In the beginning

I have been pulled through a vacuum and spat out into the life I was suppose to be leading all along.
An orgy of music, drugs and drink made of sex smells and Meyers soap. Lounging in a chair by a pool filled with leaves; cigarette in hand. Both drunk already he puts his drumsticks down and half a valium on my tongue. The days go fast but I always find myself here. He inside of me but still not close enough. My arms wrap around his back, hands stroking his hair, I think of Adam and Eve and how life must have begun for them.
But I have already eaten my apples and crossed paths with snakes.
This dream-state is bound to end but not the way the envious would like.
It will end when we end.

Back in Costa

I use to think I was cursed.  Cursed with a family that could never understand me; cursed with a never ending unreciprocated love for who ever spoke sweet words to me; cursed as a woman in general.  Destined to be alone, overlooking all the love and chance and grace doused on me through all my hard times, never realizing that my filterless mind and curiosity to figure out why people are who they are and what got them there would eventually draw people to me with the same curiosity, affection and love that I had always believed existed.  

I am in love with him.  I am in love with the way he treats others, in love with his compassion, with his hurt and his ability to smile at me every morning to ask how I am.  I have always been surrounded by love and I recognize that now.  And I think he was too.  Throughout all his tough times, he knowing more than most of us will ever know, there must have been a stronger force guiding him.  He is a wonderful soul.  True to me.  To his friends. 
I should be nothing short of ecstatic to have him in my life again.  
He is not my savior nor salvation.  Nor will I say that I couldn’t live without him, but I thank God every night for allowing us to cross paths again.  If it ends it will end well, but I have a feeling in all of our deja vu’s that we have found each other for a reason.  That we are on the track we got off of years ago.  I am in love with him as a person.  Not as a crutch, not as a rebound, not as something familiar and safe; but because he is my equal and we belong together.  We deserve to finally be happy and we will return the favor to the Universe in thanks.  
We promise.

In the A.M.

Every morning I wake up before him.  Always in his nook.  Even with a shower the night before, sleeping so locked together brings the smell of him to the surface.  A sweet strong scent.  It’s only purpose-to torture me.  His body, even dormant is flirting, teasing.  I slide my hand across his chest several times before running my fingers past his waist via the gorgeous thighs I like to keep between my own.  A peck on the neck, a kiss on his pecks, working my way down.  Then, a few more meaningful kisses…


I can smell it on his lips so I press my own against his pouted smile.  I can taste it now.  It is the only thing I crave.  Take me home.  Put your hands on my breasts like they belong to you because they do.

Oh serhio….


You are so lucky I finally woke up today not hating you and hating myself a little less.
I had a few bucks left over from pay day which I spent on a nice gin, a pack of smokes and dvds.  Getting into Mad Men.  I’m already in love. 
 I can hear you smirking.
I miss you terribly.
We’re all looking for answers that don’t exist.
I still think it’s all going to end.  Not like a dream but that somehow tomorrow I’ll wake up and you’ll be in your bed.  And I’ll crawl in and bitch about all this bullshit you’ve been putting us through. 
You didn’t even look like you.  And I was in such bad shape for the funeral that it crosses with my fucked up sense of reality.
You are really dead right?
I have yet to take your cell number out. Mainly cause I totally plan on sending you some mean texts.  How rude!!!
Anyway, like I told Laura tonight, I know I didn’t love you the way you wanted, I’m sorry for that.  
I knew it wouldn’t end well. 
If I was ever right about anything…
Here is the last picture we took together.  Telling, I know.  
You were too much for this world.  I’ll see you in the next.

The Punching Bag

I use to draw Unicorns.

Over and over.  I thought I was good at it. 
I wasn’t.
I wasn’t terrible, but I wasn’t good.
I thought about when I would grow up.
And how I was going to be a fish.
How wonderful the water was going to feel.
Then I would giggle to myself remembering that people don’t grow up to be fish.
But it was a recurring daydream.
Swimming in the blue.
This transition from mammal to fish.
I could fly in my nightmares.
Always running from Evil.
As fast as I could, but slow.
Hitting with all the force in me. 
With no effect.
With a running start I would kick my feet.
Paddling through the air, higher and higher.
I don’t know what I dream now. 
Most days I can’t tell which wretched world I’m in. 
My dreamstate or the personal hell I’ve built for myself.
The segue between the two, fused with spirits
and empty kisses
I need arms with no strings
A cradler’s chest for my weeping
This bed is not warm
It is a cell.
My food is my time machine
The wine will be good and take me from this present
To the ocean
Where I can swim as I did in my previous life. 
When I was young
before the sleep disappeared and the nightmares began

The Elephant Room

Forget that the end of the world is tomorrow.
Not letting go of what was.
Hold on to the hurt and remember you lived.
And your heart is not broken but breaking still.

Time hasn’t stopped just yet.
We know it is coming but the trumpet sounds too sweet to think of the rest
It only re-ignites past fires that refuse to die.

The wine is good
Sip by sip.
Good company on this last night’s voyage.
Hungry for more before inevitable damnation.