Showing posts with label Relationships. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Relationships. Show all posts

Thursday, June 16, 2016

Never Surrender

Never settle or is it rather never surrender. Life as it stands seems to toil away at the much ballyhooed art of the beatdown. It is a grinding churning crushing system of pure attrition. The presence of life means the absence of death however the toil of life is the pathway to the unavoidable outcome. All decisions in life function around survival and what is needed to enable the most successful method of survival possible. And while quality of life is a compelling attribute we are honed by challenge.  The true forge of human levity, quality and quantity is strife, trial and battle. The convention of battle has been perverted. We hardly know what it is anymore other than a terse conversation with a coworker. The most intense and effective battles happen within and not without. On a grander scale they happen with those who have false impressions and opinions of us. The ones we are closest too that know us in ways we don't know ourselves. If you know someone who has never had even a mild criticism of you don't trust them. They haven't bothered to see you. And we need to be seen to benefit from battle and strife.

 The words benefit from battle may sound foreign but if people really think about it very little of consequence has ever come from surrender or settling.  All that occurs is that an easier more palpable outcome transpired.  Meaning you most likely did not get what you came for but you got what you needed. Fighting for the sake of also has its benefits. Like sparring in arguments with others over perspectives and viewpoints. But upon occasion everyone has to meet a moment when everything is on the line. Never deny that at the core of human engagement and action curiosity and conflict remain our more prolific motivators. When circumstances threaten what one has termed their life the obvious answer is to fight for it.

We are animals and in this idea we crave some of the same things all animals crave. But mostly we crave the competition of life.  The battle of supremacy. Peace while a respectable concept gains very little favor at the table of human avarice and society hierarchy.  We scrape for resources sometimes as shows of power and force.  An animalistic concept that binds us to our own brutality no matter how much we may despise it.  And always there is this sense of something more when that code is accepted. But from the second I became aware of myself as a human being and as an animal I knew that fighting was part of the primary function of existing. I felt the burn of it pushing against the back of my throat.  I felt an untapped resource in my belly ready to turn on if battle was presented. Felt what the emotions of anger rage and hurt could produce. I felt the power of them scorch my heart and pump it to flame.

I often write about battle in my books because there is no battle that has higher stakes than those involving love. Make no mistake my characters are in a duel that they plan on making a lifelong occurrence. There are those that argue that sex and not love is what is needed.  If love was not a needed resource we would not fight about over it and with it. We fight for sex but the true condition that sex mimics is love. Humanity is rife with tales of love. Love of others, places, things even love of self.  All stories carry the component of love in some respect because only love has the power to make a battle just and righteous. When fighting for love what else is viewed so well?

There is a reason the saying is all is fair in love and war.  It details the underlying current of love and human relationships.  We found them in battle not always through community. It’s why it will always be known as the battle of the sexes.  The inherent idea that the very opposition between the natures of men and women is the core value that makes the attachment beneficial.  They say it takes a strong person to make a relationship work and last.  I agree and every girlfriend or boyfriend does their part to help build your arsenal. If you don't see a relationship as a fight or seek to avoid fights then the end result will be the same matching the effort you have put in. Nothing ventured nothing gained.

The battle has to be engaged daily as point of action and as a point of acceptance of the very natures we are victim to. What we search for is not the perfect partner but the perfect adversary.  The one that makes us face what we are even when it’s unpopular.  The one who has only challenge in their heart and in their spirits.  The one who will tirelessly meet you on the field of battle again and again knowing that there is not any other place they would rather be. The love of your life should fight with you, against you, because of you but always at your side. And they should under no circumstances settle for less of you or ever surrender you.

Wednesday, May 4, 2016


I sometimes wonder about you
Something in the way you stare
When I get ‘I love you’ out of mid air
Am I truly that lucky, more love than I can bare

I wonder about your mask, the face you hide
Why is there apart of you that you hold inside
I then want to know all there is to know
To be told the many places forbidden for me to go

Will someone else be granted into this space
Someone else be given access to this place
I would like to go there and be with you
I don’t fear ugly I suspect what is untrue

This man I love is he real or fantasy
A figment of a perfect man as I would have him be
Myths are lies too fantastic to touch
I want life with warts, flaws and such

I know for me you are the man you desire to be
But what is the point in living a lie to satisfy fantasy
In this perfect little world where our love rules
There is no room for mistakes and misguided fools

In others you rest your passion
Your lyrical voice with fanatical fashion
If only those thoughts lied with me
If only I could be the fantasy and reality

I suppose I will settle for being your wife
Never truly knowing the drive of your hidden life
Where you see sickness I see the recipe of my true love
Where you see separation I see stife unheard of

As I lay myself bare to you
I wonder will you ever follow through
As I tell my worst fears
You lie to stop the tears

All along I thought this was about quality not quantity
All along I believed I held enough variety
I suppose the biggest crime of all remains to face me
That you require more than me to fulfill your fantasy

