purge

in her breath i do weep.


she tells me of life, of surrender, of goddess divine. she explains in detail the experience of detachment, of refinement, of ambush and decline. she recites devotion and proclaims release. she devours expectation and rejoices inner peace. her ability to love beyond their hate is something i've painstakingly had to learn to embrace. i find sorrow in her lust. i find weak in her strong. my love for her is so thick, it burns.


there is no more room for love in this heart of mine. she has taken up every last space. but i would still give her more if she asked. reaching to every extremity my limbs do possess. i'd die for her i said, i'd die for her. i would kill my own breath.


can love become so vicious that i strangle my very heart that beats and bangs so malignantly beneath my chest? does she know how utterly hard it is to contain the pain that so violently thrashes himself against the walls of my breast? do i dare tell her of this mess.


i want to cry and scream so hard that my chest fucking explodes and bleeds red all over her linen sheets. i want to stab my heart so hard my last breath leaves me for nothing and i choke away my gut-wrenching feat. i want to curl up into fetal position and know what it feels like to have somebody cradle me back. to have my mother cradle my back. to have my mother love me back. to have my mother back. to have my mother back. to have my mother back. to have my mother back. to have my mother back. i want my mother back.


i hate so much that I'm weak. because i try so hard to be strong. but in the end, i will always wish she had never gone. i was too young, i was too young.


I'm sorry mother. i will never love anyone more intensely than i do you. and i know it's because i will never have you like i used to.






the tears are cold and my chest empty. it makes me feel so lonely. a lovers heartache could never match the loss of a daughters mom.

i saw a falcon. then i saw another. but this was only a forshadow of my future.

sometimes i want him to hurt so bad his hours start to bleed into days. a rotting corpse under the burning sun.
i would like to see his face when i walk out the door. better yet, his shame when i don’t return.

because this is what it feels like. he’s making me stale. but this has been happening for quite some time now.
incapable of harnessing any sense of control, he fights the raging battle; tormented at sea by his own unwillful creation. the antithesis of co-anthing, his selfishness encompasses all that he breathes.
and then there’s me. trailing behind his seemingly tattered and weary boat, there i so incautiously reside. choked by the neck, the rope pierces my skin like a thousand rusted needles. up and down, up and down, around, they rip and pull at my tolerance. my sickening endurance.
i gasp for air. but here, breath does not exist. the salty sin burns and boils my lungs. my tounge is numb. my eyes cry blood. and he trails on.
where. am. i.

hearts are burning.

quiet lies and secret tears. wake me up, the sun is dying.

i have seen the earth tremble before me, i have watched the oceans quake. but never before have i witnessed, this sacrificial blaze. between night skies and earthen days, we wear black to bury the ashes we warily reap. and seethe and sow them into the grasses we then solemnly eat.

with vieing eyes, she doth pledge: the fire and water alike will burn holes through the veils you call death.

plight.

i pay homage to my land. the land of the awakened sea. it is a vicious sea, masquerading around what i thought was the intrinsic eye, but instead, the open wound of the swollen womb. her eyes are made of steel and her hands are covered in scars. the color of her skin, fair, but the open pores seep natures bloody dispair. she's not so transparent anymore. but my impending love is still there. holding on to every last hair, she sheds. and i recklessly grasp on to more. ripping out strand by strand in utter desperation for just a moment of her lost stare. she cries golden tears from under her steel lash, but remains still, as i grab those too, a figment of the past. and as she keeps her rigid head turned from the sight of my plight, ceasing all inhabition, she punishably says goodbye.
and that is when my fallen hands became limbs, for they could never betray their kin as she did.


i miss loving her.

shopping second hand is an art form all on its own.

http://secondskinstyle.blogspot.com/

i am fashionably inspired.

shes got amazing clothes, a keen eye, and a great sense of style.. and it's every bit my taste (vintage, vintage, vintage), gotta love it!!



i've got to start posting some of my finds, maybe i'll start wearing them more often! aand we should start having vintage tea parties or vintage wine tastings or vintage whatever so we can all get dolled up and prance around reno (or gardnerville or carson or... paris?) in our AMAZING outfits!! haha.. i'd do it ;)

really though, i love her blog, check it out. and better yet, shes actually selling these amazing finds at her Etsy shop!! GO before I snag em' alllllll!! ;)

grateful dead and a midwest boy, a day for the veterans.

What is it about winter months, long drives, and Bon Iver? Can you smell the evergreen? I still can.

A bee flew into the window. Its yellow and black skin lay still on the shield amidst the wind. It stays in plain sight. The first thing I think: Christ. The second: mother.

My name is Dominique. I am a child of god. Not a king of greatness. I don’t claim holiness, but I aspire for truth.

I saw arils at the store packaged in red. I thought of the mother and her many children, her many a creation. I thought of her intentions and whether or not I was apart of them.

My papa asked about my sister. And tears came to my eyes. I remembered the last thing she said to me. “Here, take it. I sprayed my perfume on it so you’ll remember me.” and I loved her, more than any heart could say “I love you.” And it was at that moment that my voice vanished, my stomach crooned and my crippled heart sank. Then she was gone; and everything became very still. My chest had become the empty void I was trying so hard to constrain. I never would have thought.

He. I remember his hair, his black curly hair. I remember his glasses, his smile, his voice.. his low sultry voice. I remember the way he thoughtfully moved his hair across his eyes, nose, then ears. I remember his uncertainty, his timid reactions and insecure replies. And I remember the look in his eyes; they spoke in ways I never thought were possible, then. They told me things I only understood with him. And then we were holding hands. And then we were sharing lips. And then we were touching skin. And then we were making breakfast for one another, buying secrets for each other, sliding spare keys onto chains for the other. He and I became nothing other than we. And we was magnificent for a while; a short while… until we turned back into I. and it all started slipping away. “We’re in this together,” I said, “we’re a team.” His constant opposing forces broke down my defenses, and that’s when the concept of ‘care’ was obliterated and completely washed away. I watched it as it drifted further and further out with the ebb and flow of shame. And I let it. With outstretched arms, my bloody fire became a quiet charcoaled burn and there was no more fuel to ignite such failure. It died.

And now, the ghost lives on. We still hold hands, share lips, touch skin, make stories, share keys, and dream together. But it’s not the same. The ghost of what it once was watches us as we scream, following us everywhere we go, reminding us of what we once had; keeping us holding on to something that lies six feet under land.

from where i came..

the land that pierced through my heart with the golden spear.

it flooded my being with the grace of the whitest of Light,

willfully raceing through the crown of my head.

ever expanded,

ever surrendured.

the land of many a tear shed, for this is where her yearning womb bled.

where the mountains wed earth and sky, she too watched her body die.

where the pain of submission and ecstacy of union collide,

she too watched as her psyche concieved alive.

that land that brought breath to my being

and a child to her eyes,

remains still.

as a vital moment in time.