rewind*repeat

repetition makes me feel safe.
put it on a loop
knit me into the length of it
keep it going
I feel myself growing older
my face is new everyday
I have no idea what I look like
keep doing it
one day it will feel real
one day this life will be un-hooked from the whirling machines
and just
run on momentum
stop peddling as it coasts downhill
air
and fast tears
 skin and hair
a person on a loop
a strangers face on a body
a body with a whirling heart machine
spinning
no matter what it keeps going
the fast tears and same song keep coming
the loop is always
the loop is for realz

river and raft

Every night I crawl in like its a secret page turning

Every day I dream of being under the covers. It's warm quiet pink soft empty of need- it asks nothing of me but to remain horizontal, it is very dark, non verbal.

How did this manic life end up in this slow thick dream river?

It's collecting debris alongside the tree roots and I am spotting lost rings, favorite pens, used silverware, battered linens woven in the mossy roots, crusted to the massive trunk.

Navigating this part of the river life is like trying to stay on top of a beach ball pushed underwater.

I am being tossed off as it pops up and flies away. I swim against the wind to get at it again. 

All my muscles are burning and my fishnets are collecting pebbles and doll furniture in the saggy feet.

I am trying to catch my breath in putty water land. Mist clings to my eyelashes and fly away hairs, each drop is grey with an ice cube world waiting

my limbs hang like poured cement into a girl shaped body cast. Each wrist, each ankle have baby floaties squeezed onto them. They are electric orange and the white flesh bulges out like raw dough.

But this will prevent the body from dying. This side affect is very normal. 

This is how it feels now. The body bread rising. Injected with blood thickeners like cornstarch water blood pushing against the skin, sculpted by the ripples, dented by the domestic debris.

This is the shape you have to exist in, a hundred barn animal sounds ring out as the arrow swirls around, the popcorn vacuum has condensed and moves like a space helmet down the river.

Every morning I wake up, out of the pages folded softly over my shipwrecked body, step out of my bed and into this cluttered river.

choking in the water, band-aides flapping open like  mini flags, audible breathing and treading water.

An all day episode of trying.

Every night  I escape to the mirage. Soft, dark, quiet, non verbal, a page slowly turning me in.

The Pastor said we struggle

Lets forget Easter ever happened
never call her again

ache

sleep in so late you miss therapy, the gym, lunch, working, morning heartache.
Lets pretend your okay with the silence
she leaves on her bike

clunks to the sidewalk
panties showing
lace dress and choking-this is pastel painful

her bike and your bike are not locked together


she never calls again

months


night after night

In yoga class all the tears fall upside down
run over your forehead and into your ears
your scalp is salty
Lets forget the feeling of tears working their way down your
upside down face
crawling rivers
exhale

Silence,
but inside it is terrible: the insulation is exposed
it's pink like cotton candy and sharp
the floor is just cold cement with a small spider moving in the corner
it has all capsized- it is really terrible in here.


Okay: crawl under the couch
in the dark shadow slit
and sleep

dream of anything but her

little egg

tears & stuffed

L word annoying
facebook kill me
taxi cab stop talking smells and slower than the bus
nails are long and shiny still,
leftover pineapple
Vitamin water

ALL I want is my pink bed to swallow me, digest me
I turn into tiny pink pillow hearts
collected
put in vending machines
picked up by claws
hugged by children
given to lovers in february

cried into

all my cotton is soaked with sea salt tears
washed up on the shore
a dog toy
pink fades to brownpeach
I am swallowed by the ocean
I am a sea sponge

Tiny sea bugs live inside me
from inside they see everything, the bubbles, deep sea parties and the fish drama
they fight and cry and swim away angrily
they go home to their cold coal reef and float about all night wondering

when you cry underwater the rays and crabs don't notice
you can cry so much
the plankton hear you
they float by and listen

It hurts like a handstand in the waves, crashing into your upside down body
all the wind knocked out of you
salty body sideways, water in your nose and stinging eyes
you lie there, foam crackling along the human shape
you sink into the sand
you are digested by zillions of sandcrabs
pink acrylic nails surface along the hard sand eventually.

Ten shiny pebbles shaped like fingernails, with faded glitter
The pink is very bright,
the salt preserves the pink.

zillions of tears crash horizontal

girls come here and cry all the time

sometimes they take little pink pebbles into their hands, squeeze them and wish for help
zillions of wishes happen like this

their necks are wet with pink tears
their pebble inside the tight hand is throbbing

(cat calls and running dogs and screaming children all happen outside the human shape)

she imagines a claw lifting her out of the sandbox machine
dropping her into a chute
into the paws of a white stuffed kitten with a pink bow and blue eyes.
Forever she falls asleep to dry cotton spooning and cartoon purring.

night 1 without

Magical things happened last night.

I looked down into the water from the library bouchany above. A single silk button up shirt swirled just below the surface, the caretaker said it had been swirling in circles there for years, weaving and unweaving itself. 

Silkworm swirl.

Along the surface of the water zillions of cucumber type creatures that zipped along in perfect lines like an LA freeway. 

They never stop zipping, it was like the water itself, always glistening, always moving. 

I turned away from the solid rail walked just a few paces to climb up a shallow hill. 

It was encrusted with gold picture frames, dolls, antiques, science experiments, exotic plants, inventions, trinkets. I leaned against the hill and it nestled me in, like sitting on a french couch, it held me as I watched the students below. 

No teachers were present. They sat in groups and had very nice clothes and good manners. 

