Monday, December 20, 2010

The afterlife

Recognize 'him' and yours
will be the kingdom of heaven

I never wanted to live in a kingdom
Neither gold nor purity excite me
Where is the life in that,
what has it come after?

I want to bathe in your ribbon irises
I want to bake cookies with children
I want to grow old and fat
With stories to tell

My only royalty is earth
May they glory in her

Monday, October 18, 2010

things i believe

the DSM-IV (or any other DSM for that matter) can suck it. most of it is bullshit

Thursday, October 14, 2010

apathy is a privelege, indifference is a disease

the thinnest hand they're wiring writhing sacrificially wilting under particled skies
its time the thinnest blood its flowing out deficient its streaming out
its drunken they're all drinking they're not thinking
there is nothing
sometimes there's laughter it feels like hiding its all in timing
one two three they are immaterial they are (they were) the dust
a film of ages the rawness of the rough cuts
they tore up through underground smokestacks crumbled in self disgust
in time this timeless essence
it wins
the urge to feel the blisters like youth they'll live length in days not years
they'll fight, they'll fight
they'll scream, i hear them
its like a miracle to hear someone believe
to hear someone resolve to leave
a life that's less like lifelike
dollhouses we play (pretend) we play like cruel children
on the other end
there's someone screaming
its wrenching up its clogging in
the pores of this self destruction, its what happens
we don't know ourselves
we stopped thinking
we started acting out a description from a pixelated god and we tried to play the leading role
choked on our own scars
of distraction
and relaxation
of plastic simplicities
and alienation
of exponential exponents tangling dwindling aspirations breathe

Sunday, October 3, 2010

a lie

i showed you my cold shoulder
but you never tried to touch
i told you how i sank in
and wanted out so much
you preyed on me in footsteps
and caging stabbing words
i lifted off my senses
i became the verb
a fluctuation is an instant
an instant is a path
that night i saw your weakness;
that you never truly laugh
the hurt for hours consumes me
one thought at a time
of how broken ones
will break you
if you give them room to try
of how lost girls become
bearers of caution in a womb
and string along their secrets
a darkly staggering perfume
i do not want your secrets
or your empty eyes
i hope the ground will find you
a place more comfortable to lie

Saturday, October 2, 2010

content with the moment

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

yeah disclaimer

i'm kind of really embarrassed that anyone might be reading this, which calls into question...why did i create a blog in the first place?
but it is a good release, i guess, just know, You, that i don't really edit or spend much time on anything i put up here it just Bluh mindspillllllll.

catharsis pt. dos

i never meant it
to stand by because i was too afraid

but here i am
wallflower with twelve foot roots
i can't hardly stand ~ to pull myself out
move to center
that would be suicide

so i let my roots rot deep
struggling without sunlight or space is easier
than uprooting this self
from this place and
this way of believing

i could choose to do this differently
is that a reality?
or a realistic fantasy
which i peddle to myself for guilt by the hour, roundtrip

i want to wake up
loving my skin
loving the flesh that grows and diminishes
and shakes
like a living thing

i want to wake up sure
that i can do this thing
that i can make pieces fit together
and grant my own wishes

but i can't

or don't

or won't

i hold my flesh between my hands
a thousand dissonant rhythms of how
i should could tried left altered incised exorcised gave up
because it rules me

i should love the skin muscle sinew that stands my feet on the ground nourishes my blood which pumps my heart and puts electric life into my brain to tell my fingers mouth face what to say

i could pretend that it didn't matter to be different to be ashamed to be used to be judged to be too much or not enough to be not right in molecular certainty

i tried to let life carry away a disease of decay and it pumped me up but i didn't say i wanted to stay, so i learned a new escape

i left hoping. and then i left hope when abandoned by myself every couple days, where do you go? i am so alone that i don't exist, you see, that's how i want it

i altered my vision of self to transcend a scope so narrow of all these expectations piled on, but the transcension itself became a self i aspired to be, i forgot to leave me out of the equation and those ego intentions burn so brightly i'm the moth now, ready to be burned by me me me

