I met a man made of paper. The ink didn’t matter once the rain fell.
I met a man made of rock. Held on so tight my body turned to pulp.
I met a man made of meat. It was impossible to preserve him.
I met a man made of gold. He never worshipped back.
I met a man made of smoke. He disappeared.
I met a man made of me. We never separated.
I relive it and relive it, can’t leave it, can’t live without it. Give it back to me until I find something else. Can’t quite reach the future, can’t quite release the past. If only I could go back to where everything is always more perfect than it was at the time. If only the future wouldn’t take so long to arrive. If only I could live in the present.
Feelings in trousers with penises and shaved heads. Dancing around me, weaving in and around my desires. Lovers that remain in your throat, in the beat of your breasts, in the words I never cease to express. Where is the man like me that can’t bear to change? We would die trying against the heat of ambition’s baying breath.
Come to me, come to me, come to me, come, come, come for me the one that is mine. I’m swinging in the air hung from the clouds by my hair never quite there. We’re trying new things with the spare time that we have but inside there are all sorts of things like clocks, disappointment, coal, desire, a lighthouse looking out for someone as helpless as I am floundering through never ever.
shall bow, in
wanted to be
A minute’s silence please for all the children that have died within me. The lifespan of a dream is the length of a rainbow in the sky. A blood moon to remind me of all the failed prophesies. A woman tossed out in a desert with only tears to wet her lips. A desire for so much more than this.
If you happen to be happy, know that it’s a happy happening, happening at the same time as many unhappy happenings around you, and in contrast to the hapless happenings of your life so far and still to come. And know that happenings whether happy or hapless will continue to happen regardless of the human will to make a happening happen.
A stallion to still my desire to ride
A story is told of a man wrongly sent to hell. After the mistake had been discovered, he was swiftly summoned to heaven to take up his proper place amongst the Angels. Feeling that there ought to be some compensation for the torture he endured under the Devils, God sent him to the seventh heaven to experience the full fineries of the after life. However, the man remained troubled, unmoved by all his rewards. The only unhappy individual in heaven, the man became an aggravation to the Lord. There could only be one remedy for one yet to be filled with His full presence. Taken by the hand of Christ, the man was led into the inner temple of heaven and there God turned to him face to face. The man became the first to die beyond death.
(‘But,” he said, “you cannot see my face, for no one may see me and live.”’ Exodus 33:20)
Do you want to come on my bad trip?
Meet me at the break of dreams.
Mingle yourself with the sunlight and flood my sanity.
Adopt my reflection and taunt me to tears.
Suggest there’s a tormentor at every turn and incite me to fight mode.
Make me think every thought and fear every possibility.
Leave my system in relief and regret till the next morning.
A series of unfortunate thoughts.
I am courage wrapped in the skin of a woman. Every night I scrape the cause from beneath my finger nails. And when I’m still they think they’ve killed me, but strength is not my stride; it’s my being.
Second guessing my whole life. As long as you’re certain then so am I… Do you love me enough to leave the universe for me?… Strong enough to stay silent. Weak enough to depend on your strength for me… If happiness means hurting, am I willing to leave happiness to be hurt free?… My little dream come true with two fingers up to the arrogant world… I will live and die by the only weapon they cannot answer for – Love.
My happy thought. My no regrets. My no fear of abandonment. My I will survive. My life is for living. My stronger. My I dare you. My begin again. My consistency. My normal.
(Dedicated to any woman who’s never experienced anything normal in her life).
Memories like dumplings sliding down my throat. Why are we just grains of sand lying on a beach that doesn’t make sense? I found a man made of planet earth formed of forever. Couldn’t look at him, couldn’t touch him, couldn’t keep him. Maybe I’ll die happy tomorrow with a legion of love stories to suffocate me in my bed. Maybe mankind will have discovered the answers by then and I will no longer be the woman of unattainable dreams.
We say Karma’s a bitch, but what kind of bitch? A bitch with no teeth, a bitch with barely a bark, a bitch that doesn’t exist, a bitch that we have created to help us believe that life’s fair, a bitch that gives us morals or at least an impetus to act as though we have them.
Karma, hellfire, justice, what goes around comes around? Where did it come from in the first place? All of the injustices that happened to us before we had a chance to behave unjustly…
Life is safer like this with everything packed into boxes, with all the wrong and right people tucked up in their little wrong and right houses, with Adam and Eve falling from the celestial sky, with Karma swirling around us tying us up in invisible knots, with judgement lurking around the next corner.
Karma is not a bitch but we are. We’re the bitches that get the reckless business of life done, who don’t fear visitation nor hope in comeuppance, who don’t have the answers but ride the questions, who know that life ain’t neat and pretty; no, it’s chaotic and fucking beautiful.
Bitches be bitches. Don’t spend your life fearing a bitch when the real bitch is you.