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tabitha Dec 2017
i think i’d like to know…. what it’s like
to not feel the pounding  pressure of time

then again, lumps of coal
turn into diamond mines

come dig me up
but please not yet
will the time ever be (b)right?
tabitha Apr 2017
he's standing by his white pick-up
she sees him swaying there,
something was off, for example, his balance
she engages him, and invites him to our sidewalk
boy staggers to our side of the street
drunkenly, i asked him if he was trippin'
she reprimands me for pointing it out
she insists that we help him
he looks terrified, or feral
we tell him he's ok
he pulls her in, desperately
she holds him, possessively
bile from his belly escapes, stealthily, from his lips
it drips it drips it drips
onto her head
"It's ok it's ok it's ok"
she holds my joint to his mouth to settle his stomach
i don't want her to because i can see the gloss of bile still on his lips
he told us his name was Savannah
it wasn't
he staggered away from us
while he walks away, she finds another circumcised **** to latch on to
after a moment of:
drunkenly watching the flirtatious introduction begin
Savannah pulling open the car door
my brain pings
she's doing the thing with her eyes to the circumcised **** guy
*******
i run to him
"you forgot your jacket, and please don't drive"
i approach him like a stray dog, trying to earn his trust
he lets me hold his hand as i explain it's not safe
he tries to kiss me with his acidic mouth
has he ever done drugs before?
"no"
where are his friends?
"i donno i donno i donno i donno"
he cranks his key into the ignition in all the wrong ways
windshield wipers start going off, blinkers, headlights, the horn
i have the thought that maybe he thinks his car is a Bop-It
"walk with us, don't drive, ok?"
he steps out of the car
"ok"
i lean into the car, finagling his keys out of the ignition
his face changes
he grabs every follicle of hair inhabiting the back of my scalp and throws me into the middle of Haight Street yelling
"who the **** are you who the **** are you"
my body bag of bones smacks down on the pavement
i've never been assaulted by a stranger, only by people close to me
i want to hurt him before he could hurt me again
but he's strong, and more dangerously, paranoid
his fear magnifies mine  
there's no one around to stop him from doing more
she's there, doing the thing with her eyes, she doesn't see me
"i'm trying to help you, Savannah"
his eyes are black
his mind crowded
that chest heaves like a rabid dog
not quite a boy, not quite a man

when there is a raging white male
who sexually assaults you
who uses violence against you

RUN

i have the keys to my car, i can just go
i don't want him to hurt me again
i want to go, i want to go, but i can't leave her
i can't leave her
i scramble to my feet while Savannah watches me
he takes slow steps in my direction

she's on the curb, talking about nothing
they stand so close to each other
i tug her sleeve
"we have to go"
she's not hearing me
"please, let's go"
she waves me off like i used to do
to my younger sister

Savannah is staring at me and in that moment
i believe he could rip me apart at any second

i'm begging now
"if you love me, come with me THIS SECOND, please"
that line always works in the movies,
but life is not a movie
it catches her attention, but not in the way i want
she hunches and steps toward me,
"how dare you say i don't love you?"
"i'm scared, we need to go"
"do you know what i've done for you?"
circumcised **** guy leave
she's stepping towards me angrily,
Savannah steps towards me tentatively,
i'm tripping backwards
"that's not what i meant, please let's go"
my eyes are shifting between them
it's 2am in San Francisco
we're yelling, in front of a bar called Zem Zem
"he threw me into the street"
she's tripping on her own feet

when there's a raging alcoholic
who questions your loyalty
who can't see the bigger picture

DE-ESCALATE

"i'm sorry" / "i'm so grateful for everything you've done for me" / "i really need to go but i don't want to leave you behind because i love you"/ ego stroke / ego massage / ******* deep tissue

we woke up in my little sedan on a San Francisco hillside
my shoulder and ribs were a bit sore thanks to Savannah
my mouth tasted like the darkest parts of humanity
she said we were both in the wrong
"it was the alcohol"

i could have left her
tabitha Sep 2016
you are beautiful

i have thought this truth before
many times
while watching you stand in the door
my lovely elvis presley in disguise
memphis has put a sparkle in your eyes

let me have no other! so you can feel my love, unweathered,
it would all be much better if you just--forget her,
the only thing that makes miles distance is fear
so do a little something for your soul, and come on over here

i have sung this song before,
hummed the very same tune
to younger ears a couple years ago
look at me: a mockingbird marionette, fumbling
a millennial juliet reincarnate, crumbling
beneath familial fears and plain lack of years

it's not what it seems!
do not drink the poison!
i will see you on the other side!

i mean, it's just a ride, but
my ears have started to ring from
the sound of going mental
the sting of crashed potential
the forget-you-forget-me riptide
i still see your face, i step inside
i must move on and live my life

but how lovely would it be, to be together?
to cross time, and space
for the intergalactic sparkle of your face
for the pure pleasure of watching
each other make each other
happy

we used to write poems for each other

i have pictured myself there
in the pink atmosphere
floating with you, fellow air sign
for quite some time
i have prepared my body and my mind
for the pull of your gravity
washing over me, my skin, my spine
to let you have me
my atoms would surrender
on every eve

but elvis presley was a thief
and tennessee has nothing for me

i now
admit
defeat

this poem:
obsolete
tabitha Sep 2016
I.
i have a dream that you arrive.
you sit on my bed. i kiss you.
it feels like real life.
i say i missed you.