Thursday, April 28, 2016


Clair was admiring her shoes in the mirror when she heard the loud insistent knocking on the door.  She jumped and then started over to it.  His knock wasn’t quite a cop-knocking because it wasn’t the pounding normally associated with cops, but it was only a few notches down from that.  Clair opened the door and there stood one of the most attractive men she had ever seen.  He certainly hadn’t looked this dapper when they had first met. 
Sergei stood on the other side of the door with a single rose held against his chest, which was covered in a dark blue linen shirt that made his ice blue eyes really pop.  The slacks were also a linen it seemed and in the same shade.  His hair, which he wore just a touch long, was combed over and parted on the side.  It was such a nerd thing to do and it was one of the cutest things Clair had ever seen.  He stood ramrod straight, almost military straight as he let his eyes roam over her.  Clean shaven, his angular jaw line and ridiculous cheekbones were put on display framing his full lips as he softly smiled at her, finally meeting her eyes.
“Good evening Clair.” He drawled smoothly.
For a split second as she stared into his eyes as he smiled down at her, his deep voice caressing her, Clair did something she had never done before.  She went completely blank, no thought would cross her mind as she stared into his eyes.  She felt her mouth open but no words came out.  And that was when panic had started to set in.  Blinking rapidly she stood in the door facing him as her jaw flapped without voicing anything at all. 
Sergei arched a brow at her seemingly enjoying her display.  Mercifully he asked, “Can I come in?”
The question registered and Clair solemnly nodded and stepped aside so he could do just that. As he passed her, the frozen ‘deer in headlights’ feeling she had started to fade.  What in the hell was that, she frantically asked herself.  I acted like a deaf mute for a second there, he’s not that hot!! She could feel the last thought actually being yelled in her mind.  With a deep breath and a concert smile she turned to the large man that was standing in her living room.
“Sorry about that.” She said briefly.

He shrugged casually. “About what, it’s a compliment to render a woman dumb, deaf and blind for a second.” He paused and thought about it some. “Or it’s very sad.” He frowned as he thought about the other end of that.

Other Posts on this book:

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Saturday, May 9, 2015

Not Another Bodice Ripper - The Case for Serious Romance Part Two


Love is a personal endeavor no matter how universal television commercials would like it to seem. The nature of it is idealized for some, and wide open for others. The truth is when writing about something as profoundly intimate as love, it is really bad form to try and relate love in another voice or fashion other than your own. The truth and charm to a story comes from that bit of truth that is included. That bit of truth is the relatable aspect of any story. This is the core of your own voice as a writer. Regardless of how many people 'understand' your character's plight or not, the truth of the situation will ring forth and give the story just the push it needs to really fly.

With that in mind it is very bad form for generalists to assume that a certain plotline or story premise is in line with any pre-described social agenda. The liberation of women was just that, liberation. Liberation is the right to make choices. A woman can decide if she would like to be a public figure or a private one. A woman can choose to vote, bare children, and get married or not. The claim that the creation of or reading of romance somehow 'tricks' women into believing in self destructive rhetoric is almost more offensive than any other misogynic claim as it actually feeds into the myth that women are incapable of processing thought beyond what they know to be a fictitious account.

In laymen's terms, the claim in essence says that a grown woman is not capable of separating fantasy from reality. This is a claim usually attached to mental illness, and honestly makes light of conditions suffered by those who have legitimate hormonal imbalances, injuries or birth defects that are associated with mental illness. Reading romance is not an illness. Also it no more detracts from feminist prose as it would add to it. With that being said, no romance is the same. Like all forms of entertainment and media there are levels of content. No two books actually read the same.

The romance formula is very easy to follow. Usually two people, and in recent entries sometimes more, have a great potential for a romantic relationship. They must confront each other and often times the results are not initially positive. That is because of individuality. This is an aspect of romance that is explored more than it is in some of its traditional fiction contemporaries. You have the dichotomy of a relationship as opposed to the relationship being a side car to the dichotomy of the story. In the end the essence of the story is to confront relationship boundaries and expose them. This is a very emotional plane of existence that can sometimes hold the same trauma as a tragedy. And it should. Love is a life changing event. Seeking to experience it, and be bound to another person for all time is also a life changing event. As far as I know not a single life changing event has ever gone quietly and without lessons in humility and shame. These are human emotions that bear the weight in most situations. Yet in love they are the core of what this entanglement is about.

The way a writer creates this is wide open. This sense of growing affection and intimacy is developed from one thing and one thing only, seeing the person for who they are and loving them because or despite it. This is a truth that romance novelists understand that is rarely examined in most contemporary literature where relationships seem to be of convenience and not of necessity. Others are forced attachments where the characters are bound by seemingly invisible tendrils of emotion that are strong enough to bond yet not strong enough to carry the story.

To some degree the emergence of more acceptable contemporary popular fiction, and the need to be perceived a certain way by others has taken the blush from the rose as far as sweeping love relationships are concerned. Romance novels have long been the butt of literary jokes and recently in a twisted parody of art imitating life some have even endeavored to live up to this reputation of being incomprehensible smut with bad punctuation and grammar. But what are the far reaching consequences to this? This seeming end to fairytale as it were that now blocks the heart from even seeking some idealized contentment. Is it this lack of 'romance' being taken seriously in day to day life that has enabled a lack of respect for sex, marriage, and all romantic relationships? Has the 'replaceable' mate taken the place of the 'irreplaceable' mate?

Today more than ever in a world of revolving doorlike changes we need the purity of actual romance.

