line, collapsed. 
Torched.

I was scoped up.
Cradled in the palm of it. 
Wrapped in warming isolation.
Safe in a cozy cover of fear. 
Well today I hung up my housecoat for a moment.
And sought sunlight.
It was just as warm.
Jolting.
My housecoat hung upon a nail awaiting my return. 
I did as such. 
For a time.
Time passed as it's ought to. 
I retired my housecoat once more.
But to be worn again. 
This is a new dance to me.
An evolution upon a well worn frock. 
New golden satin with lace trim.
Worn proudly.
Hung proudly.
For both be
an opportunity of love.

Bite down fast and hard.
To keep the words down. 
To keep the lid on tight.
To smother the flame.
To tame the dragon. 
Bite down on that ****. 
Don't you dare allow it passage.
For the world is too fragile for fury.
And truth.
And natural consequences. 
**** that!
(but a tiny "**** that" to start off with)
A single tendril of smoke escapes.
I don't care if you can't see me anymore.
I can still see you. 
I won't blame you.
For I am no victim.
And neither are you.
So **** this!

Cheers!
To a step.
To fear upturned. 
To flight. 
To the settling calm.
To the sea forever raging. 
To the ache that burns.
To the remedy in the mirror. 
To the glass I'll never fill again.
To scraping the bowl clean. 
To this pounding haze.
To the dissipating fog. 
To open spaces.
To water straight from the ground.
To this rising peace.
To the fire that has been lit of love.
To it all.
Cheers!

To the man buying dozens of yogurt cups. 
I have let you in.
These grounds are not secure. 
The floor has been breached. 
The fortress walls scaled. 
We've been boarded. 
But it's no assault.
I felt it coming
and lay out a red carpet. 
Sweeping dust away. 
For your feet shall fall upon no soil. 
I retreat into turmoil.
A message is whispered into every one of my cells. 
"Traitor," I would yell at the mirror.
But today I found a mechanism. 
A peculiar thing.
So I set the door
and vacuumed up the space. 
It all felt silent
and I expanded within it.
To the man buying dozens of yogurt cups.
Enjoy your packaged pus.
I'll be on my way.

Moving through like a freight train.
Light on the move. 
A cheetah with a six speed engine. 
Cutting static with a lightening bolt. 
A quickening heart. 
A laser beam to there.
There. 
I can put my finger on it.
Can breathe it in.
Can relish in it. 
But 
I 
know
I will never be there.
I can be here,
here
or here.
But there doesn't exist.
I exist too much sometimes.
And always more than there.
But always in here.

In that moment
there was a feeling. 
It burrowed in
and condensed into a tight ball of dust. 
Then it exploded. 
Spreading out. 
Reaching tentacles to far corners.
Wrapping roots. 
Breaking pavement. 
A chemical reaction of the volatile kind. 
A thorn coated call. 

She was shook. 
Mistook a sly smile for a grimace
and took to the cold.

Ice plated girl.
Overlooking from an ice plated terrace. 
Her vantage skews the scene.
She trembles 
and dreams in red. 

Silly girl.
Forgot of such things as shears.

The lie is that
I'll step away.
I'll stomp.
Tricks to make myself 
second guess and forgo my fall.

The truth is that
arms outstretched 
welcome this heavy heart.

These arms of mine.
Always were.
Always.

Little eyes. 
In little windows.
Heat always rises. 
Face painted red.
Brain melting
and running out of my mouth. 
Makes my words stick together 
and come out mushy.
Peach pits in my stomach.
Tear through the gut. 
Twisting.
Contracting.
Restricting.
Screaming.
Wait...
SCRE­AMING!
So I listen.
Today I put my ear to the glass.
Lies,
opportunity
and a choice. 
Little eyes.
In little windows.
Come see me.

High waisted red dress pants.
Stripped crop top. 
90's chunk shoes. 
70's suede jacket with the faux fur trim. 
I am ******* glorious. 
I walk amidst you.
And I lose traction. 
I swallow a stone
and sink. 
Sink.
Sink.
Sink.
Cover me in crustaceans.
Let me fill with water.
I won't catch my breathe this time. 
I am blue.
I am raging toward you 20 feet tall. 
I am rolling in and out. 
The moon is my girl
and I'll serenade her tonight.
Sweet is this sorrow. 
And I a song I've sung. 
But half asleep 
and half in space.
Now the words,
sharp,
crisp,
pointing.
Close your eyes,
breathe your wave,
tingle
and sink.

In a state of being exposed.
Bring forth thyself and bare it.
Within the dark slimy chasm called "us" I've plucked shame.
Too naked for my liking.
Clothes of conformity fit perfectly.
But the tag's not been cut.
Oh, it's irritating!
But in a way that festers quietly and often unobserved.   
It doesn't like being ignored. 
It needs my attention.
So it twists. 
And morphs.
And contorts. 
And it all just gets weird.
I'm lost now in a wacky space.
On a road that doesn't exist and goes nowhere.
I wander through.
Propelled by some mysterious innate drive. 
I find more roads that don't exist and go nowhere.
But seemly by chance I find a hole.
It's existence appears fluid.
Slightly opaque.
And within, 
a note.
Waiting. 
"The ******* tag man!"
THE ******* TAG!
I pull.
I yank.
I bite at it. 
But the ***** won't budge.
So I consult the universe in regards to a remedy for this pesky passenger. 
This way will work.
Until it doesn't. 
This is it.
Until it is not.
Someone yells,
(although I think it was me?)
"LOOK at the tag!"
And wouldn't you know it 
but there's a picture of me,
all of me,
every inch, 
exposed.

At that time
the skies raged.
And I was whisked away.
Twisted up into space.
Folded into the fabric.
Set down in a world without woe. 
Blissful slumber.
But my stay was not for long
and I took to turbulent seas.
Once ashore,
I wept.
I had but a broken shell and a ripped up map.
I didn't know then 
but I also had a vessel to build.
I stumbled my way through construction. 
I couldn't find the blueprint.
Rather, I didn't know to look. 
It would go smoothly for a time.
Until a measurement was short.
Or a thumb smashed.
Nonetheless it went on. 
That day.
When I finally saw what I was doing. 
That day.
Measurements still come up short.
And thumbs are still smashed.
But I can see the vessel I am to build.
And how to build it.

It is said 
we need protected.
A righteous (wo)man will do.
Across the sea comes fury 
from them.

It is said 
they need protected.
A righteous (wo)man will do. 
Across the sea comes fury 
from us.

All our eyes wide and waxed with water,
clutching love close and caged
while righteous men and women laugh above our heads.
Counting coins. 
Contriving dread.

These are (wo)men of fear.

It has us hidden
but visits so we know it can see us.
It holds my nose tightly and pushes hard against my forehead. 
It should hurt but it doesn't. 
A not so coy hand in my pants.
We become invisible to the rest.
Darkness.
But it's eyes gleam.
All I can see.
Sadness. 
And stolen sadness.
The two are overbearing. 
But I don't care!
I twist around and push it beneath me. 
Deep, deep, deep.
Eyes shut now.
My hair whips.
Head back.
Mouth open.
My universe expands with heavy breath.
It's sweetness and sorrow. 
But mine.