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samasati Nov 2013
I've been told
not to feel
if I can help it
not to deal
with pressing bothers
but they scrape at me like pernicious elves
with honed candy canes,
made spear-like to stick in my guts
and stay there

I've been told to
watch out!
time creeps up and then you're forty
love dries up and then you're forty
crisises emerge and the spear holds itself sturdy
and all you've known is to go numb;
when the spear comes,
go numb;
babies will **** on their thumbs
and you will go numb

I have a cat now
it came with the house I am renting
it's grey and it stares
into my soul like it knows there's a hole
and doesn't stop staring until I close my bedroom door
but it sits outside on the floor
meowing for more
scratching to be let in, to dig her nails in my skin
and tell me with those cunning eyes
*life's not out to get you
but it doesn't mean you won't hurt inside
it doesn't mean the hole in your soul
will be patched, mended or filled or made whole
anytime soon
and sometimes it's just too hard to get out of bed
before noon
but still, you should try or I'll scratch you, deep in
my nails are like spears and you don't know where else
they have been
I wrote this more as a spoken word; so feel free to read it aloud.
samasati Oct 2013
take off your mask
Halloween isn't every day
you're shy
but you're brave;
I'm still trying to figure out
how
to get over you
I'm shy
but I'm brave --
though I suppose that when hearts are haunted
with feeling
unwanted,
you are less than you can be
it makes it so hard to be free
and I suppose that when hearts are haunted
with feeling unwanted,
there is nowhere else to go
besides a labyrinth
down below.
take off your hurt,
it's removable just like a shirt
and hang it to the side;
look in the mirror,
your mother could not have been more clear:
beauty resides --
yes, I suppose that when hearts are haunted
with feeling
unwanted,
you are blackened to the root
going rotten like a fruit;
and I suppose that when hearts are haunted
with feeling
unwanted,
there is nothing but the blues
so there is nothing left to lose.
samasati Oct 2013
a womb. *****. an egg. curiosity. a man and woman that love each other. a man and woman that don’t know each other. a man and woman that kind of like each other but don’t want anything serious.

stupidity. a ripped ******. a missed birth control pill. bad fortune. good fortune. an in the moment decision. a premeditated decision. ***.

love-making. *******. pulling out. pre-*******.

old flames. new sparks. excitement in the private parts.

addiction. miscommunication. needing something to feel important. to have a purpose.

mothers and fathers. crack addicts and coke heads. teenagers.

impatience. anticipation. guilt for causing blue *****.

****. accidents. mistakes.

true love.
samasati Oct 2013
big sweaters, ghibli, acrylic paint, cafes, knit blankets and unplanned afternoon naps on the couch, gardens, bananas, vanilla almond milk, soft yarn to crochet into ****** scarves, candles after midnight, the big trees with bulky roots, patio furniture, pianos in random buildings, the internet, manatees, the boundless colours of nail polish, peanut butter & honey, rubber boots, pens that write well, fresh new notebooks, skylights, american netflix, mothers that understand, tête à têtes, one glass of sweet white wine, awkward eye contact that turns into comfortable kissing, airplanes, fresh air, baseball caps, the female collective, the really good dark chocolate, flowers, pumpkin spice lattes and ***** chai lattes, candid laughter, yoga, oceans, high waisted shorts, striped t-shirts, docile cats, playful pups, french presses, integrity, sunscreen, meerkats, penguins, chameleons, autumn leaves, fall fashion, ruby woo mac lipstick, osho, dynamic meditation, compassion, siblings, scrambled eggs, smart phones, garageband, metronomes, hot glue guns, quinoa, ferry boats, soft hands, bicycles, real people, fat snowflakes in ample, graceful *******, backpacks that don't hurt your shoulders, hair conditioner, multi-vitamins, soft sand under bare feet, people that own up to lies, clarity, samsara, satori, samasati, visions, echinacea, lavender oil and frankincense, ambrosia apples and ripe avocados, authenticity, Morgan Freeman's voice, good kissers, *******, iced tea on a hot day, curtains, the smell of beeswax, art galleries, hand massages and foot massages, reiki, plums, mild thunderstorms, soccer *****, good surprises, when birds don't **** on your head.
I wrote this with my momma one fine morning!
there is always so much more to add.
samasati Oct 2013
there are amoebas in me
half are black
half are white
black knows the difference between right & wrong
white knows the difference between wrong & right
I am a castle
made of sugar cubes
I am Einstein
as a fetus
I am a trampoline without springs
but most of all,
I am a liar and a square shooter
and often
don't know what the difference is
samasati Oct 2013
I’m full,
there is no room inside of me
every bone has been dipped in a thick coat
of something
sweet or sick
and every crevice has been poured all over,
now bowls of mixed icky stews –
I am full
there is no room for another hand
or fingerprint
or lemon poundcake

I am full, but I feel bare;
and I still don’t want you there

my body is heavy
with gooey webs of ghoul guilt and there is pressure
on my chest to pick myself up,
and get on with it
even as evil weighs me down,
tires me down,
pries me down,
and laughs at me struggling

I feel so full
there is no room to be smiled at
or even looked at;
there is no more room to store your stories
or secrets
or tears
or trust; it’ll all come falling down
like the London bridge
and I’d collapse underneath, into poisonous gasps and groans
of relief
that finally,
I
get
to
die.

I am full but I feel so empty
and I don’t want to die,
but I want to die;
but I mostly don’t want to die;
I just feel so empty
and I don’t want to be around you
because it doesn’t make it any easier
for me
to love me
samasati Sep 2013
there could be a worm in my head
gnawing away,
like mice do through cords, and then one day
you realize
oh! the toaster doesn't work anymore!;
my mercy doesn't work anymore!
and my patience went dry like acrylic paint does
when you brush it on the canvas, and want so badly
to blend it
but it can't blend
because it's dried already, so
you should probably try oil paint or something -
I'm losing my mind
picking all the weeds out,
standing tall with peaceful pride and then realizing,
they were beautiful flowers;
I uprooted them and then chucked them in a naughty pile

I'm awful! loud in my head
stop being awful! I'm hurting people
again
and
again
and
again

find a better gardener, please never
ever
ever
ask me to tend to your soil
or your fruit
or your flowers
or anything that has to do with
nurturing
your growth
or heart health
or emotional stability
- I pull roots
like a robot; I don't even look at what I'm pulling
until after
it's been pulled out.
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