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

The Stages of Woman

Our mothers they teach us to be who they are and as penance we lose our first love

Our friends beseech us to act as they desire and for this we lose our next love

Our loneliness forces us to discover that we can only be what we are and within find our last love

As we stop craving the love of those that crave only our pain.  As we stop seeking that for which only wants to give us our fondest desire of being destroyed. Fascination with being put out of our misery begins to fade.

As we finally look within for what cannot be found without. As we finally look within to the cradle of the truest deception.  The whispers are clear and ever growing louder as we face what all have tried to hide.

Who said that I was flawed, who claimed that I was without.

So hard to believe that they didn't deserve you, much easier to believe that you are the problem.

You only get back what you put out.

Have I, all this time been the maker of my own pain.  Have I, just now begun to realize that I am worth so much more than they say. worth so much more than I say.

so much more than they say, so much more than I say, more than they say, more than I say, than they say, than I say, they say, I say

I say,  I am a woman, I say I am worth so much more than you will ever know, I say that I hold all of who I am, while you hold none. I am strong enough to yield and fierce enough to give, I am hardy so I will stand and I am confident so I will rise to any challenge.

I am. . . .power. .  I am. . . .joy . . . . .peace. . . . . I am. . weakness  I am. . .undeniable . . boundless . .  I am force. . truth. .  submission . . .decadence. .  I am . . .malleable . . .distraction. . I am  absolution . . mystery. . . .I am. . . .temptation . . . . .rejuvenation . . .exaltation . .  I . . .loyalty . . . .am. . . .reckless. . . .imperfect. . . .I . . . . love . . . . human . . . am. . destruction  . . .rebirth .  . .life. . . .
I     am    flawed.

Perilous Flight from Barnes & Noble
Perilous Flight from Amazon

Tuesday, January 20, 2015

Blog in Review Best of 2014 #2 9 Days - A Novella of Mythic Proportions

When I first started writing I knew I would delve into mythos because I find our myths and fairytales so fascinating.  They still have so much to offer on the nuances of human nature. One of the stories that has always fascinated me as many others is the tale of how Hades took himself a wife.. . literally.

 I'm a dark girl, literally and figuratively.  I'm always trying to dissect the so called bad guy, because I believe in there is the true answer to all of humanities ills. The first time I confronted the idea of reinventing this tale I thought to modernize it. That is woefully without though because of my misguided motivation. I was one of the believers of the hype.  I had painted Hades a villain that had the good fortune of his captive actually coming to love him. A little you know first edition Stockholm syndrome. I wanted to modernize it and have the human embodiments of the God and Goddess meet and he do it all proper like this time as they repent for their sins from the past. I felt Persephone deserved a proper courtship.

It took me a while of thinking in this way to understanding the math of all this just didn't add up the first time. Think about it. We aren't talking about a mortal woman.  As we all know mortal women got screwed coming and going in Greek mythology. If anyone deserves a happy ending tale its mostly someone like Cassandra. Persephone technically got hers. Yeah it had a rocky start but what if there are things that weren't told.  The desires of a woman not being adhered to by an overprotective mother seeing forever only a child. We're talking about a goddess, the daughter of Zeus and Demeter. Had she truly wanted to leave wouldn't it have been simpler?

I let the story simmer in the back of my head for months not sure how to do the story justice because there is no story.  Truly as many accounts place it, the story of what happens to Persephone is virtually unknown. What we are often told is the trials of Demeter and the suffering the world endured at the taking of Persephone.

As the story goes after the initial abduction of Persephone, Demeter roamed for 9 days looking for her child. On the 10th she was told by Hecate that she had been taken by Hades. Helios revealed that it was not an unsanctioned taking.  That her father Zeus had in fact given Persephone over to marriage to the dark lord of the underworld. The resulting tale speaks of a year of suffering as Demeter protested the absence of her child stricken to the Underworld.

While it would be customary to assume that it was the time spent with her husband in that year that made Persephone loose lipped when her mother's will was being considered, I would rather tell another story.

I would like to tell one that paints the Lord of the Underworld a little less dastardly.  Mostly because when compared to some of his siblings he actually kinda was less dastardly. He requested the marriage.  Zeus knowing Demeter was going to have a cow (its Demeter so that isn't just allegory [rimshot]) gave him one of his tried and true methods of girl getting. Just take her.

I realized that I would like to tell one where the Lord of the Underworld knew that he would have 9 days to woo his new bride for that was when it was agreed to that her whereabouts would be revealed to her mother. As they all knew Demeter would attempt to bring hell on earth with her to gain her beloved child back.

No matter how much lore you read the story remains the same.  The taking of Persephone is usually listed as a raping.  However there seemed to be no witnesses to an acutal rape, just of an abduction and her screams as she is being carted away on a golden chariot. I mean considering the time period, rape was just the assumed discourse because that's how gods rolled.

But the very interesting thing is that underworld activities were shrouded. There have never been many tales of who Hades actually is. Yet the method of how he acquired his wife and subsequent equal queen of the Underworld is one of the most prolific stories surrounding what I believe is the often very misunderstood lord of needful things such as death and the dead.

Thus 9 days.

Think of 9 days as the mythological version of 9 and a half weeks. A sheltered lovely child, a lord of darkness and the unveiling of who they both truly are.

I want this to feel like a tornado. A swift sweeping love story where no one was trying to fall in love, just trying to assert themselves in a difficult situation.  Which if we're honest, we love those best that make it necessary to do that.

