Relapse into Fantasy

The New Story is
I am not human
I never was
No desire to eat or bathe or
Love with a body yet some
Creature of the stars
Of soft mosses Pain is
In the skin in the
Mouth it hurts
To breathe. Light too bright
To dull to fight

Call my name by candlelight,
How can’t you see?

Don’t you see I am not human?
I tried to tell him
I tried
there is nothing more to do.

Delusion is a pastime I can
Admit I like to alter reality to a
Place of whimsy if the
Conclusion is my lack of
Humanness, then I acquire a pardon,
Possess an excuse for all the
Strangeness I feel and why
I don’t enjoy having skin around me

There is fear at myself.

Thoughts seem to flit about and attack each other
Sometimes play I observe
Chaos, welcome
Relapse to fantasy to Letting
Go and writing myself into mythology maybe
I can make something maybe
I can make sense this is
Not mania this is salvation this is
Inevitability in a little
Cottage in mountains I
Surround moss I am gathered by fallen twigs
Watched by foxes and magical girls
Follow me around and cry
Crystals at my feet there are
A million moonbeams in your eyes
There are a million reasons to not
Want to die I have always been attracted to a
Man with that twinkle in the eye
Look towards me out of the corners of your face yet
You’ve no idea what you see
What you see is not what you want me to be
I will never be who you need me to be.

I equally am and equally am not a
Misplaced creature in a foreign land am and am not
A cast away deity shaking sleep from stardust hair
This land is not my own I am not of here this
Language discordant in my ears this
Spins too fast this fragile pain
There is no burrow deep enough

Take me back to slow water
Take me back to wind chimes
Take me back to bones
Take me back to the beating of the
Heart of humanity to sex
To electricity where
I could never be touched enough when
I cried out romance into cuts in my skin contains
Feels alive with
Girls I love with
Danger, with
Salvation. Love is repentance
Love is guilt
Love is hurt

Being otherworldly creates me a goddess I
Desire to be admired
From afar
Tell the world pretty stories yet the face
On the other side of the veil is
Just deep lipstick you can
See through my skin, what is on the inside?
There must be a doctor
Somewhere that  can tell me what
I look like inside I tried
Oh god you can believe me I’ve tried

There is something yet within
She inhabits gilded halls
In a little globe in her palm
It is a secret
Inside I am a secret
It is nice that way
Emerge to pray and light incense
To be admired and back
Inside wherever the
World can be too much to
lounge amongst perfection to
Solitude in absolute Men walk from thousands of miles
Away blistered pilgrims in my holy name
Yet the story I really contain a young
Man who somehow
Knows he may not
Be human it does not matter at all
There is nothing we can do
He can see it behind my eyes he can see that
I am not ethereal at all at
2am
Binging on sweets
Greasy hair
Smeared makeup
Dissociated
I am not ethereal
In pain
Under you
At war with myself
To ask you or to not ask you
To stop or to fight
I am not ethereal at
2am
At my parent’s house
Snot on my chin
I am not ethereal changing a wet bloody pad
I am not a ghost I
Haunt old songs in my car
The only part of me that is close to human is the pain,
Possibly the pain
this could be human one day
Pain at blood red at gnawing stomachs
Pain at the throat at the vulva at
Claws in my eyes at
Coldness and pain when hit and
Passing out
I leave blind
I’d rather feel pain than be dead inside

He is pure violence he
Breaks through the lock he
Does not care at all he
Breaks right through my heart through
Ornaments of gold through
Winged cat eyes through
Fishnets he
Destroys my fiction
I thought I did create
My alien skin he
Is not fooled is
Not afraid of me
Oh how did I let this happen he
Tears down the veil he
Does not care at all
Oh I tried to let him know
I am not yet human
Yes I fucking tried to let him know yet
At my feet at the altar on top of
Blood he may die for my
Love does kill, the fleshy creature in me
Caught his eye
He tossed aside my storybook he
Tore apart the fairy tale
Set fire to woodland cottage
Melted down my crown
He cared enough to truly see
He fucking set me free
I fooled myself, why yes he did
And yet likewise, he fooled me.

