I climbed a tree
Praised it's firmness
Then judged it's dead leaves
And then it said to me:
Don't love me because of how I make you feel
Love me because I am a living thing among living things

The other morning
I hugged my favorite tree
After climbing high up in her branches
And she said to me
After a judgment slipped through my thoughts
That so many of her under branches were dead
I wondered if something was wrong with her
I wondered if something was wrong with me
For loving her so
And she said to me
"Don't love me for the way I make you feel,
Love me because I am a living thing among living things"

Slowly thinking thoughts
while cooking a late dinner in a
dimly lit kitchen,
A quiet I haven't said hello to
in a long time,
But I suppose she's always been here
Waiting for me to slowly think my thoughts

Secret thoughts,
Secret thoughts,
I have about,
Those who I adore,

Secret thoughts,
Secret thoughts,
I have wishing,
They loved me more,

Secret poems I've writ
Secret words scribbled on page slips
Wishing they would love me different than they do
And wanting to tell them the secret words
But then they wouldn't be my secret thoughts
Secret thoughts,

I guess I want everyone to puddle
In a pool of loving goo
Around me
To lay on me with the couch
Wanting nothing more
And nothing less than
The couch of rest
Together

Is this just a place where I go to feel lonely
To write my secret thoughts
Isn't it so much better
To love how they love me
To appreciate how they are able to show their love for me

So what if he doesn't love me how I wish he would
Doesn't want me how I wish he would

I feel sexually attracted to anyone I find attractive
So
I don't understand how
Him not loving me
Not wanting me sexually
Means anything other than that I am unattractive to him
I think this is something I will learn
On my own
And I don't think it's something I will ask

I am sinking deeper into the couch
Knowing I need to go put chicken in the oven
And chop up the zucchini
I thought of texting my ex this morning
To see if he would want to go get a coffee
Check in

I can picture him saying, "stop being weird! Just text me"
But it was early and he was probably sleeping
And if I'd texted him maybe he would have followed up
Later in the day
And tried to rain check
But no
I don't want a standing rain check on coffee
With someone I only want to see on random mornings
When Gotye is stuck in my head

I am dancing much more lately

I am glad the other guy left town
It was too much
He was here for too long

I am being more open
To life
To friends
To opportunity
And also to
Energies around me
They are getting in me and on me
And being big and large
And feeling larger than me
And it's hard to feel so stuck up with other people
To feel so affected
To wake up with thoughts
secret thoughts
of someone else's life

Secret thoughts, secret thoughts
The secret thoughts I have about myself
I don't want them to be secret at all.

What will I do in the absence of ***
Will I paint more
Sing more
Spend more time with my friends and the birds
Will I dance more
Maybe in the rain
Will I lean on my friends
Get to know my pen
Lift my arms when I feel afraid
Maybe I'll feel way less afraid
Actually
Will I cry more or less?
Will I get closer to my family
Will my energy still flow
I won't be a frozen bird in a cage of my body
I'll be jell-o and slime in my body
My energy will still flow
But it will all be mine
Once
Years ago
I didn't have *** for a month
I saw a friend of mine and he said
It suited me
To not have ***
Maybe I'll be even more beautiful
and for who?
Not to attract someone new
But just a result
Beautiful like a wolf when she leaps
I don't think this takes away my polyamory
At all
I will still have partners
Big and small
Short and tall
I just won't need to hear them moan
**** their *****
Press my fingers gently against their *******
Feel their wetness
Or their hardness
I will just know them in other ways
And maybe not feel shame
That *** scares me
That ****** intimacy
Is something I'm not ready for
Maybe I'll write more
About what I want
What I crave
Will I crave?
I'm sure I'll crave just the same
I'll have more energy for the healing
I will still be ****
No doubt, that will never leave me
Will the world present itself to me again as it once did
In crevices
In textures
In moods and soundscapes
I think no
It's going to be new
That's the point of this part of my life
Is that it's all new
There's no movie in my mind
Of what this is all like
What this will look like
Everyday I feel the sensation more
That this is just what life is for
That life is for the living
Sensing the world as best I can
Realizing nothing matters so very much
As connecting
Breathing
Feeling
Loving
Breathing
Leaving
Growing
Tou­ching leaves
Climbing trees
Making art
Interpreting life
Sweet privilege
a privilege to make the choice
to heed my body who has been telling me what I need
No one will praise my waist but me
Maybe I will finally understand my waist
The space where I bend
Where my body processes food
Nutrients
The space where my floating ribs float
The space where my ovaries bloat
The space where my solar plexus knows what she knows
It's a relief actually
To let loose my ***** of all foreign energy
Knowing that no new foreign energy is coming here
I never got the time
My ***** never got the time to be alone
The time a ***** needs from birth to around late adolescents
Save for some childhood musings
To be alone
She was invaded early

Now she will finally get the space she needs.
As I let this resonate in my body
This sexlessness in my future
For the first time I feel the power I hold
Or rather the power that holds me.