Soon I will start this from day one.  I will write the first chapter titled 'The Abduction'. From there each day for the next 9 I will write another chapter and tell what happened on this day until all 9 days have past and we have a good sense that Seph (as I like to call her) ain't going anywhere.

I hope you'll choose to come with me ; )

Always w/love,


Wednesday, January 14, 2015

Blog in Review Best of 2014 #4 Unconditional Love, or What We Really Mean

"Wow look its a unicorn, how cool is that?"

I mean come on
This statement is the peak of a very important conversation I was having with my bestie last night about love. At the onset of the New Year I made a promise to myself in regards to my emotions and how I express them.  For as long as I can remember I've tried to make myself as unemotional as possible.  I saw it as weakness as a lack of discipline and self-control.  I thought it was base and beneath me. I dislike scenes and emotional outbursts but more than anything I disliked them on me. It was very simple. My emotions give people power over me. I will rob them of that power.

It’s a very authoritative idea of a ruling mind.  I believe astrologically it is a very masculine Pluto or Mars disposition. In women it is likened to the Eris, Lilith position which is of the Queen of the Underworld Persephone herself.  Robbed of her innocence a new embodiment is given. Let's just say the story has always felt. .  familiar.

Hades and Seph
I always told myself that my emotional disengagement was just a sign of advanced maturity. A hallmark of class and grace under pressure. Which it can be seen as. I believe those who have had to deal with me when I am in an emotional clinch call it something else. . . cold, icy, quite a bit frosty. And it is.  The statements are calm, and poetically polite. My face dead cold giving not an ounce of emotion and my manner dismissive.

It is the defense of a child robbed of innocence of being as emotional as she can be. It is the foolish attempt of one who feels deeply at mastering what can be an all-consuming opus. My emotions always felt like a cliff overlooking raging rapids that plunge into a waterfall that ends somewhere at the center of the earth.  The levels of emotional lost I could and still can experience are extreme.  So I've always practiced at being practical in regards to them because practicality is the last of their concerns.

In many ways my emotions are always battling my intellect, which is the heavy Mercurial influence in me. However being a highly instinctual person I realized that denying emotions was the first step in taking away my natural gifts. So balance had to be attained. Which meant I had to explore my extremes on both ends.  I'm just glad I survived it. It was a near thing.

So back to my new year's resolution. I told myself I was no longer going to stifle how I feel about anyone.  I in fact practiced this by sending very personal very gushing messages of love to my closest pals who in some way inspire me by doing nothing more than being who they are. The results were as I expected.  I got back some gushing replies and silence.  I knew who would do what. The gushers are just what they say they are.  The none gushers, the silent, were whelmed. You see all of these people feel as deeply as I do and I know what such a message would've done to me. I would've gushed back but first I would've needed to be silent.  And sometimes when you're silent you just are because "Wow look its a unicorn, how cool is that." Bask in the moment.

Me and my bestie in film
As my bestie and sister from another mister put it, all her life she had thought that family should respond and behave as I have with her and yet due to never really seeing it our having it, my acceptance of her became like walking into your living room and seeing a unicorn. In the message I sent was what it was always supposed to be but never quite was, forcing the person to truly believe deep in their soul that it cannot exist. And then holy smokes there it is.  It was a very pertinent explanation that stuck a chord with me and made an odd kind of sense. It led me to a thought process that became spoken that symbolizes most relationship troubles in this world.  If you walked into a room and saw a unicorn what would you really do?

The response tells us a lot about how we as individuals process love. But not just any love, Unconditional love; this facet of human emotion few of us experience and none of us feel worthy of. The truth is of course you don't deserve it, but look it’s a unicorn.  Its beautiful, wondrous, miraculous and most of all a gift. Would you shoo it away for its own good or would you keep and cherish it for as long as it would let itself be yours.  Most of us say we of course would choose the second option.  However the truth is many of us actually choose the first.

What they are made of
Let me explain. Relationship patterns are an interesting process because usually the person committing the pattern cannot see it.  In someone else eyes its so clear.  Oh you date the same fundamental type of person and are always surprised at the results? The person watching shakes their head and considers this a lost case and cause.  And it is but not for the reasons you may think.  Those people aren’t stupid; none of us are really stupid.  We love patterns. In general we choose what we know, what we want and what we expect. Dating the same type of person guarantees that every relationship ends the same way.  There is comfort in knowing where you'll be before you get there. And we humans are nothing if we aren't addicted to comfort.  Even if that comfort is pain.  The need is sometimes nothing more than to fulfill the pattern.

This is also a very sad declaration on the nature of love and how it seems to be increasingly viewed as a burden that takes away instead of as a gift that gives. Most of us choose to chase away the unicorn not for its sake but for our own. The specter of unconditional love is such a miracle blessing that many of us instinctively choose to avoid it due to a higher self-preserving fear of loss and potential rejection in regards to attaining our dreams. The irony is that I think most of us do believe in some part of ourselves that we really can’t have it all.   Living your career dreams leads to sacrificing your relationship ones.