i incised a line into my stomach, and then my thigh, which reminds me that this is real but only that real is here and here is hell and its so intolerable that i cover my wounds in shame and put a smile on my face

i exorcised the left-ear-corner-clipping of a demon so large it swallowed me while turning inside out inside: a vacuous hole, its a trick to see a soul in my eyes and the lines of my face because i haven't been here most my life, i'm afraid, i couldn't let it go without going away

i gave up belief. which is life and to be, because i'd rather be free but when i got to the giving my body which controls me pulled me down and cried so loud i couldn't see

because it rules me

not poetry not prose

i sat there, still
the rain slid over the glass
leaving lava bubbles on my legs
the rain moved me
nauseous lost in an out of body
experiencing timeless sapphire night
lost to when

the last time i truly remember
being able to love who i was
more or less, before less was all i could accept
i felt nothing
which was what drove me to tears
as the taurus drove off, presumably i was driving
they were stingy tears
the kind that feel dry before they drop and leave
a burning bump in your cracked and aching throat

i felt nothing
i remembered nothing
a person here or there flashed through brainspace
a discussion
but the feeling was set in a capsule
which we buried; i was there
but i've lost the nerve
i've lost the energy
i'm not sure i have permission

the tears, dry.
and the nausea, wet
of what came next
which i still feel
deeply psychoticly in limbs i tried to discard
i crafted scrambled love letters to death
like this one
full of simple cliches
to explain
that i think i'm important
just like you

and as each memory spitting
through a chugging wiry fan
slap plopped down my face legs chin hands
time caught my face in her grasp
in the eye telling me to get the fuck off it
with no apologies

all i know is the numbness now
the buried things scare me
i hate to feel weak

Monday, August 16, 2010


another day that doesn't exist

Friday, August 13, 2010

oops-freeflowing unedited-sorrryk

in the middle of the night

when the storm has sent cascades
through hours
lashing gracefully
dancing scathingly

when sets across these states
run from sordid screens
to whirring reruns
to blankly buzzing

i no longer exist

because i told my story to
my night self too many times
and it has become background noise
like the splatsplatpatter
and the frrrrrrrrrrrzzzzzz
its the meeeeeeeeeeee
that has ceased

to be interesting
to be intelligible
to be being

beating herself to the punches,
punching herself to the rhythm,
rhythmically breathing in again and away
into all things


if it meant anything
i would tell you
i'm really confused; i think we all are.

the panic always emerges
sets the stage lights on my
poor quickening heart and
-it leaps out -
a failed entrance
a forced smile and a stiff half motion curtsy
where emotion might have been

had i the courage
to be the woman in my head
who i've kept in cages of all kinds and colors
sleek and shiny things harbor hideous beasts
she thinks

had i the courage
i'd have said something sacred
i'd have danced into center
lit up the perimeter and parted with
kisses so genuine
to accept is to accept
and to reject is to reject
and the outcome matters less
than what is clear

and seeing through
is being here

Thursday, August 5, 2010


it occurred to me that i could conceivably choose to not worry about anything but my own life. that might make things simpler, huh? haha. oh miiii oh my.

Friday, July 9, 2010

Coming from a dark place

it is an interesting mechanism of human survival that we believe about our lives and our selves whatever it is we need to in order to maintain hope and stamina. "i", for instance, having had an eating disorder, at some point chose to believe that recovery was possible. recovery necessarily meaning that life would be better in order for it to be desirable. it was a belief i chose not all at once, but in broken steps, out of increasing desperation.
desperation created by the pain of slowly killing myself, the pain of being scorned by those i loved, the pain of a complete lack of autonomy, the pain of isolation, and the pain of bringing disgust, despair, and disappointment to my family. these pains threatened this tenuous existence - i had to make a choice. either believe that 'recovery' was possible for me, or stop hanging by a thread and just let it snap. there are all kinds of pressures, internally and externally, to not 'just let it snap', and probably rightly so, assuming that we are all here to continue survival,right?