I’d rather hold the pain than be dead inside
It fits nicely in a little globe Pretty
From outside but
I can make a cage luxurious
No one will take my pain I’ll
Spin stories I’ll seduce you Pain turns
You swooning when I paint it with gilded
Feathers when I sprinkle it with fairy dust when
I record it in a leather bound diary
This is all I have
This is all my own

You will never be able to read me
Even my expressions are in code
Even my kiss is a disguise

I have been asked the right questions before
The breadcrumbs have been followed
Fine,
I’ll admit that
Yet then I cannot maintain
Fresh coats of Lavender over the stain
I cannot protect the storybook
Cannot defend the Pain
This human skin
I tried to become an alien
I fought to become a Fae
I killed myself to become a Saint
For people to share stories
Around camp fires
A being of legend of mystery that
No one ever knew
Who lived in a beautiful cage
Who imprisoned herself in a caricature
Who was never quite sure who she even was
What she was.
Would rather live in stories

A beginning a middle and an end
Tied with a bow

My Ex told me he realizes he raped me. This is how we both experienced healing: A Hasty Essay.

A hasty essay. My Ex and I met up last night: he told me he realizes he raped me.  This is how we both experienced deep healing.

I’m still processing this. We dated for 4 years, I left him maybe 10 months ago and we are now back in touch and spending some casual time together as friends. I have no desire to date him and he knows. When we met in 2014, I was incredibly inexperienced. He rushed sex with me in ways that were uncomfortable. I’ve never been one for hook up culture or moving fast sexually.  It felt wrong- but I thought this was just how men are.  He tricked/ violated me into oral sex (on me,) and with vaginal intercourse.  To which he said, “wow, normally I don’t go so fast with women.” Thinking about this makes me sick to my stomach. I thought that was what I had to deal with, that all men were like that. 

Eventually I realized how messed up all of that was. I never told him about it because I would just be in his words “bringing up the past,” and “making him feel anxious” or “I didn’t sleep at all last night, was feeling suicidal, now work is going to be horrible,” which I took as him saying that I just.. shouldn’t say anything.  I felt in a constant limbo of speaking up to him and “making him panic/ bringing up the past/ ruining his day,” and not saying anything and then “being moody.” He was always on his phone when we were together, if we were apart, he would be playing pvp video games and not paying attention to our conversation and would get angry when I noticed he wasn’t listening. He found reasons to argue with many of my opinions, seemingly for little reason.  Our sex life was not great, I don’t want to go into more detail, it was not horrible but I experienced guilt and shame that still affect me.  To be clear, there were many great things about him and about our relationship.  It was by no means entirely bad and I would not describe him as “abusive.” I was difficult also.

We’ve been communicating; it’s been good.  He knows I have 0 desire to get back with him.  We’ve become close again in a way that is healthy and benefiting us both.  Last night we went out and he said he wanted to talk to me about something, I could tell he was worried. He told me that he “felt like he raped me,” and “feels like a monster,” and had “felt horrible about it and wanted to tell you for years.” He brought up the above. He is not looking for pity, I know that. I told him yes, it sucked and was horrible. I told him I would not consider what happened to be rape, but a violation. I told him the most important thing to me is that he and I have both grown as people. I told him what I have learned about masculinity (the good and bad.) I gave him tips for navigating consent moving forward and he was happy to have my insight.  I told him how men find themselves in a limbo also of asking for consent vs being perceived as a p***y in dating.  We are both the victims and the survivors of mixed messages from our society regarding sexuality. We are the victims and survivors of a traditional southern city, with Catholic values intermingled with millennial sexuality and a wild party culture and a love of Punk Rock.

Single and dating now, I find myself fearful of sexual intimacy with new men. I also find myself in awe at the variety of men I have the pleasure of spending time with and the kindness they show me.  They are all different.  They all have weird little quirks.  I didn’t realize how well I could be treated; I never knew that men could care like they do. Many men are gentle and kind, they desire to hear my fears and any discomfort they may cause me. They notice when I am afraid. They ask me if I am okay, if it’s okay to kiss me.  One man I was talking to would listen so intently to me on the phone without interruption that I thought the call had dropped. He was still there. He didn’t want to interrupt me. It almost brought me to tears how much I felt he cared.  Most men notice I am nervous with physical intimacy, they check in on me, they tell me they will slow down, they care.  Many men want to hear my opinions, and may disagree, but are open to what I have to say.  They smile and their eyes light up when I talk about things I am passionate about.  In the past I would have said “sorry,” but many men enjoy seeing me excited, they love my passion. They want to get to know me.  One man is a friend of mine, he expressed he wanted to put his arm around my shoulder and that he liked me.  I didn’t like him that way, but in that moment, I felt obligated to not say anything.  I told myself I could tell him the truth, I was afraid, but I politely declined.  I was afraid of his reaction, but he was fine, he. was. fine. He could tell I had trouble, and he talked to me about how it wasn’t a big deal.  He cares about me for more than my body. He cares for me as a friend also.  I felt loved and accepted.

