Autumn

A breeze of perfume,
suggestion of age,
entrances the senses,
clearing haze from dog days.

First shadows of fall,
opens dimensions,
allowing the soul to
catch up on reflection.

Fading of life,
crescendo of passion,
To feel more alive,
as a form of regression.

Herein the golden leaves
hold their cotillion,
catching the last light
while waiting for snow;
spirits phase into
a vast celebration,
while Hecate smiles
and sways to and fro.

Spontaneity

I think  I may have lost the spark to write poetry. : / I mean, I already knew I wouldn't be doing much with it, but I can't grasp why I suddenly feel out of inspiration. Am I tired? Too busy? That never seemed to bug me before. Although, after my laptop went out, I've been very worried about the small collection of poems I had been forming over some time. I had about thirty at the time, and now I don't know if I can recover them. A good portion of them exist in different parts of the internet, so that's relieving as long as I don't get hacked, but at least 5 or 6 may never reach my eyes again. And they're not necessarily things I have memorized. I know I wrote one bit of prose about the tragic and short tale of a frog and a baby bird. I know I won't remember exactly how I wrote it, and that really upsets me, nor will I attempt to write it again. Perhaps my universe is merely shrinking. It seems I am missing my wonderings about life; uncertainties have been replaced by mute facts indifferent to hopes of the future and past. I suppose my mind is settled on matters of business recently, and  I would rather complete tasks as I have time to complete them, and creative thought patterns sometimes require more effort than I have energy left for.
On a separate note, I hope visiting back up here is short. I'm already having allergy symptoms. Damned dryness. I want to be back in reasonably humid Sacramento.

Carry me...

There are times, I fear, that I suffer an odd affliction. Only a sensation, oddly; yet it that it should disturb me more than any illness I scarcely know why. The consciousness quakes, even for the simple cause of such a sensation. Though I mostly dare not speak of it, lest I be considered vain or fanciful. I have discovered it near impossible to watch acts of physical torture without reflecting a sensation of torture myself. The condition has improved, however slightly; for years I could not even bear to see such material in writing. Yet even today such a  physical response would arise in my flesh that it was at times unfathomable, as if my corpse were trying to unsuccessfully attempt severe agony, and instead relinquish to throes of sickness. The tremors which seem to imitate rushing blood under the skin of my bony wrists; they disgust me for their lack of disguise for I know my heart has not increased in tempo. The quiver of flesh falls shy to the sensation of rending, yet it persists until I desire to rend with my own human claws. There have been moments when the affected locale extends to other areas of my body represented in film. Thus it becomes even more of a torment than I am able to comprehend. I never scream for fear of embarrassment and ridicule. My plan usually consists of no more than averting my gaze from the picture, and applying pressure to stop the rushing. I still cannot say why exactly I experience the affliction, only theorize. Perhaps it is a psychosomatic symptom relating to a different matter regarding my psyche; perhaps it is my device to never allow my  own desensitization towards humanity, or even far-lost memories acquired from long before my infancy. Whatever the cause, the only option is to try and live reasonably. My only fear lies in its ability to control me.

Subdued

I know it's from another place I posted on, but it was too interesting for me not to show somewhere else.


I saw a woman at a crosswalk today as we sat at a light on Howe. She seemed normal for a moment, though she looked slightly perturbed and upset. I almost expected her to start crying, but to my surprise she did begin to cry, as well as shout. She was dressed as I was today, actually. Black stretchy tank top, dark blue jeans, and sandals, carrying a clear Starbucks drink. She started shouting wildly, appearing to accuse someone who would have been standing somewhere between the ether around her to somewhere in the middle of traffic. It was soundless to me, of course, but I should have rolled down my window to hear her. I thought perhaps she was wearing a bluetooth and was yelling into it, but I saw no devices on either hear, and no phone in her hand. I dismissed her being crazy as a possibility as well; she didn't have that demeanor. It seemed as if she was trying to pour her heart out to someone she would never be able to speak to, or else pleading for spiritual guidance. Too late I thought about tossing her my ring; I didn't know why I had that instinct either, it's a precious possession of mine. I felt bad too that I had thought about it only as the light turned green. How could a ring help her anyway. Then I thought about it: My ring is silver, with a heart shaped into the center. Perhaps I had thought subconsciously to remind her somehow that there is love and caring in her life, even if it is only she who supplies it. Also, I had imbued it with my purpose recently, and thought perhaps it would do better to serve her purpose. I hope I see her again, so I can either give her the ring, or see her with a happier face.