and so i made a choice. the limbo space between here and gone was quickly disappearing, so i jumped to one side. i chose to believe that my fears- fears that swallowed me whole, that kept me awake at night starving & lonely, that drove my compulsive routines- that these fears were simply not true.
i chose to accept that this would tear me apart, that i would have to reject every belief and foundation "my life" had come to be built on, to overthrow the driver of my brainwheel. to accept that every breathing moment of my foreseeable future would be an exasperating torture. to accept that any control i thought i had was imagined. to accept that the pain i would feel outside of my madly constructed bubble would greatly exceed the pains within the bubble, even those that had brought me to this desperate decision making place. to accept that despite this, somehow, it would be worth it, and i would get through it.
to say these are choices made on faith is a gross understatement. they are choices that create faith in order to exist. choices that exist only to maintain hope and stamina. yet, according to those around me, this was the only rational choice - the only one they could believe in - because it kept them going, and we are all here to keep going, right?

this was fucking hard work, done on faith, with very little immediate reward (other than lifting some of the burdens off of my family). they reassured me that it would be worth it. so far as i could tell, recovery in their minds was a field of butterflies, rainbows and daisies- the light at the end of this dark tunnel, and every other cliche of delite.
'professionals' saw more of my truth - they dealt with people in recovery daily, but they too reassured me that it would be worth it. most of the time, i still believe this is true. it gives me hope and stamina. i am 'recovered'. an ironic label, since i feel near constantly lost. what is it that i have recovered? i think i am what i feared. i would not have made this leap of faith to recovery if i had known this to be true. but am i sorry that i made the leap? i don't know. when you cross an unbridgeable divide, looking back and making calculations is the sort of futile act that is pure masochism - that kills hope and stamina. which may be why i am in this pit: from trying to make that calculation.
in the end it is irrelevant if i am what i feared, because the process of recovery means letting go of that fear, however tightly you think you need to grasp it. letting it go and letting the process of living be all that you hold on to; all that you adhere to.

back to the point, if there is any point to this, people choose to believe the things that they need to to carry on. no matter how analytical they are, they do it because they have to.
my family has always believed that my recovery would bring me greater contentment and relief. they are sure of it, they can not see how it would not be so. but the world does not work this way, it does not discriminate between "i's" and "you's" and "me's" and "my's". it doesn't care who my family belongs to. and it cares very little about my contentment.
this is not a cruelty, this is a great ambivalent energy, a fusion and division of matter without a mind for my petty existence. so there is no reason to believe in anything about how things "should be" or "will go". the faith i based my recovery on is a bunch of shit. my personal essence + my life experience + my culture of birth + my period of history may peace and contentment, ever. that is something to be accepted for the sake of continuing existence. or something to be rejected and resented for a life of bitterness, or for death.
or, if i'm half sane, i'll probably just continue to ignore it and choose beliefs that format my brain for hope and stamina. call it choosing ignorance. or call it a cynical outlook. but i'm calling it like it is; nothing more than a convenient choice, a mechanism for the survival of each day.
and that is recovery, take it or leave it.
i'm gonna take it.

s'all good.