My ex is trying to navigate the same dating pool in the #MeToo era, it’s important to him that he respects boundaries, he wants to learn, he wants to ask for consent. It’s not easy for men either, we all need to admit this and find solutions together. We need to stop shaming men, and allow space for them to speak of their regrets.  Without resolution there will be no change, no growth.  To be clear, no one is obligated to communicate with their abuser, please don’t take it that way.  No one owes shit to their abuser, please decide what is best for you.

I feel in shock today. But I feel vindicated. I feel like I’m not fucking crazy. I want to cry but I can’t. I want to hug someone, but I can’t. I’m proud of my ex, I’m proud of myself, I’m proud of our weird fucking planet and weird soft warm human beings that can have these bizarre conversations, where I can talk with my ex and he can apologize for violating my trust and we can both have a healing moment.

Thank you in advance, kind strangers.

Holy Violence, Sacred Sex

What if the flowers emerging in this moment were all that mattered, if I let them rise to the sun, to drink & play? I could let the little creatures fight, claw, and bite with sharpness & with Red, with Blood.
Medicated to push down the Rage. Laid to rest. Put me out to pasture.
Holy Spirit, old angry ghost, sit by my side, Red & Blood & Thickness

You are welcome here, Violence

Kick and slide, skidded elbows and knees, screaming and
Falling on rocks, on
Crystal, pieces of Amber trapped
Creatures, Celestial
Beings are only of the earth

We are all from the stars
There is nothing we can do

Flow, my anger.
Talk of murder as a child
Parents confide in death wishes
Mother confides in doctors that
I plan to kill and the truth is I did at 9 years old but
Now at 16 I only desire to kill
Myself

Surrounded by anger
Creating Rage on my body
Passive violence inside
Bloody violence out

I am real
I am I

Sexual aggression
I desire so fiercely as I did at 16 a means
To feel:
Beautiful
Wanted
Desired
Worth
And that is okay and welcome here

I can be a Yellow rose.
Smell this moment
Blood & Sex
I am a woman

2009 and triggered by the Perfect Babe, my first boyfriend’s old crush. Jealous of her sexual attention, of her white hot starvation. Drove far away and landed in the arms of a young man I knew. A rush of his merely…. platonic magnetic drive.

I won

Achieved that satisfaction
But triggered by what
I Know I Wanted
& turned away, yes, as I always do.
To remove the Sin. Extract pain. Feel real.

To Hunt

Kill the parts arisen.
Hold myself down if you don’t have the balls to hold me down while you fuck me. I know what I want.
Do you love me as you desire me? as you need me?

Hurt me
Ravage me
Command me to Come

In your name

I want to fall in love with you
I lust for you
Beg you to take me,
Just as I am

Sacred
Violence

Sex and Pain
The Animal
I am Violence and Pleasure
If you won’t choke me
If you’re not brave enough to leave bruises on my skin
I will get what I want from someone who will
Say my desires are real
Holy aggression
Lust for violence

To Be Hunted

Capture me
I won’t say no

And a tightness arises in my deep throat
As if I may cry
A tenderness
Hold and release
Slave and Master
A prophesy of your calloused hands around my throat

I know what I want

Hunt me
Stalk me
Green eyes
Illuminated by a candle in the night
Through sharp grasses
Unleash your wildness unto me

I cannot be tamed aside from your hands. If you are so strong, let me feel it. Show me I belong to you.
Your weight on me
To smother, to allow

Stop me, Punish me
Force pleasure upon me
Inside me
Underneath the parts that
Need to be beautiful
Bruises I can hide and
Look back on at work
& rush of blood to my cheeks
& wanting you again.
Right below the scars on my thighs
Won’t you leave a better memory?
Chosen
Show me I belong to you
Pain on
My body. Violent Spell work
Chanting, singing, dancing
Blood, bones, sex
All of this and more
I need

Blood of Sex of
My womanhood
Flushing cheeks
Bruises blood in hidden scars
To Feel is To Bleed
Pain & Pleasure

I can finally be quiet with your hands around my throat.
You give me no choice
As I have always
Wanted

May that which brought shame upon me become my greatest pleasure
In My Name I Pray

Girls, Bodies, & Magic

Soft, pink & warm thing,
Palm of my left hand you lie
Sleeping you dream of dancing maybe
One day crying.