Often I explain that I don't do something or haven't done something because I've had peak experiences of it and now can't be bothered by less.  The real reason could be that I honestly don't want to find anything that would make those past experiences less beautiful. I want them preserved as the peak to make the pain I experienced worth the effort in the long run. And I use them as a road map to attaining something similar thinking that this time it might work. It is an odd sense of displaced loyalty to a younger me that had the illusions of a child looking for pixie dust in every kiss while telling herself there is no such thing as pixie dust. When faced with pixie dust you will deny deny deny until you have no choice but to see that the weird horned horse is really a unicorn.  But if I were honest it didn’t look like a unicorn then, but somehow it looks like one now.  We either traumatize or romanticize our pasts.  Its human nature.  The bad relationship was really bad; the one that got away was so wonderful.  But it is the lackluster present that enables a dramatic past because if we’re honest the lackluster present is actually a lot more like the dramatic past than we like to admit.  The implication being we are still making the same mistakes and learning nothing from them.

Oh naughty black unicorn
It is the same for a person who continues to date those who can never really love them the way they need to be loved. But this is a different level of affliction I think. Addiction to love is a terrifying thing. It is a declaration that someone else has a level of control over your well-being that could potentially end your desire to exist without them. It is a lure and a trap that many find no solace or comfort in the idea of attaining.  They instead choose to forge temporary unions with tried and true results of interest, excitement and inevitable endings.  They tell themselves it will end differently this time.  Deep down inside however they realize that it’s too similar to previous relationships which are why they are preferred. At the core of this is the desire to win the heart of the one that started the mess to begin with. In every new person that holds the attraction the way the one before did, they try again expecting different outcomes.

The result is a declaration about self-worth and what you consider sacrifice to be.  Love is within itself a paradox, a selfless selfish thing. It gives and takes, it births it kills. It is all and none. The true fabric that holds this thing together because it can be everything and nothing at all. It fills in the empty spaces.  There are many people who lack the proper perception of their self-worth, mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. It is a fundamentally human flaw and sometimes it takes viewing yourself from the eyes of others to temper it. But self-worth is a highly misunderstood concept.  It is a process of finding all parts of yourself worthy of care and love. It is why religion is so popular. Most religions are based on an idea that the human spirit that embodies a human body is worth unconditional love just by dent of being a creation of an all knowing all seeing all wise and powerful God.  It establishes the ultimate authority on loving yourself. But this is not really a love that can provide a true understanding of self worth.  For some religiously minded people they have done the work, the soul searching and the forgiveness. Some are just going with it.  But a true dialogue that defines self worth starts with self.  Its starts with looking at yourself under a harsh lens and being very critical. This is why people usually find self-worth through either successful or failed love. The successful lover loves your flaws to the point that you realize they aren’t that bad.  A failed love affair forces you to take those flaws to heart and may make you aware of them.  In the last is where self-worth is mostly lost, as some people don't hold the glass up to see what is worthy in them, just why they no longer have a lover.

Me and my bestie in our heads
In the core of that thought is sacrifice. The trick to the thing like all else lies in sacrifice. In order for my bestie to find that unicorn she had to sacrifice, thoughts of family, thoughts of herself, everything.  For people like me, my privacy, my truth must not be held in, it must be made public.  My hard fought for emotional self-control must be ripped to shreds at my feet. 

My favorite song about love is by Mumford & Sons. Its called White Blank Page.  Within this song is the pathway to the light. In this song is the greatest sacrifice.  As the singer finally understands a fundamental divinely uncontestable truth about love that the heartbroken hardly ever ask themselves. The thought centers around the idea, that you can be better, you can do something different and love will be the result. You can read articles about your attitude, consider new style trends.  All the things you can do to make yourself more lovable will not change one simple thing. Who you decide to love. In the end you might just need to date someone you would never date and consider a perspective you’ve never considered.  Sacrifice all of your thoughts about your fault in something and accept a truth about your inherit worth.  Accept that the person was never able to see it and no . . . that was not your fault.

I’ll leave you with the song. .

Monday, January 12, 2015

Blog in Review Best of 2014 #5 Inseparable

She could feel him all the time now.  She would catch a certain scent in the air and anxiety would rise in her belly. The whisper of a voice in the back of her mind. She closed her eyes, because she could almost feel breath tickle her ear. She inhaled deeply knowing this was the only way to manage it when they were connected like this. She opened her right hand in front of her staring at the lines and veins.  Warmth glided across the surface ever so lightly.  A fleeting thing feeling as it touched, touching as she felt. The sensation went up her arm, soaked her shoulder, then spread like wine staining carpet over her chest. She sighed in the feeling as her body was slowly being eaten away by his essence his aura. It warmed more in random spots like tiny starburst across her skin.  Tiny eruptions of warm sensations exploded softly all over. He called it sprinkle kisses.

The connection had always been there and visceral. It was like a train station that no one used. The tracks had been laid long ago.  When they first met it was pain.  It had dropped her to her knees the first time it poured through her. She had felt the sharp instant cut, the initial numbness and then she had nearly in slow motion dropped to her knees as the numbness faded for a dull aching that had no source yet could not be appeased. She had gasped loudly as if she had been hit in the stomach.  The sound of the gasp nearly lost in the sudden and hard release of air. She covered her heart with both hands as tears built in her eyes.  She stared dumbfounded to the heavens as they streaked brilliant salty trails down her cheeks. She vaguely felt them streaming down her neck to her chest.  Her skin dried some, her sweater caught the rest. She had stayed there for an eternity it seemed.  Nailed to her living room floor in pain, she had fallen to her back, eyes wide, tears streaming, mouth agape. The pain was acute, sustained.  Her first thought was his name and the pain doubled. This was a soul deep hurt that had survived and fed itself with his passions, ate his shattered dreams and drank of his broken heart. It fueled his nightmares, ignited his pessimism, and nurtured the hearth of his rage.

