Tag Archive: phoenix

Sometimes You Just Have To Channel The Fire


Sometimes you just have to channel the fire
Of dreams you have dreamt; of all you desire
Into the heart of a phoenix whose song you hear true
And let hope spring eternal, like the flame within you


Future Ink, I Think


Lest I forget who I wish to keep becoming.

Too Much Clutch

I found my Hercules
And I fear I’ve already driven him away
Perhaps he is just busy
Because that’s what he said he was
All I know is that the communication was in troves
The sex was amazing
And he thought so too
But now I haven’t heard a word

Patience, Ray.
Que sera, sera.

And if he doesn’t want you,
[don’t] fuck him.
He’s not worth it.
You are an Amazonian Sex Goddess and they should be kneeling at your feet.

Hope is fine, but not entangled in despair.

Already I grow weary of being alone.
Having many notches is fun, and all, but still no one holds me tight all through the night.
I am lonely and forgotten.
Whirlwinds of lives lived around me,
I stand watching, longing to jump on to the manic roundabout
But no one has offered me a hand yet.

So I stand,
A lone phoenix
Without a fire 
To keep me warm. 

I Thought Wrong

I thought he was kind
I thought he was true
I thought he was wonderful
Until he chose you

Here, Where the Letters Began

Dear You,

I have decided to write you a letter every time I have something to say to you. I will not send them. They will go here. Every time I would have otherwise texted you something about my life, I will tweet it. It will go out into the ether and therefore no longer be inside of me.

Each and every day I grow a little closer to the day I am a tattoo’d woman, marked and scarred by choice. Something I’ve always aspired to be: a woman with enough of a backbone and hide to do what she wants, even if it means self-mutilation against her mothers wishes. Doesn’t it sound crass if you put it that way? But her philosophy, as you and I are well aware, is why would a person pierce her ears either; “would puncturing holes in your body make you feel you feel more beautiful? I think you’re beautiful just the way you are.” 

But, as Ingrid Michaelson says, “If I was stronger then I would tell you no / If I was stronger then I would leave this show   / And I was stronger then would up and go / But here I am and here we go again” — Except that this time I really have done it. And it is the right thing. Then why why why, PM, am I so devastated?

My heart; my heart feels like it is being encased with lead that is slowly being cranked tighter, with every breath I take, every thought, every image, every memory. I can’t escape you because I let you in too deep and so now you are stuck, swimming in the murky waters of my mental health. I am just as responsible for the co-dependency, perhaps not the emotional manipulation, though. You crushed me all on your own and you are crushing me now.

I must extricate myself from you. And so instead of pouring this intimacy, this mind speak, this utter truth to you, I will leave you to your libido and your narcissism and your self-service and I will be free. And someone, somewhere, I do not know how or who (and I have to find Myself Within Myself first), but someone will love me exactly as I am, including how not only to avoid the triggers but how to soothe them. This person will anticipate my every fluctuation, better than I know my own pulse, because I’ve always been better at watching and remembering than paying attention to my own tides. And so I will carry this person as this person carries me. 

What I am learning is that in order to be happy, of course I must be functional in my own independent right. I never lost that during our time; look at the credentials I racked up. And so good for you for barely scraping through; I understand, finally, that we simply have irrevocably different units of measurement when it comes to evaluating success and purpose. You have been holding me back from one thing (and that is not my acclaim): my happiness. As in, my bliss. 

I have spent too long wanting you to just fucking step one more foot my direction, instead of resisting all the time, ignoring, arguing, sneering, disregarding, sleeping through, smoking through whatever it was. And yes, thank you for laughing, thank you for loving, but now PM I am sure when I say it was not enough. It was more than I’ve received ever in one concentrated stream from one person and being the person that I am I lapped it up.

But what I am coming to know now is that I deserve and will find so much better. Better than you, better for me, better to me, meaning which in turn why will I ever have a reason to tell him that he is inadequate please give me more [ time / affection / focus / space / insight / truth ? ] — Oh god, the questions I have asked of you that you never even tried to consider. 

I have been stunted and I have been manipulated into being ashamed of my self. My reactions, my interpretations, my ideas, and my intensity. I have been cast about as a fragile, melodramatic snapdragon trampled on the sidewalk. Yeah, cool, I can do this fun trick with my mouth but — you didn’t even last to watch the end. 

The end will be my transformation. What I will become even I do not know. 
Did you know that I have managed to still be creating during this intermediate time? Even as I have had to blaze my feelings away, even to write this post. Catharsis comes in billowing clouds of Maine fog that blanket over the frigid saltwater of my Emotional Self. She warms me, the fog, thereby not only lessening the sharp pain in my extremities from how cold this inner hypothermia is but also to shield me from … being seen. I am trying to reach out, but everything is so black sometimes. At least when the clouds come in, there is a plushy sort of comfort, like a down pillow against your cheek. Did I tell you I finished my quilt? It is a masterpiece. 

I can’t believe I’ll never speak to you again, PM, but you can know that in my heart at this moment that is all I desire. Never to hurt. 
I want you to crash and burn a little bit. You are a lazy, manipulative, lying son of a bitch. I hope someone, somewhere inflicts as much pain on you as you have me. It won’t be me though, I have come to terms with the fact that you render me harmless. 

So carry on with your newest fling and may you never get emotionally attached to anyone ever and merely continue on this ambivalent sex accepting half assed life you lead, where you magnetically attract beautiful women and suffocate their independence with your impartiality to her worth. Why must we prove anything to you? You are worth nothing. 

I am worth more than nothing. I am worth something. A whole lot of something.

So fare ye well. May our future contact be brief, such that I may retain my pride and composure and you may suffer for all that you never appreciated before: My Emotional Vulnerability. 

Once Ago With Love,