He is nearby.
Never sure if
He is watching,
So continue performing.
Carry on your
Prancing.
Let him close when he approaches.
It’s okay to look away when
He can’t see.

Disgust & self-loathing,
Feed your daughter before
She knows better.
Before she knows
She’s stronger.
Feed her poison when she laughs
Too loud. Shine her windows when she
Scrapes her knee playing ball.

Put a needle in her palm.
Buy her a shiny fish to stare at.

Teach her to slit her
Tongue
& Lick
Bruises, to keep cumming,
Flipping pages, avoiding
Rages.

It won’t be long till she understands her opinion is only valuable for marketing.

She’ll teach herself how to starve, don’t worry about that.
She’s okay, really, she’s okay. It’s not a problem because she
Keeps
Saying
She’s Okay.

And mind your damn business.

He had visions of you taking over this world and he was terrified, you shook him to his core. He knew, he saw your fire, he saw you dancing in red skirts, heard you singing wild, he understood the threat of your joy, the sharpness of your mind, the power of your body, the magic in your words,

He saw you as a weapon

& He made you believe that for many many years.

As you were born he feared you were a witch yet
Here you are a Sorceress
You are yet a queen
Embody
Goddess recognize yourself in the mirror
Honor her in each of your sisters
Don’t stop gazing
You will see

———————
Photograph at top is by: Aries Photography, find her on Instagram @ariesphotographynola
Modeling is by me: Mag

The Sacred Rite

It wasn’t until the wedding, when they stood at the altar, face to face.  Thick Louisiana hum, twilight filtering silver overtaken by gold from little fires here and there and torches carried by our family and friends, but mostly strangers here to witness and bask in the energy of this sacred Beltane Rite. We are witches, two days ago we met, and tonight we are wed.

Stars emerge paired with fireflies. Shed pieces of animal, plant, seed, bone, mother, flaking and gathering oil and smoke, deep scents on the large altar behind us, we stand under a canopy of palm leaves, a flashback to ancient Egypt and I know without question his eyes never left mine. 

We were humanity, mortality, filtered to pure sexuality.  We were chosen divinely for this role of the God and the Goddess embodied. As the May Queen, I was chosen by picking the drink of mead with a turquoise inside, while as he, as the Oak King, won my hand by catching me in the Great Hunt and correctly answering my riddle.

We stood, having led our tribe to welcome the springtime, to worship the deer and the wolf, on this sacred land of Gryphon’s Nest.  They followed us across the expanse of the field, carrying sparklers, surrounded by the swamps, to a great altar and circle around which they watched eagerly.

Our family gathered around us, all of humanity and bleeding animal, breaking hearts of gods and goddesses, angels holding their breath so not to cry, so not to sing. 
And sing, we did.

As the High Priestess and Priest closed the circle around us, and called the Elements, coaxed the corners of the earth to lounge as sacred voyeurs to human love and lust. Now silence falls, but the buzz of the land under our bare feet and radiating into our bodies.  I feel the embrace of my friends, I feel the heat of the man across from me as he gazed into my eyes with overwhelming passion.  Waves threatening to crest over my head, to pull me into the deep.  I desire so much as to meet your gaze, but I am so afraid.

Your burrow into my soul, in the most literal sense. A refusal to look away.

You find nothing in me scary

I become aware of a face in the circle, in line of my sight is Vovin, and my fear is shaken away with a wink and shimmy from our Man of Honor.  This is the courage I needed to move fully into my body.  Growing taller, hot tea swamp water soaking up from my bare feet, bruised with ripeness.

Overcome with humming, she takes a dare, she glances up at him.  Through fear, shyly steps out a quiet knowing.  A deep but sweet confidence, pulling the curtain aside, step into the Goddess, she has been here waiting patiently the whole time.  I lounge into myself like a warm bath.  Held in the embrace of your terrifying eyes I jump into a roaring river, equal so to dipping bare feet into a crystal stream, freezing and laughing.  And I did not look away, I burned right back into you, not a choice but an accepting an invisible invitation to dance from your playful eyes.  Swelling and body cooling and heating, growing taller, skin illuminating.  A goddess in all of us I stood for the girls, for Melody my niece, stood for my mother, for grandmothers of color, for queer sisters and for the sluts and for the women in Hijabs.