Now then

To everyone who follows me(that is, positively NO ONE), I have an account with paganspace.net. I love it. :) I know I don't post on here often, or at all, really, but I still follow those I want to follow!! :D

Sacramento!!

Well, I don't have to worry about Sacramento anymore, I got accepted. <3 Now I just have to worry about getting the money to go to school down there. :P

On a side note, I had a dream last night about catching birds. They were extremely colorful and exotic looking , and would flap up for a few moments, then stop and drift back down, and repeat this over and over again until they would eventually reach the ceiling in my house. They seemed very content, and I enjoyed repeatedly catching them and letting them go again. Then I saw a tiny grey one, the size of a finch, and it was so precious and adorable that I wanted to catch it. I got distracted by a cat outside the window, but I let it in and it didn't disturb the birds, so I continued my pursuit. The little bird was moving similarly to the other birds, so I caught it pretty quickly, and when I opened my hands to let it go, it sat in my hands instead. I think it has something to do with how free I feel in relationships. The grey one probably symbolizes my most important one currently between Sam and I.

I'm a tooth-pick holder!!

That's what she said. :P So the every day post promise I gave has already been cut down, obviously. I thought about posting a very long-winded rant about the biggest fucking idiot I've ever met the other day, but after giving this long-winded rant in person about six times to different people, my brain decided it was tired of hearing about it. Maybe I'll post it some other day, you know, during one of those "I feel like laughing in retrospect to something completely ridiculous and worthless" kind of days. So, during a finals day. :P Or maybe midterms.

Also, I'm trying to find a job. And on this subject, I'm pretty sure every employer in Redding just met with each other and has come to the conclusion that I am not hirable. "For God's sake, she's 21 and has never been employed?" "I bet she's mentally retarded." "Wow, she's never available." "Well, it says on the application that she's in her fourth year of community college." "Well that means she's a loser, and probably has no ambition." "I'll bet it means she's leaving soon, and we don't want to put in time to hire someone else in six months." "She probably wants to be able to transfer, too." "Yeah, right!!"

They're all in cahoots, I know it. >.>

John MUIRRRRR!!!!

I think I've decided it's a good idea to try to post every day. Or at least every day I have something interesting to say. Which is not today, but it is good practice for me, I don't write much to myself anymore. Eh, talk to ya later. :P

By the way, I've had sooo many odd dreams recently. I think I should share some of them at some point, as a display of my crazy. Yes, I wrote that last phrase on purpose. And for fun. On a side-note, I love my hair. It's thick, dark, straight, longer, and heavy as hell, but the cool thing is that if I ever need my hair done/someone wants to play with it, they can do amazing things with it(Yeah they, I can't do hair). :P Also, organic Cheetos and Diet Cherry Dr. Pepper make pretty damn good snacks. Highly irregular snacks for me, but I also think my stomach would have protested to hummus at this hour.

Soooo..........

It's been so goddamned long since I've posted anything on here. Though truthfully, I kind of wanted to forget it existed. To no avail. There is just too much good poetry and goodies from my tormented period to delete it. ;P I feel like anything I write, even utter bullshit, deserves a place of permanence in reality somewhere. Because they are my honest thoughts, no matter what. No one even has to see them, they just need to exist. :3

Anxious

I know it's only a possibility in a handful of possibilities at this point, but I can't overlook the fact that I could very well be pregnant. I've heard it could possibly be other, hormone-based problems, but considering that there was an incident, and I don't have a history of hormone fluctuations, I just don't know. I won't panic, I've got enough self control to keep that from happening.

Yule

Ah, lightning on the night of Winter Solstice. What better energetic combination? :3

Prose Poetry ftw

In the languorous curves of a liquid universe, Nyx thrives in the sleep of a primordial darkness, shimmering under a starry blanket of hair that spreads out in smooth tendrils. The space takes a variety of landscapes from her hair. The gossamer of music gently awakens her form, yet quickly stirs her soul, causing the thick viscous space about her to churn and twinkle with vibrant quality. From this, light is brought forth, yet the nature of the surrounding nothingness is neither less prominent, nor is it altered. It is a substance found in massive quantities, yet completely insubstantial in and of itself.

It's Been a While...

The earth rotates ever so slowly, again and again I feel the sting and warmth of the summer sun; let the breeze and silver of night caress me. Amazing how the simplest of things can both ease pain and intensify it simultaneously, until you're left back at square one. The tethers I've created around me may help throughout my life, but they also prevent me from keeping a relationship. I still love you, but I have at least locked you away for now, where even I cannot bother you. I still don't quite understand why you are that precious to me. I would like to call you my twin flame, if that's not being too arrogant. However, if that is truth, then I must be confident that we will one day meet again, under better circumstances. However, my mission for now must be to stick to the material plane.

