Let Go

They keep telling us

Let Go

Let Go

Oh!

 Now I get it

Hey.

Fuck you

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Gone Girl (aka “She Cray”)

woman-w-crazy-hair

Bustling, Running,

Scurrying about…

Where did your femininity go?

You toss it out the window with all the other

Unimportant things?

Like Being, Loving, Nurturing

Took hold of what matters most, eh?

Drive, Ambition

Goal-setting!

Going at such an Incredible Pace…

But you aren’t Accomplishing anything

No you aren’t Accomplishing anything

And isn’t that the point of your broken Mad-ness?

Your endless rushing?

To get to the Thing you seek?

Funny how you ain’t really gettin’ anything

Fretting, hand-wringing

Chasing your sarong in circles

Grasping nothing

That’s the kind of thing that happens

When a woman loses her sense of

Purpose

And I don’t mean goal-setting

But when she becomes identified with the Flurry of Doing

And doing

She does

But she grasps nothing

She is all splayed about

Like the papers on her desk

Or the packets that have essentials missing

Essentials missing!

Businesses can only run for so long like that

People ain’t no different

You find that out and then Spin Out

It’s an Indy 500 car crash

You try and take me with you again

But I am not driving in that race

Anymore

I tossed that Panic-Panic-Ungroundedness

Out my window…

With all the other

Unimportant things.

The Webweaver

webweaver

I am the Webweaver

the spider

I create my own destiny

But only

Always only

Because You flow through me

Sincere humility the only thing to birth true power

Do you feel it rise up in you

like I do in me

Oh my god

the high

so heady

But there now, soft

Bring it back down

stop the threading of soul for a breath

Lest we lose our connection to what gives us our breath

Oh then, it’s amped up again

let’s connect

you and me

Webweaver and demon seed

Ravish me

Ravish me

ravish me

And it will be holy

Bad-Bad

DemonLover

Where you been

Demon-Lover friend?

You left me again

Crawling up these walls

Clawing my nails into them

But I want them in your skin instead

It’s a fantasy so

Let’s play pretend

I know you aren’t my forever man

But let’s be bad

Come to my bed; slide on in

Fuck this being good

Holding all the tension in

I want to sin with you

Sink my hooks on in

Let you do what I want you to

Front door’s open

Just come in

Allow our fantasies to live

Sweat and passion and perfectness

There’s no room for humanness with you

But I don’t want to be human with you

Lets mix with the gods for an hour or two

Because the Mundane Tomorrow always comes

It always comes

Such a bitter truth

Tonight let’s smash through collective rules

Dive deep into our own depravity

Oh, this bondage of morality!

I’m tired of it, I’m just like you

See…

Either way we stay a slave to light or dark

So why behave?

To scrawl, “I Was Good” upon my grave?

Good’s so overrated, babe

So, instead…I’ll let you in

Just come this way

Come this way

Where She Lives

anima

He dug his hands down into the Soul of things

And came up empty

Awakened, brutally, to the Other Side

Disillusioned, now

Afraid

Bitter like the dry dirt caked up his arms

From the constant digging

She calls to him, Look up, over there!

But he no longer trusts a female voice,

Even one that is not hers

If only he could get out of his own way

She is pointing him to rich soil

A well –

Wet and deep and thriving with Life Force that can sustain him

If only he can bear to try again

(Though he is so sick of trying)

To reach once more

To find what he was always meant to have —

His land.

His land.

Where She lives…

On Loneliness

dangerous-loneliness

Loneliness is sitting in the cell of your own body

Immobilized

Hearing the softened sounds from the neighborhood alternately float in and out

Like some kind of old radio

You can hear the faint laughter or warm conversation

But you don’t feel any of it because you are living in the prison of your own, lonely being

Sometimes, eyes glazed over and numb, you find you’ve wandered into the home of Depression

Then back again into the familiar ache of a heart that feels like some kind of broken stone, cracked in the deepest places

Only you know it can’t be made of what it feels like,

Because stone doesn’t feel

But you do

Sitting there in your fleshy skin and heavy bones

No plans

No one to call

Ah, you could, you know

There are people who care, which makes it all the worse

The shame that bears down slamming you for just not having it in you to

Get the fuck up

Pick up the phone

Do something

Perhaps we are in the House of Depression again, though the two share a door that never closes

What does it matter?

And then, isn’t there always One?

That one you ache for that you hardly let yourself think of

Because the impossibility of that fantasy is crippling

It is another New Year’s Eve

I can taste my loneliness

I feel it wrap it’s Nothing arms around me and squeeze

But the tears don’t spill over because they are trapped in my cracked, stone heart