I'm the space in between the two.

I had a moment:

I saw 32 likes on my facebook status -- small comparatively, but large for me. I had a brief internal conversation on the nature of my popularity, patting myself on the back for being so clever and likeable. Green gently reminded me of other small people, people who pursue fame, which is inevitably weak in comparison to the other fruits of existence. Ash, ever condescending, runs away with the sentiment, laughing at the pathetic Others who take pleasure in small victories -- luckily we know the difference, know what's worth boosting one's ego for.

Green reminds Ash of the nature of the"popularity" -- less than four dozen likes on a facebook post. Perhaps we are less high-minded than we thought, susceptible to the same pitfalls and ego-centrism.

Normally Green is the nice one.

cherries, what?

The nape of your neck smells like you

And sleep, and kisses, and draping arms

It's warm, and keeps my cold nose safe

I can hide my face and disappear...

It's my favorite place; I go there often

You're sleeping now, but I don't feel alone.

Nick tastes like lemon ice cream

I met you in a day turned night
I felt displaced, I brimmed with spite
You burned the oil of my pain
You turned me, made me more humane

So I'll write your name in the rocks
I'll feel the sunset in your locks
And sometimes when I fall asleep
I'll call you when my horror seeps.

I thought my time had come and sighed
Because my jaded heart had died
I'd heard the stories of I Am Whore
But you learned me beyond my thoughts before;

Please hold me while I whim away
I'm floating and it's hard to stay
but I wrote your name in the rocks
I've written now; now I can't stop.

not so sticky

I've been many shades of occupied:
I've had a man and made him cry
I've loved a boy and helped him grow
I've kissed a woman that I used to know.

I've been many times two together:
I've helped a small heart through bad weather
I've held inside an unwanted glow
I've trembled the heart of a once-thought foe.

But now, I stand here on my own:
I don't know how to be alone.
My walls echo from my empty soul
I can't fill with all the emotions I stole.

And so, ashamed, I stay inside
Trying to forget, trying to hide
Hoping aloneness bears epiphany;
But I forgot I was stuck here with me.

August 18th, 2012

Today it happened. I decided to end something that would've irrecoverably altered my future. Since then, I keep fading in and out of acceptance -- it's difficult to really believe that I was in surgery this morning. My mind will flash back to it, my mind will try to distract me from it.

How do I feel about it? Well, I feel relieved, shocked, slightly saddened, resolved. Although my decision was made in a desire to keep the status quot,  my life will be changing after this. No longer will I wander through the halls of existence waiting for good things to happen, lethargically accepting my life as it comes to me and apathetically whispering good things in the name of a cause. I have to make this sacrifice meaningful. I have to make something of myself that would have been impossible if I had been burdened with a child. I have to make myself into a person that can be at peace with this decision.

The actual experience was by far the worst part. I lay on an operating table, my closest friend sitting a few feet away; the doctor puts on his gloves and slides in the spectrum; from that moment on, excruciating pain. Torture that left me shaking uncontrollably. I couldn't speak -- I reached out my hand to my soul mate and she grabbed it, crying -- staring at the ceiling I willed myself to relax as I felt large needles tearing through my cervix, a suctioning device forcing it's way into my womb. However, throughout it all, the doctor's calm voice anchored me to the ground. "Now, I'm sure you're sad to hear this, but we're all through," he said, gently teasing as he removes the spectrum and wipes me off. A strange paradox: his tender attitude and warm hands, my paralyzing agony. I blanched with relief, trembling as I pulled on padded underwear, stumbled to the recovery room.

It was only then that I cried. She held me as hot tears trickled down my face. For whom was I crying? Myself, the unborn, the pain? Perhaps a combination of the three.

I know I made the right choice because I am penniless, irresponsible, a drunk, a smoker, a college student, a waitress, an idiot who didn't wear a condom in a foursome with strangers. I know that I know beautiful people because a giving soul paid for the procedure, a well-wisher I hold close to my heart risked domestic unrest to be a shoulder to lean on, a doctor old enough to be my grandfather cared about the reproductive freedom of women, and the best friend I've ever had held my hand.

This sacrifice was not made in vain. I understand the world now better than I had before. I've seen the ugly face of consequences and embraced the scariest thing I've ever known in my entire life. This will not be an event that passes by unnoticed. I will remember the pain, the questions, the trauma, the protesters, the truth of my life: I am strong and I will be the master of my body.

whoa

My ashes are great today. I let her take over the body, let her guide me through the process. She's the one who is so seductive, so alluding to beauty. I let her want him and take him. Now I'm sitting here...and I'm throbbing with being, and happiness, and completion. Ash takes when she wants, and sometimes it's a good thing.


It's strange sometimes- being stuck between two opposing people -- all three sharing one form ---but it's nice to take the back seat, to let the lovely one drive.

sometimes life changes and you're completely fucked

a liquid weight draws me down.

I carry it in my chest, close to the ground
I lunge in my misery, stare with desire
I dream dreams of winds, carrying me higher-
flight paths of angels circling a spire-
but my breath bubbles dirt,
my dark lover pervert;
my clarity, thread by thread, unwound

and still, a liquid weight draws me down.