As she lay there unable to move, barely able to stand the pulsing burning fire that was both pain and rage she understood what true intimacy was.  It wasn't sexual at all, it was emotional.  It was living with someone else's pain inside you.  Bound to you in the core of your own soul. No closer mating could ever be attained. She wept as his despair raced through her.  Somehow she had always thought hopelessness was a passive emotion.  How utterly unrelentingly foolishly wrong she had been.  She saw now that hopelessness was a tidal wave. A raging ocean always building to overtake you. He was at war with it constantly. She was not fit for the fight.  For a moment she surrendered to it.  She let her mind drift into the darkness that only soul shattering pain could produce. She felt herself sinking through the carpet, through the floor, through the layers of dimensions that separated them.  She had retreated from this plane and was in a space she had never seen before.

The space was dark, wet and cold.  She was surrounded by walls. Black dirty walls, the ceiling was too high.  Several stories over her head it loomed.  The smell was lacking in life.  Despite the moisture it seemed nothing could live in this space.  The walls and the floor seamlessly bent from one to the other.  She walked gingerly down the hallway.  It had to be, it was no bigger than 4 feet wide. She passed a mirror and stopped to observe herself. She was bathed in light, and that was all. Her dusky skin nearly glowed with an iridescent pearl gleam that was blue and purple. Her eyes glittered as if set alive by flames. Her hair a curly long orange red mane that drifted to some space right past her ass.

Startled she stepped forward to touch the mirror.  Lightly she placed her fingers right above where her heart would in the image. She heard the tinkling of glass.  The mirror contracted at her touch, seemed to take a deep quick breath then shattered.  Instinctively she covered her face waiting for the additional pain of the cutting glass.  Instead she felt a fine mist.  She dropped her arms and stared at them as the dust left red and gold speckles on her skin, fine and iridescent. She glanced up quickly at the spot the mirror came from and she saw a door.

The door wasn't like anything else in the hallway. It was carved wood, deep brown with hints of red. On it was a tower.  It was long and tall, a perfect cylinder of brick and mortar rising from the middle of the ocean it seemed. The top of the tower had a lookout much like a lighthouse. In the window there was the clear figure of a young boy staring out. Dragons circled overhead their tails blending as they formed a ring around the top of the tower. Snakes slithered from the water inching up the base of the tower. The ocean raged and crashed beneath them. The scene was framed with thorny vines braided outside of the main image.

That's when she noticed the door had no knob.  She walked up to it and traced a wave.  The wood was cool and smooth to the touch. She traced up to a snake to the tower and continued to inch upward. She touched the face of the boy briefly on the cheek. She couldn't tell if the door had whelped or if she had.  The touch had spiked the pain for a second forcing the sound. Instinct only made her lean in closer and press her lips to the boy's forehead. Her closed eyes didn't see what happened because in the next moment she was kissing air.

It was a small room before her. Just a rustic setting. A lovely rug on the wooden floor, a fireplace in the corner lit and blazing.  A comfortable chair with armrests and a high back with velvet red coverings. The fact that there were no windows and the walls were bare was a bit odd.  However it was not nearly as odd as seeing him kneeling in front of the chair putting makeup on what was clearly a dead woman. Her skin was blue. The unnatural hue of someone who has long passed. Her hair was a grey stringy mop falling to her threadbare shoulders.  The white gown was dingy with bits of makeup mistakenly dropped on spots. Her lifeless form stared with eyes dark cold and dead. The hallows of her skull were apparent in her cheeks and mouth.  She was propped in the chair with her arms on the rests and her legs pulled closed, feet planted, makeup in her lap.

He would place makeup on a spot on her face that made her look flesh colored. As he would move on to another area the makeup would slowly disappear. He would notice when the spot he was working on was done and then go back to reapply. She slowly walked over to where he fussed and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"She's not gone you know." he whispered in a well-rehearsed way. "Any minute now she'll be back and this time she'll love me."

She didn't say anything. She knew what this was and she knew who she was. She took has hand away from her face.  She was surprised that he offered no resistance.  She removed the make up sponge from his hand and placed it in the lap of the woman where the rest was. He just stared at the face of the woman as she went blue. In a matter of moments she faded to gray and then dissolved into ash.

The low keening moan that came from him managed to come through her as well as they watched this happen. He sat back on the floor.  She knelt beside him and pulled his head against her chest. She sifted her fingers through his short brown hair enjoying the solid feel of him. He was cold though. Her other hand soothingly rubbed the back of his neck. He let her hold him as he tried to quiet the storm within him. She closed her eyes and held him closer.  She took slow deep breaths and focused herself. When she inhaled she focused on his pain, when she exhaled she focused on soothing. It didn't take long before they were breathing together and the pain storm was subsiding. Slowly his arms crept up and wrapped around her waist.