Saturday, June 5, 2010

rant from some time in April

Not yet HUMAN anymore

Often, feeling not completely alive, drawn to asceticism, but wounded,
lost, guideless, spiritless, then numb; me personally.
Working through this, still, as far as 'normal' as it comes
I am still not alive, more, I am heart beating limb moving
sentient, but not humanly fulfilled, where am I?
Where am I - We, what we are?
We have too long been trying to be Gods; veiled forces behind
closed doors, impenetrable, infallible, invincible,
but our flesh knows the difference, our Earth takes the beat.
We have not yet mastered balance. We don't know We.
Back to the point, we are not gods.
Why play at bigness, to our own destruction and to all that is life?
At the price of a grave forgetting, to not know this
Human-ness that rises up in us & says
Breathe! Explore! Struggle! Hurt! Die! Breed! Sing!
Wear your Face in genuine mirroring of your Self.
Cultivate. Create.
We don't remember much about creation, collectively.
We are bigger now, inflated but empty; spinning heads.
We fly to something feeling more important, greater, Godlier.
Domination ~ Destruction.
Why? What shaped this sick string which brought HERE & NOW before my eyes?
Is it for comfort, a struggle for resources?
Too convenient a write off for the worst.
Power. Like Gods. Forgotten humility. Floating heads.
What inflates must deflate.
Doesn't build; imposes.
Doesn't gather; takes.
Doesn't struggle; hides, obliterates, betrays.

I me conscious body space am Not immune.
I too, am greedy, forgetting, instant sensation seeking.
Non human ~ inhumane.
I too am disgusted at my animal body. Why not more like a god's?
And so concocting things, scrambling, mentally make it so.
Momentarily immortal, its all for believing.
But the screaming in me, the swirling gaping PLEASE
find this, more, US.
Still here.
Wander to the woods, I hear you.
Follow pound feet in moon's reflection, I feel you.
Breathe in heady scents and see how she makes things reappear, I see you.
Beating hearts connect in pace of demanding some real recognition of humanity, I'm with you.
Discover essences indescribable crawls beneath skins of carbon everywhere, I learn you.
I want to know you.
Still there.
But I can't seem to find you, to hold you.
Lost so long ago, the lines on this map faded by thousands of suns.
All I can find are your brittle old backbones, far away &
scentless, senseless.
I hope this is enough.

Tuesday, May 25, 2010

A love poem

I like to rumble through
tearing at tags of photosynthetic
I imagine, then I imagine less and
become more
red thump-thum-rum
up, dodge, skinsweatslide around
Ache, pound, catchdetect scent
smile, slip in
give out.
Greens glittering
Life limbs
MY? who?
Whose are so beautiful
as yours?
Let me sit under you and
Sweet gratitude.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Ridiculous ! Ridiklookuhs i

I think I'm braindamaged.
I think, I'm braindamaged.
I think; I'm braindamaged.
I: think I'm braindamaged.

Braindamaged I, I'm think.
I'm think; I braindamaged.
I'm braindamaged, I think.
Braindamaged think: I'm I.

Hit kin bam! rind-damage.
Main kind thar image bid.
Hit in m'k, drab, imagined.
Id math, I a margin; be kind.

Friday, May 7, 2010


Sense of wonder
Scents of one or
Ends of slumber
Send us wonder

I wonder
Are there any spaces left on this land we know,
that we have left unknown?
That no foot tread on, head rolled down, hands plucked from?
If we could light up all the spaces we'd ever stepped, would we be impressed?
How many pieces, miniscule as they may be, here in Minneapolis, are 'untouched'?
How miniscule can something be while we still allow it to occupy 'space'?
There are definitely molecules we haven't touched, right?
Is that enough?
What counts as space when the earth is always shifting, changing, growing beneath us?
Lat/Long. coordinates? The finest top layer of decay and dirt?

If I tracked every place my feet fell with...I don't know, glow stick goo
How many times have I retraced my steps? If I stay in one 'place' long enough
that there is no virgin territory
am I now a part of that place? For how long?
Or do I cancel out the steps each time they are retraced, allowing myself to see it in
new light, new matter, new skin? For what it is.

I wonder

How long does it take for two people who love eachother. who love to touch eachother.
to take in every sensational space? When we change, 'together' or 'alone', is that sensation new?
If I could cover that old couple in the park with glow stick goo
would their kisses-caresses-hugs-hits-high-fives leave any space unlit?
Can we assume that the couple arguing over static cell phone left more, glow less?
How many times do we retrace these steps?
What kind of ground are we trying to cover when we touch eachother?
You're yours I'm mine nothing here's for keeps, but please, let me be known, right now.