I'm humping through sludge, trying to drown
all or nothing, that's who I've always been
gorging on slime black as my sin-
brief thoughts of a clean tide drawing me in-
and I choke on the earth,
my bleak afterbirth,
wearing my claws on my head like a crown

I feel it, a liquid weight draws me down.

Sometimes I pretend you're a wave bearing down
foam circles my thighs, kisses my palms
a caressing lover, a stroking calm-
the thought resonates like a sensuous psalm-
but I'm stuck in the mud,
bathing in blood,
filling my lungs with a gargling sound

a liquid weight draws me down.

you don't like the things I like

I recognized her eyes, even though I'd never seen her before, except maybe in my drawings. She wasn't remarkably pretty, but the way her expressions fluidly swept across her face was intoxicating. I stared, transfixed. Her words were flavorful, and she mulled them around in her mouth before wafting them casually through the air -- as if she didn't understand her power. She was the palatable mixture of plain and pretty, boring and fascinating. She was mild and yet very disturbing. She moved me because I hated her without knowing her and wanted to love her intimately.

Between us, an insomniac questioning sanity and a modest lovable blogger, sat a thousand unknowable miles and a computer screen. I whispered her name and knew she would never hear it.

Principles

As a self-proclaimed Godless drowning in a sea of religious morality, I get quizzed about the nature of principles more than your average person. I've discovered that it's a symptom of being an Atheist in the Bible belt. Sometimes the questions come from zealous strangers; sometimes, a caring family member speaking across a cup of coffee. The general implication is always the same: how can one have principles, and yet not have religion?

In the past, these questions would offend me, but eventually I begrudgingly admitted that the idea of one's religious code shaping one's moral values isn't completely unfounded. Many people have argued that the ten commandments exist because humans, as inherently evil beings, needed firm divine direction. From that perspective, I've cast myself adrift without any kind of moral anchor; how do I decide what is right and what is wrong?

It can be very difficult to build a respectable argument without a widely accepted foundation. Often, I present empathy as my champion. The mandates that I admire, whatever religion they may hail from, are rooted in empathy. Jesus said it best in Matthew 22:36-40: "...love your neighbor as yourself." Empathy is in reality a very complex and intricate principle, but at it's simplest, it demands a deep understanding by one person for another. It can touch us lightly - when one feels moved to help a disheveled person to their feet - but can also grip us with immovable certainty, such as the sudden realization that one person would die for another. Is it a judeo-christian sentiment? Perhaps. But it's not exclusive to Christianity, and I don't have to belong to a religion to value it's worth.

However, empathy alone doesn't fully explain my perspective. I also hold respect in high esteem. Whether or not I agree with someone on a spiritual, intellectual, or moral level, I feel that it is necessary to treat them with dignity. Respect, at it's core, is given not because the recipient deserves it, but because the giver respects themselves enough to show kindness and regard to everyone around them. As Sir John Herschel said, "Self-respect is the cornerstone of all virtue." Through respecting myself, I can love other people; through loving other people, I come to respect myself.

So, what is a principle for an Atheist? Where does one anchor oneself without religion? I choose to believe in humanity, in the innate empathy and respect that we, miraculously, find ourselves capable of. I look into the waters of religion and see my principles reflected there, not because I have any belief in a doctrine, but because the people making up the spiritual bodies have noble ethics of their own that I aspire to.

blowing away in the wind

Reach out to the world, you're wrapped in lavender cotton
Whisper a chord but take it back; you're fading,
Fading into the background of the life of the cosmos.
Tempting, isn't it, to just drift away forever
Riding the stars and their currents of hot wind
Blasting through a summer day, bouncing off asphalt
Warming your skin and kissing your neck,
A faint song's waking lullaby,you hum along, tasting...
Cherry? Again? Those were better times, and worse times,
Before you knew the world and learned it's name
When the warmth came from hearts and not from the elements,
When the sting of rejection was merely a glimpse of the forgotten.

But now you have a summers day, and a sense
Of being alive and alone in the universe
Illuminated and warm in the sun, nestled in light,
And around the corner is the shadow and a night's rest,
When darkness meets darkness and a sip isn't enough anymore.

i miss the ocean

It's easy to lose yourself over time because being a person is a fluid thing. Whenever I feel empty, I wonder if it's because I don't knit anymore; I don't write poetry anymore; I don't write stories anymore, drawing pictures of the characters to satisfy my earnestness; I don't tell people what to do anymore, or give advice anymore; I no longer write imaginary speeches; I've ceased to tie a cape around my shoulders and pray for dragon wings; I  don't idealize childhood like I used to but neither do I respect the state of being that supposedly comes after.

The question is this, then: am I empty because I am decaying, or am I empty because I'm finally about to be filled?

Because now I dream vividly of torture and desire; I write letters to dead people and save them in a book; I draw pictures of the creatures from my slumber, solidifying them in my earnestness; I ask strange questions and listen intently to the answers, unconcerned about my own opinion; I battle between hope and horror for the human race; I think longingly of cityscapes and mountaintops, the bird's eye view and the terrifying freedom; I no longer attempt to put my humanity in a box, floundering with labels and understandings, trying to know myself and realizing that to understand the smallest part of the smallest animal is to know the universe.