She jolted up and was in her living room again. As long as she lived she would never forget that day.  That had been the beginning of their unique odyssey.

Sunday, August 31, 2014

The Muse

Sasha watercolors 1998

I’m terrified, for the first time in my life I am honestly tempted to run
All of my bravado, my shit talking ways lay at my feet in dust all but done
Uncertainty does not even begin to describe the depth of my emotions
Confusion does not skim the surface of my delusional notions
I never asked for this, did you, I never wanted this, how could you
Dragged me in by the thick of my hide, kicking and screaming fuck you

I’m petrified, how on earth did you expect me to feel
But it was never about me; you just wanted another way to deal
Selfishness is something I’m all too familiar with, I know how it works
Daily I exercise my right to walk hand and hand with assholes and jerks
Denying the true motive for my rather inhumane form of expression
Deep down inside I just crave to be in their mists, their latest obsession

I’m telling the truth, maybe for the first and last time in my life
I suffer a hole the size of the world ever growing with it’s strife
The shell I wear is the only shield I have against the pain trying to take me
This false persona the only defense against the masochism I want to set free
Lying to myself as I lie to you with a smile of indifference a lack of concern
While I hold myself together trying to quell the fire of outrage that will always burn

Can anyone honestly love a creature such as myself, you see my dilemma
Does such a self-sacrificing creature exist that can tolerate my self-imposed enigma

But I see you, through the haze of tantrums in the face of moral obligation
I see you, through the lies of society on the path to a throne of uncharted destination
Somewhere between my own damnation and your condescension, humility seeped through
Somehow I found a door to another plane of myself of unrecognizable texture and hue

Logic is a notion that can only be defined by itself
Emotion carries facets and karats of immeasurable wealth
I want to taste your tears, revel in the face of your jubilation
I want to incite your passion, stand by you in moments of humiliation
I want your unguarded expressions, be the cause of your lack of concentration
I want what has been denied to others, a bond that defies all analytical explanation

Then I’m resigned by the need and the dependence of such thoughts of you
My lack of patience subsides in the face of avidly wanting to see this through
But my wants are incidental, never as important as I have desired them to be
My need inconsequential as I let fantasy run the course of what could be you and me
In the shadows of my own trepidation that for whatever reason you just might call my bluff
I humbly carry the haunting notion that ultimately my dreams of you will have to be enough

Monday, August 25, 2014

When Did This Start?

Did you always look at me like that or have I not noticed
Yesterday you looked at my lips as if you felt they needed to be kissed
Did you always smile at me like I was the very reason for it
The other day you flashed it at me like the most entertaining thing in the world was my wit

Did my heart always speed up when I see you or did that just start happening
When it did it last night it felt just so natural like that’s the way it’s always been
Did my mind always drift to you at the most unexpected times or is that new
It struck me a second ago that I don’t seem to think of much else that doesn’t relate to you

Was it before or after we met my ideas on life became drastically different
Now I think the world is beautiful, life is rather nice, and all things are heaven sent
Was it before or after our first conversation that I noticed how underrated talking is
The more I hear your voice, the more of you I discover, the more I wonder when we’ll have our first kiss

Was it before or after I noticed how adorable you are that other men have seemed lacking
I know that it makes me not need their backing
Was it before or after I started to fantasize about us together that I forgot the promises I’d already made before
Just when I thought that every part of my life was determined and set I feel like now you’ve shown me another door
I’m starting to believe that all those changes in me are recent
And I think what I see in you isn’t imagination but a persuasive hint

I’m starting to accept my need to understand you
And I think that you can cope with what you’re starting to feel too
I don’t want to keep on trying to figure out how this started in the past
I just want to concentrate and put my mind to trying to make it last

So I’ll stop sitting around and trying to pinpoint the events by the exact days
I think now I want to set aside the befores and afters and take you by the hand and shoot for always

Sunday, August 24, 2014

Blame it on The Moon

Ruins watercolor 1998

The timber of your voice should have been my first clue
The way you smiled at me and held me carefully close to you
Maybe the glint in your eyes should have told the story
Or the brush of your lips on my temple as you whispered “don’t worry”
Your scent filling my head with thoughts I can’t relate
The feel of you beneath my fingertips making it harder for me to wait
Are we victims of midnight, perhaps slaves of the full moon above
Can we cast the blame elsewhere or are we simply doing the unthinkable and falling in love

Perhaps it was in the way you touched me with your hands just like you were with your eyes
The way you took your time to show me beauty before finding your place between my thighs
Maybe it was in the seamless way your body fit mine or was it the other way around
We lay together so perfectly that if one calls I’m never sure who made the sound
Your lips finding that spot on the back of my neck that always sets me off
Your caress light yet strong making me feel like my skin is so soft
Too many love songs on the radio or weddings in June is what I though of
Could they really be our problem or are we simply doing the unimaginable and falling in love

Maybe it was the second glance you gave me as if you saw me in a new light
The look on your face should have given away the entire secret on sight
Your voice, you r touch, your lips all telling me what I refused to hear
Your eyes, your smile, your scent signaling that I have to face my worst fear
Something tells me that I’m not alone but you find that you are ensnared too
Then again maybe in the end it has absolutely nothing to d o with me or you
One minute were having fun the next wondering why we always part so soon
Whether love songs, midnight, or weddings in June, personally I prefer to blame it on the moon

