#lonelycarp

I am

Finding myself

Thinking about windows again

And screens again

And mirrors

Again

-

I am

Being myself

Being the window again

Membranous metaphor

Hot molten earth

Turned

transparency

I’m remembering again

Am I?

-

I am

Finding myself

Thinking again

Carrying water

and chopping down trees

Mycelium seeping

Whispering secrets

Of endings

through cracks

To begin

again

-

I am

But

We are

And never were to be

again

I am finding myself

or else

I am not I

Casting net curtains

to catch my own role

A closed window

To an opening

Soul

-

I am

Yet

to find myself

Outside

Crouched naked

under moonlight

Upright

and ululating

Downright

howling uglinesses at the night again

-

I am

Yet

I am not

What you

Find yourself

thinking

-

I am

-

That I

am

That I

were

a Man

I would have often held his heart

In the darkness of the marketplace

-

The freshest meat

Still reeks of flesh

butcher clutching

expectantly

Claw dripping in gristle,

thudding chunks of bone to lug

and creaking weighing scales again

-

And

Through the soft

Often held

breath

of a window

-

I find myself

-

Being

again.

last night was the best night of my life (so far). I met Amanda Palmer, my all time hero, at the ninja gig here in Edinburgh. She called me beautiful. We kissed. She told me she loved me. She said I was incredible just for BEING. I told her my story and how her music has made me who I am. She brought me on STAGE at the ninja gig to help tell a story about an empath. SHE LITERALLY TOLD ME I WAS THE HIGHLIGHT OF HER EVENING?! I cried while she held me. My life is complete. THANK YOU UNIVERSE. 

"but some will make you laugh  and some will make you come  and some will make you fucking cry  and some will look at you  some will really look at you  and you’ll wonder why  you ever wanted to die  if this is life" - Cal Donnely

tempestuous oscillation between the wonder of what it means to be absolutely pure and  seeing clearly for the very first time and knowing that eyes are for more than lachrymal secretions of  love  and hurt and haunting.

on the scrabble board of life  we all pick our own tiles we all pick our own competition and we make it our goal to survive and we all build our own worth. (why do you doubt yours?)

written on stuck together cigarette papers

Tucked up

In your bed with crumpled sheets

Of white and red

You anti-phallus

You subtract life like it's a simple sum

I can't get your stink off me

I want you in me and I want you

Out. I feel the rosebush of cells, blooming

Blister, blood-red ink blot

I used to breathe in beautiful maple leaves

But now, dead branches of deciduous trees

Quaint antique fingernails

They claw in vain

At the years they want back

Too short to scratch

There must have been thousands

Just like you, 

Each a label

A toe tag on the corpse

Of a memory

Of when I

Fucked up.