I'm 28
and I'm reclaiming my virginity
I've just realized in my bath
That *** is optional
Which came from the realization that ***, good or bad is amoral
***, good or bad, has no innate wrongness to it
**** is wrong
*** cannot be wrong, it can only have varying degrees of good to weird or mind blowing or awkward
Just like a sandwich
Of course it is more than a sandwich sometimes
Sometimes it deep and energetic and connected
Sometimes it has ramifications
Sometimes it makes life
A sandwich cannot make life
So the good and badness of it carry more innate weight
But in terms of morality *** is eating a sandwich
A poem from my bath
"*** is 100% apart from ****
But it happens in the same place
Here in this body
That remembers it visceraly"
I said this poem and thought
That this would make a good moment in a play
A woman in a bath sitting up tall in the tub with her arms against the wall, saying "*** is optional" then slumping and sliding down until she was submerged, breathing a long loud sigh on the way, only to muster the courage, arm gliding upward first and body trailing behind to sit up straight and again say "*** is optional" and to repeat.
And then I wondered if this part of me
The artist
that has visions and is mysterious
It felt clear to me in this moment that my creativity
Came from the confusion in my body of *** and ****
And wondered if my creativity, my artist, knew that she had come from this confusion
And then it dawned that maybe she has always been
Maybe I haven't been enjoying ***
Because I've been having the wrong type of ***
I don't know what the *** I should be having is
But I am willing to try things
And then I realized I am maybe scared of what I might like
And then I realized I was scared
Because lately my fantasies have been me naked in heels and chained, walking into a room of naked huge hard men who I have to ask for help because I'm a damsel in distress and then they touch me and **** me
And that sounds like an actually very scary fantasy to come true
And then I realized that maybe it's my fantasies
That don't match up
Maybe I want completely other stuff
Then I got worried of what I might like again
I rememered my ex-partner who one time made a sound like a baby in a tub when we were in the tub on shrooms and his **** was hard
And in that moment I thought oh god is he into adult baby stuff
And I was super icked out by it
And then just now I thought, did I only think that because maybe I am into adult baby stuff?
And then I thought am I into adult baby stuff?
I'm not but it does really upset me
In various ways
And then I was like oh right of course,
Because I was molested as a baby
And then I remembered the ****** I have when I'm alone
and how only two men have every given it to me
Out of the nearly 100 I've ******
Only two
Maybe I shouldn't be ******* men?
Maybe I'm actually really gay?
Though women haven't given me that ****** either,
The ******* fantasies I have
Leave me feeling so vulnerable
But *** that doesn't do so much of what I like in those fantasies
I don't enjoy very much
It would just be so much better if he choked me
Or held me down
That would be more exciting
It would send a thrill through my body
But afterward I'll feel exposed and
I'll want someone who loves me
To hold me
And if someone who loves me
Is there is there to hold me
I may shut down in fear of intimacy
Probably I will cry
Why can't I have that ****** with partners?
I have a fear that my squirting and the ****** I have with ******* doesn't count
Because that one ******, the best one, the one that waves me and quakes me and send my ***** into outer space, the readiness of my lips, the bloat of my *****, the viscous wetness that drips down my tingling *****
Doesn't come out with partners
Something faster comes, something hot and wide and flat, something high shine and piercing comes, white hot pleasure. Dehydrating waterfalls that spill out, calming the white heat before the next attack of pleasure
I'm exhausted by the latter
I'm exhausted by ***
I'm underwhelmed by *******
At this point
I've been ******* since I was four
I've had *** with all the hotties
In many countries
In all the seasons
In every stage and phase of romantic attraction or plutonic mistake
And I get it
I've squirted on so many people
I've *** in my own hands so many thousands of times
And I'm exhausted by it
But of course also I crave it
I think?
Or do I just WANT to be a sexually healthy woman who WANTS it
and I remind myself again,
*** is optional

I appreciate your mouth that is like a plush bow
Thoughtful words shooting from between like an arrow
I love your dove-like qualities
But you’re not like a regular dove
You’re dove who was perhaps a spy
In another time
In another life
You’re a dove who makes you think she’s shy
Until you look her in the eye
And she fluffs up her down
Pounding the air with coy wings
Sending shock waves through your things
Cooing
All the while looking so inviting
A bit naive
With soft, shiny eyes
And just below those fluffy thighs
Are talons that might clutch
You if you’re lucky enough
And the harp song and lightening storm of your mind
I think it’s really really divine
You’re as much vintage Chanel as you are a steaming bowl of organic porridge with honey and fresh berries and a bright green mint leaf on top
You’re the long red hairs on an orangutan’s elbow
And you’re the sweet way
A primate
Holds her babe
To her ******
You’re a late dinner with friends in 10 years
Wooden bowl in hand
Comfort in your hips
Power in your feet
And an expression on your mouth
I feel lucky to imagine
You’re a face I wanna watch age
You’re a place where I can misbehave
You’re a space I sometimes crave
You’re ripples in a pond
And you’re a rave
You’re a song
I’d love to keep humming
For a long
Time
You’re a natural
And you like to pretend you’re not
And I believe that sometimes you really believe that you’re not
But nevertheless you are a natural
And you make me feel like one too
I love few things the way I love being natural with you