The only real reason I snuck into this school was because I fallowed X here. She was down below spread out atop the moss, being lonely.

 I wanted to join her, but she was very busy in her loneliness.

 I decided to flirt with some of the rich girls. Every last one of them had on a highly pigmented jacket in wild patterns and shapes, they were the most beautiful jackets I had ever seen. They were made out of an unidentifiable material, they radiated. All the girls sat in a circle on the ground with a few boys inter-dispersed wearing ties and nerdy faces. 

I squeezed between two girls, sorta pushing them apart, both high school aged, no one knew I was years beyond collage, I looked just like them- 

only homeless.

Trying to coax one into taking me to the movies, I don't know what happened, but there was a vase and I suppose I threw it, I don't know how or why. But I was responsible for the boy who went running to the restroom with a large cut-hole taken out of his cheek.

Instantly I felt awful... perhaps it was an accident???

He eventually returned and the open hole was now just a pink swollen closed cut. I offered to get bandages or anything.  He said "nah", he was fine, maybe just a cup of coffee. 

I said he may want to avoid acidic things w/ an open wound, I couldn't remember if it was for open mouth issues or bladder infections to avoid acidic drinks and food, but regardless I wouldn't get him the coffee.

I snuck into the movies there on campus, I stashed my white trash bag of stuff in a hallway by the bathroom. When I peed the door would not lock and X came it. We talked about sneaking out of the building. 

We jumped out the bathroom window and ended up loosing our train tickets and belongings but strangely on the road below we had our pet dog back. It was more like a stuffed animal dog. I was not afraid of it. It was sort of like a half human baby, half stuffed animal dog. 

I never did end up making out with any of the private school girls in the jackets. It was a nice feeling of escapism being there. Being an adult and not having a home or job, being held in this fancy high school, pretending to belong, feeling free and young in that mahogany lined space.

again

dear dream people,
Please send me something else.
I'll do anything for a time out. Send me a sanctuary.
Why must she come every night? It makes the missing her worse, it's a cigarette burn on the skin,
every night re-opened.
every night just as painful.

dreamself and hermusic

Before I went to bed last night, my roommates phone, keys and puffer had all been lost or stolen throughout her evening, poof gone, not drunk at a club poof but, monday night sober poof. She was being hilarious about the whole fiasco and I was cracking up just before I got ready to hit the reading light and jump into my fantastically cozy princess bed.

I don't often have laughing juice running through my body before being horizontal for the next 5 to 8 hours, so I was imagining this was a good sign, an endorphin spell perhaps to ward off the nightmares that have a strangle hold on my subconscious as of late.

Every morning I have been waking into the human world, the sturdy bed frame, the shut blinds, the pile of clothes with stale glitter and hairspray clung to their insides, solid wood floor, crisp white ceiling with a cake trim crown molding, real world.... waking out of the epic, tragic nightmares. Tears all over my face, heart racing and covers woven around in a macrame sculpture cocooning my shaking body.

I asked the world out loud if I could not dream of her.

The past 2 nights it was unbearable, I awoke feeling ripped to shreds, a paper-shredded doll of a person.

The laughing juice did not help. I woke up this morning after seasons of dream time tragedies in one human night equivalent.

 I was in a class room and were presenting our work in the front of the class. The teacher said only come up if you had it completed.  I kept looking at the back of the CD and trying to figure out which track number matched up with which title, they where holographic and the alignment of the two changed are you moved it. there where colorful drawings done in maker and the font was all hand done too, animals and zig zag shapes, really beautiful.
 As I watched the holograms and tried to read it I saw her name
written: "all lyrics by XX".
 Just seeing her name spelled out had a tremendous affect on me.
XX
 no way to describe the feeling... like a digging in the chest- a low thuddy beating, a sledge hammer against  enclosed parking lot pavement, echo-ey, cold, a terrible vibration.
Had I ever left one with this feeling before??? I am so so so sorry...It is dry heaving, it is your face on the porcelain seat, tears stacked up like a shelf inside the eyes.

The cellophane wrapper was tricky with my dream hands, I struggled for a long time to open it, then the plastic case and popping out the actual CD, everything was laborious as my heart thumped, my hands shook and the tears became apart of my presentation outfit.

I picked a title that sounded familiar and sad, as I read it I tried to imagine what the lyrics might say, what it could sound like, what I would do for my presentation. I stood up and said I had never even heard my song, that I was going to improv and walked over to the boom box. 

I had trouble finding the correct buttons to make it work, my dream hands touched all the knobs, it played like a tape. I cranked the volume up to max and began my dance.

Rather than staying in the front of the classroom I instantly flung myself between a row of desks where everyone sat stunned. I had on a wet leotard and wet hair, bare feet. I was crying and crawled across the desks, fell off backwards and slithered between the desk and chair legs on the dirty linoleum floor. The music was erratic and I spazzed out, my hair all wild like vines wrapped around my face, no one could see the tears, it was all just one big cathartic mess, the teacher watched silently from the front of the room.

 I was all alone in it.

None of the students had faces, just a little gasp mouthes here and there.

Later in the dream I showed up at a club house in San Francisco-Olympia and had my bike. All the girl club members were super rude and said I couldn't lock my bike here or there. I was extremely nice to them as I kept moving along to different spaces in the wear house and ended up stashing my bike in this little hallway. The dudes were super rude to me as well, I was like a second class citizen because I was not a member. The rest of the dream goes down hill in a way that I'd rather not even think about it. I'd like to just delete it from my memory. The parts above are sadly the light hearted moments.