These thoughts are not original, not unknown, or unstepped
Its almost prettier that way
Also, this is not 'deep'
I have no intention of depth
It was all about surface area


Monday, April 19, 2010

Something I wrote a while ago, which is less & less true, which is lovely

Once in a while, we'll call it Monday, when bleak gets bleaker
I lay immobile. unable. I can't move.
I'm thinking its the thought of the thinking I'll have to go through in order to delicately figure out what to say to the
whos and whats and whens all day
the nicey nice niceties my lips display in whispers
sometimes i speak in "Hiiii's" and "How are yous?"
Nods and half smiles
and I wonder who I am
some sickly sweet pink fluff pustule, punch in and i'm popped -
but don't be offended, i do wish you the best, and i care about how you are,
but i don't fucking. know. WHO. you. are.
and when i'm on my back stuck to the sheets of sleep, paralyzed, its this in and out tedium my body won't consider.
when will i be brave enough to show you something raaaaaw, i mean fucking sail it in, from the little sea of unfiltered.
i spent years hiding in my own shame, until all i wore was bones
and i never once told the truth about anything because i was too empty to care
but i guess i'm not yet full enough to give some other human being my reality
i'm in the like it or not its your job limbo,
the fake it til you make it you better be funny and you better upbeat or you will never have friends
the smile a lot and signal cues to ensure sometime someone wants you
and i'm sickly swishing swirling pink fluff parade
a drain all clogged with meets and greets and man, don't i know, ha ha ha
let me tell you.
cynicism aside. its my choice, what i say to you. how i say it. and i do, i really want to know. how are you? who are you?
i think i already like you.

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Whats yer mission?

I often hear (particularly when it concerns 'politics') "We all want the same thing in the end". At times, I've said this myself. It is useful as a concept to oppose the divisive nature of politics, but at the heart, I don't think it holds true.
Yes, we all want the same things that drive our human existence. Safety, security, nourishment, and for most of us, happiness/contentment for ourselves and others. What we perceive will fulfill these needs is often very different, but, thank heavens & earth we at least have this bit of shared humanity. I have been thinking a lot lately about the driving forces in my own life. I think these forces are often what shape our various approaches and perceptions.
I find "what we want" is basically driven by what I would call our 'missions' or 'purposes', which differ radically from person to person, party to party, group to group. If you do not share a philosophy or underlying belief system, you are not likely to share a 'mission', or therefore, a vision.
To make this a little less abstract...
Here are some examples (from my subjective experience) of other (awesome) people's visions/missions:
I have been cared for by someone who places the most value on autonomy, responsibility to loved ones, self betterment, contentment, and comfort.
I have met others whose vision includes self-sacrifice, dedication, responsibility to truth & the global community.
Others value adventure, extreme zest for life, presence, and a deep commitment to community and interpersonal relationships.
People are made of all combinations of these and (of course) other visions.
Maybe some are nobler than others, and you can at least in part choose what drives you. But there is really no convincing somebody else what should drive them, and I'm honestly grateful for that.
People are driven by passion. By addiction. By distraction. By love. By fear. By hope. By resentment. By means of escape. Etc.
It is no curiousity to me that we all disagree so often, so it really doesn't frustrate me all that much.
What does frustrate me is when the extremism of some people's visions end up disregarding respect for the rest of humanity. How do we successfully speak out about this? How do we find balance and peace with our individual natures, while still seeking justice in the world?
I shoooorazhelll don't know how to answer these questions.
I do believe that unless there is some recognition of these seperate visions/missions/filters we all have of the world, the head butting, polarizing, and name calling will endlessly continue with little progress made in regards to respect and acceptance of our fellow humans, or furtherance of our work for justice.


So, I am creating this mainly as an organized place to put all of the mind purge that I usually have scattered on pieces of notebook paper. I love to read about what other people are doing and thinking and analyzing and over analyzing, and so, what the hell. Here is mine.