Somnolence

Eloquence is beyond me, I struggle to string words together. Let alone construct sentences or hold conversations. Sometimes, my eyelashes become so heavy I can barely keep my eyes open. Phantasmagorical torments and I bite my precious little tongue. Hush baby doll. Be a good little girl and eat your medicine. Keep your poisonous little thoughts to yourself and stop tormenting the other children. Anomalous little child. Lamentable of course, but inadequate none the less.

Sensibility

I close my eyes and it feels as though my lungs are collapsing inside my chest. My ribcage fractures as it is compressed. My skin is tearing beneath my fingertips and I know that this is too far. There are no delightful little excuses. She would be so utterly repulsed and knowing this breaks my heart. I swallow this whole. It seems I broke down, let go, sold out. But I speak of months not irreparable damage. Collect myself together and allow myself to breathe. Perception is everything. "It is not how the world views you baby girl, but how you view the world" I await her with my pound of flesh.

Amour-propre

"Surreal as I could not swallow. My self worth lapsed amid a sea of cruel reflections. Not I. Of all these creatures. A fox amid the rabbits. But I became entangled. Just as they do. I clutched at my heartbeats as they fluttered from my chest leaving only hollow undulations. Fingernails carve out tiny maps of my struggles and I clutch at anything now to ground me. Bare foot upon the soil and I cannot connect myself. My mind plays little games and I find myself so painfully alone in front of this audience. More than seventy breathes for every minutes and I close my eyes as tight as they will go. I drowned in self loathing. My eyes still shut tight. I felt her breath upon my spine as she enclosed me in her arms. Tiny little butterfly kisses on my vertebrae and I am found."

Darling, you saved me from myself.  We would spend days at a time in bed together, hiding under covers and whispering our darkest secrets.  Endless pots of English tea.  You would read me your poetry and sing me to sleep. I have painted you a thousand times.  It breaks my heart I will never feel your hand in mine again.  I will never look into your Bambi eyes.  You have broken my heart Lucille.  I just do not know how to handle this.

Demure kitten is rather demure.

“The secret to staying young is to live honestly, eat slowly, and lie about your age.”

This time of year always makes me come undone a little.  Yet another year passes me by and I spend a couple of days hysterical and alone.  Normally in bed, surrounded by cake and empty spirit bottles.  This year has been the worst year by far.

What the fuck am I doing with my life?

Once in a blue moon.

He calls me after midnight, it must have been three years since we last spoke. We speak in whispers and he tells me of all the ways he longs for me after all this time. He tells me of how everything has fallen apart with his lady. How the cracks have begun to show. I tell him he is in love with the memory and how I am not the creature he longs for anymore. We wandered into each other's lives almost ten years ago, and have been falling in and out of each other's beds ever since. Never together, but never far from it. In all that time there was never a time where both of us were not spoken for. He was my comfort. The number with the heart next to it in my little black book. I have missed his voice. Missed his touch. We left on bittersweet words. I helped him to find the perfect diamond ring. He found the girl I could never be. Would never want to be. I kissed him for the last time and cut all of the ties. I rarely speak of him. But once in a blue moon I am consumed with the loss of him. Not that I would ever tell him this. He asked to collect me, then drive me to the coast so we could play in the ocean like we used to. I politely declined and asked him to speak to his girl. With a heavy heart I tell him I don't want him to call me anymore. He tells me he understands. He doesn't understand. I long for him tonight and he belongs to someone else. It is a blue moon above my empty bed tonight.

There's no place like home.

"If you don't know what you want, you end up with a lot you don't. "

Chuck Palahniuk

A month ago I  bid farewell to the City Of Villains.  All of my possessions were gathered into cardboard boxes and I left my home of almost four years.  I don't think I have ever cried so much, drank or chain smoked to such an obscene extent. I left in a tangle of horrific arguments, uninvited voyeurs and cruel last words.  It almost destroyed me.

And it has taken me a month to land on my feet.  But I have.  And I am content.

Truly content.