II.
then
here comes
the issue and you
decide to go. i drop to the floor,
say nothing while you walk right out the door.
(you say something vapid and deceitful about self-preservation)
i slowly lose my remaining supply of salvation.
i must hypnotize my heart in such a thick dimension
(it's a defense mechanism),
i somberly lucid dream you coming back
and to your senses
(you are not the only pretender, i suppose then).
i wake up with a tight throat and heavy chest;
just another subconscious quest, that simple.
my brain is tying itself in knots...
it'll all untangle, i figure
i never got closure.
this **** ******* lingers.

III.
i had longed for you since the day that i was born, i think.
no, i am sure of it.
your mind, the curve of your spine, your time
******* exquisite
wished you would visit
because then you could see
that you are all i see
when i see you i see me
is that a good thing or bad thing ya think?

life pitched me that fast ball, and i should have covered my bases:
i still am a child,
in that i lack a few vital years,
and perhaps i am a little bit wild...
but *******, i swear to it, i would give you my best
i am rolling like a rock
take me down the river
let's slide down hills and
nix all the pills
even if our heads have bad weather
i want to love you so much better

IV.
i keep reminding myself that i am the world
so that i could still kinda feel like i have you

V.
here i am, a west coast lady
still mastering the art of
hammer-ons and glamazons
taking up random jobs and distractions
and there you are -- stunning --
strumming
humming
as if everything is fine
i am that hunk of wood
strings attached
and you were the hands that could play me

VI.
these are the untold truths
of my burning twisting youth
love has sewn my mouth shut
tabitha Aug 2016
i cannot tell you who i am
because then that will mean
i am everything i am not
tabitha Mar 2016
i will have it all some day,
as my "it all"  has nothing
to do with gilded halls &
shiny floors & iron doors
(anymore)
i am now concerned with
Better Things -- like
Love. and Order.

but oh, when i say i will have it,
& that i will have it all, i believe
myself!
more than i've believed
anything or anyone, ever at all.

when i say that; when i say
i  will  have it, &  that i will have it
all,    he   looks  at me  strange...
his eyes light up in bright green flames
like  a  pretty man  would
look  at a  silly,  deranged
little doll.  skeptical.  
annoyed.
as if the world has already graced
my porcelain skin with enough lace for it to be a sin
he has no idea what it's like  
to  be a  doll, at all; our pockets
are much too small and we are expected
to sit on shelves all day long .
he thinks that my all,
the "it all" of a doll,
is the "it all" of all....
a life of beauty and
wallpaper art,
of letting people dress you up
just to tear you apart.
he is.... jaded
by interrupted dreams,
and faded
by Jäger.
i have posed in his hands, to see his smile
i let him know
i want to know how he could move me
finesse me, brush my hair, confess to me.
not to then to lay me down, and forget me.
i am very familiar with the shelves of his soul.

he buttons his sleeves,
and goes on to his lunch affair;
his heart falls out when he jests/deflects.
he lets it lay there.

we are different kinds of hollow
tabitha Mar 2016
i, a textilian*,
politely clambered up the faces of mountains
as the valley revealed herself to me
her ready desert face, waiting
to be devoured by ravenous, wandering eyes
the nape of her neck, her chest, her thighs,
slowly~ and all at once

but i, the textilian, drowsily slipped under soft shade
it was only a brook but, it felt like a wave
and the deep creek carries me away,
then brings me back, to this sacred place....
it is nice to wake up to the sun
in your face

until slowly, and all at once, i was awake
and my clothes were on the ground
letting sweet redemption crawl back into my pores
beneath that sky, between those rocks
giving my self away
no mystery, just us three
just hello

hence i, the ex-textilian,
like a newly-molted reptilian
more like an undressed chameleon
in all my ecstatic toughness and alcoholic delirium
have learned more about what it is to be naked
than i've known since i was born
slowly~ and all once
get naked

*textilian: term coined off of Richard, a 64 year old LA biz retiree, desert dweller, and nudist ~ this is what he called us when we arrived at the Springs wearing clothes.

adventure is good for the soul.
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