You were all present
And he saw that
Saw me jump in
Let go of my footing
Risk everything
His eyes grew gentle into mine
Float above the Earth and
Take a look down and see
Shining stones and gray moths. We all
Desire the same thing:
We all want to be loved
for precisely who we are and
in that moment I knew
You saw me. And I
Knew you met my eyes, I
Watched as tears formed in
Softly folded corners
Warmest blue in pain in clinging
to pieces of drift wood
Grasping at pieces of iceberg.
Clawing for a drip of water in
the desert I saw you also.
I jumped into the screaming
Truth and you were my soft landing
My gentle tether to earth
My safety
And I was yours too.

In your eyes a boy, a man, a warrior and a priest.  You’ve lived hundreds of lives, you’ve taken thousands more and the blood of old men’s rage pools in the lines of your palms, the same hands you hold your lover with. Those hands you hold back tears with, now you feel safe to lie them down and cry.  I witnessed in you each lifetime of all of humanity, I witnessed your subtle pain and shame, disguised and renamed, but now allowed to feel as he feels. I witnessed your craving, a violent movement towards healing.  Countless screaming births, and endless peaceful deaths. 

Love, in that moment you placed it all at our feet.  You surrendered your desire to be a martyr, left it with the God you embody on this holy night.  You released your white-knuckle grip on your sword, and we watched it fall silently to the floor. Years and painful years, heartache and movement and a running on and on, mountain to sea to valley, to the suffocating dust of Mars.  Your home is here and now.  You, now, accept your weight, your physical presence under the moon here with me.  With your family. 

Please tell me you are real

My love, in that moment we knew.  Rushing together, divinely paired. You took my hands and in front of every living being on earth, with every spirit past and present, with the ancestors looking on with bated breath with each speck of dust and moons and earthworm’s soil.

I declared my love to you in our wedding vows
I spoke for all the women
Felt for us all
And when you spoke back, your voice shook,
You spoke as poetry
As you declared yourself bound to me

And nothing you said could be doubted as anything but the immortal truth

The High Priestess and Priest placed veils upon our heads and great headpieces of antler on you and flowers, moss, and insects upon me and we allowed ourselves to be guided to the ground, red and pink and white flowers arranged in a perfect pentagram, our wedding bed.  I watched, through the eyes of divinity, as you laid down for me.  As I placed myself upon you, legs over your body, weight on your lap, my hands gently steadied on your chest. 

Sacred Rite: a Marriage, a Vow, Sex between Heaven and Hell.  Creation of Pleasure, Celebration of Mortality, burning inside lust a sexual desire and all began to dance, all began to chant and with Mugwort wafting over us, we held out thin hands to welcome  a Chalice for me and an Athame for him and slowly, gently, agonizingly, you placed yourself into me. 

Crowd shouting, creatures weeping, the Rite is complete. We are guided to our feet, my Chalice is filled with mead and your Athame dipped in honey and each person passes by to sip and kiss and receive blessing, maybe a message as well.  As they pass, and make their way back to earth, to the pool, the wild after party, we collapse together beside a small fire, as the ritual area is tidied. We did not speak at all, in the afterglow of deep ritual of possession of our bodies by celestial beings.  You looked off into the distance, at nothing in particular, creating space to return.  I snuggled between your angled knees, and there we held each other, and the Earth continued to turn as Spring quickened and romance blossomed and the insects resumed their day.  Dark now, the agonizing angles of your face flitting about by light of the fire, lean muscles in your arms made sharp by shadow.  We gazed and gazed in silence, basking in the glory of Beltane, of the God and Goddess’s lingering presence, of our scents and each other’s primal sexuality, basked in Mead and Honey we were blessed, but more so, we blessed each other, but most of all, we allowed ourselves to receive. 

Two simple, holy, breathing creatures. Holding on, letting go. Return to our bodies, allow the deities to go back home. From that moment, we knew as our hearts beat with the turn of the Earth, we would never be the same again, and we would be bound in some way for all of eternity.

Please tell me this was real