The Poem

Don't stop to listen
just keep walking by
photographs and memories
keep the dead nearby

Like telemarketers and bills
she just can't leave him alone
she thinks of life beyond those hills,
beyond those hills, far from her home.

Somewhere east he seeks a new life,
Somehow wading west,
she knows it isn't for her sake,
but knows it's for the best.

His body pounds through the ether,
she knows he's still trying,
she can't help, but holds a silent vigil
sitting, but not prying.

How long can this happen,
this tenuous spiritual pressure she feels?
Sporadic and dangerous still is the love,
afraid of the damage she can deal.

Stay near, my heart, I cannot hold thee now. It is only for another I can live, I vow.
How can she repair it?
How can she repair it?

Energized :D

More than I have been in a great while. Summer had put my mind and spirit in a haze. But now I am back, and utilizing tools the way they ought to be. I must remember to use my past experiences to keep me from making the same mistakes, and use my emotions to fuel my power instead of dragging me down. I must be in control, lest I be taken advantage of. There are times often when I am not willing to be strong, but I must remain in control of myself. I will be a spirit warrior, when the time comes. I must stop doubting so much. I know there are more than just the few of us now. Unity is imperative, as is spiritual growth. Only time and practice will tell, but I must focus now. I will always love you, but I have a lifelong mission to complete, and I am far behind.

Frustration with a capital Fuck!!!

It has to end soon, it has to. This is one of those moments where I feel like falling to my knees and taking the earth within my grasp, only to shake it violently and scream into it,"What's wrong with me?!?!" And no one will have an answer, not even the spirits. Of course, I won't do that; I refuse to go down so quickly. I can be fine in one moment, but the instant a stream of his consciousness comes into mind, I'm holding back tears in public because of the guilt it seems I'm paying for everyday, not to mention feeling ungrateful that Ben is trying to stick with it all the way because he can't let go of me for how he feels either, and also frustration with him that he keeps trying and it just seems like I'm falling deeper into debt. I never thought I would view love as a debt to pay. Yet I feel obligated to do something, but the price he's asking is something I'll never be able to pay. One string from another world still bonds me from the rest of mine.

Disquieting Silence.

Quiet. The spirit is quiet; I'm too tired to fight for now. The hurt is not yet gone, but is subdued for now, until I can think of a better "plan". Yesterday I could not cry, so the rain did it for me. I stood outside in the dark and the rain, letting the rich, hot, and damp clay aroma waft up to me while my eyes looked up and let rain drops fall directly into them. It didn't even hurt. I even giggled. I need to smile more, but I can't act a smile anymore. I stopped caring. I need a way to become truly happy. I'm starting to look older because I can't lift the weight of my own face.

A wave, and then
Another.
A sharp desire,
A drifting
Longing.
A white Sensation,
leaves him weak.
Warmth.
Return soon.
Survival is not
A
Guarantee.
But,
Passion is
Passion is
Torture.
A Touch.
Is all I
Ask.
Still
Selfish.
Am I?
I'm Lost.

Losing...

The mind is more absorbed every day. It frustrates me to be able to think of nothing more than him, like an unhealthy obsession. I'd be almost positive it is one by this point, if it weren't for the entire purpose of this. And I'm not violent or overzealous enough to fit the part. I just feel plagued by what feels like unfinished business. I know that if I don't hear anything from him by a certain point in time, I can continue planning the trip, but that somehow does nothing to calm my spirit. I'd rather hear anything from him, even a sharp rebuke, instead of trying to plan for something entirely tumultuous and uncertain. A couple of dreams ago I saw him again, laying by my side as what often pops into my dreams before I awaken. But instead of the normal, painful imagined intimacy, he was whispering, consolingly but still somewhat urgently into my ear. I could not make out what he was trying to say, as if it were too quiet and I too far away, or perhaps in another tongue I could not comprehend. I'm not sure exactly what the dream means, if anything. I feel like curling up into a ball and quitting. I quit too easily, and I set myself up for failure often. Let us hope I hear something soon.

Just a Letter

Just one message can bring down the "world" you have set up around you. I still don't know if it was a good idea to send it. I'm waiting to see now if there will be a return message that either tears down moe of my world, or builds it up. I feel like I'm getting close to ground zero. Perhaps I really don't deserve forgiveness. Maybe I deserve to have our worlds separated forever. It's painful, it's painful. It's painful.