Friday, August 22, 2014

All The Parts

Bears drawn with colored pencils and oil pastels 1993

There are so many parts of us that should be seen to and kept
From the top of our heads to the tips of our toes with each aching breathe
The broad side of us against the narrow core of us
The breadth of us to the very shallow of us

All another piece that comes together to make the whole
From the memories we keep now and lose as we grow old
To the muscle that powers our moves
To the tissue that DNA provides and proves

So I must choose a keeper for my many parts
Is it possible to find just one to update so many charts

So one I choose to care for my body
With you thirst will be seen to whether pure or bawdy

Another I'll entrust with my mind to keep it young and fresh
Each day should be full of knowledge clean with wash and dress

So that leaves my heart for you to insure that it always beat
Fill my life with love that can be felt from head to feet

So that leaves just my soul that I can't seem to fit to a tutor
Perhaps that one is just for me to look after and succor

If there was just one keeper how idea would that be
Just one person to see to all the ends that make up me
It's a dream I can't fulfill, one that has no true match
So I'll try to see to the whole with one by one patch

But the thought always lingers that if there is but only one of me
And with all my parts gathered close to cause me to be
There must exist the other end that looks out with such disheart
Knowing that there must be one who can see to all the parts

Thursday, August 21, 2014

You Know Who You Are (1992-1998) #tbt

What I See (Formerly In the Distance) chalk pastels 1993

I think the first time I saw you was in the back of my mind
I think I created an image that I know I’d never find
You lived in my thoughts and constantly dominated my dreams
Held me completely enwrapped by the lights you beam

I think the first time I met you was in a space in my head
You know where everything is smoky and bathed in red
I think there I loved you without hesitation or thought
Somehow knowing that you were what I constantly sought

Then I believe I discovered myself in the world you created
It seems as soon as you came my mind was something you generated
Then I no longer possessed the control that always defined me
And yet at the same time I can’t ever remember feeling so free

I think I first found the meaning of life in your face
You know when I covered your hand with mine I knew my place
I think I saw the foundation of the universe in your eyes
The love and sacrifice of devotion that explains birth and why we die

I’m almost positive that I’ve never in life done anything so beautiful
No matter if you stay or if we part nothing can destroy a joining so wonderful
I think the minute your lips touched mine we silently trades souls
I know I’d wake up at night dead and cold needing you to be whole

Do you know what its like to love in your mind before you love in life
Do you know what it is to live as a woman when you’re already a wife
You know, you’ve always known
You know, yours before I was even grown
From the beginning you were what I wished for on the first star
All you have to do to look at me to see yourself, you know who you are

Tuesday, August 19, 2014

Why Don't You Love Me (1992-1998)

The Door in charcoal drawn 1992

Just stop thinking about everything
Just feel the pleasure I can bring
Don’t hide yourself away from me
Stop fighting and meet your destiny

You want your life to fall together perfectly
I have a suggestion why don’t you love me

You want something that will last forever
Love me and I won’t stop loving you never
You need a world to escape to
Love me and I’ll hand it to you
You desire opened doors so you can see
Love me and I’ll give you every key
You think your world will be complete and everything you need
I’m afraid that will never happen till you love me

You want nothing to do with a life not in perfect harmony
Well here’s another clue why don’t you love me

Everything you want at your fingertips
Just let the right words pass from your lips
You can’t walk away from things meant to be
So why don’t you just love me

Monday, August 18, 2014

What is There Now? (1992-1998)

Enchantress ebony and colored pencil 1993

Picking up pieces and moving on
Separation from everything in my life wrong
I want to part with all the pain
Leave the hurt and be free and sane
What now is left for me but you
When all else was never true
They don’t know me, not like you
They’ll never understand the things I do
What is there when there is no one else
What when all I trust is you and myself
Where is the light at the end of the tunnel
I only met the pain the place where I fell
What is there now I ask you again
How do you separate from everywhere you’ve been
I’m blind to all that is beautiful now
They’ve taken my heart without a hesitation or bow
Now they strain to take my soul
The possession you protect for me and hold
What now, where is the peace
Where is my salvation, where the hurt will cease
I reach for you and you’re not there
Keeping me whole when I know I’ve had more than I can bear
Do you feel me call for you, somehow hear that I need you
Maybe I crave you because you need me
In some divine way neither of us can see
Maybe I’m just feeling sorry for myself
Or maybe its deeper perhaps something else
Do you need me, is that what there is
Do you fear that I’ll be seen with another and labeled his
I have asked what is there, what’s next
Where is the next stop for me that is best
Every question, a single answer shouted as a vow
Its you, that’s what is there now

Sunday, August 17, 2014

The Last Time (1992-1998)

Clash colored pencil drawn 1993

The last time I felt a warm rain I thought of your touch
The light sweet feel of it’s caress telling me why I miss you so much
The last time I saw the sky steak with the first rays of the sun I remembered your smile
The natural beauty of it slightly indescribable someplace beyond grace and style

The last time I heard thunder rock the sky I heard your voice
The majesty of it always stopped my thoughts and taken away my sense of choice
The last time I watched the ripples of a lake I remembered that you weren’t rally mine
I can watch you move without anyway of changing your course and pretend that it’s just fine

The last time I saw a bird take flight I felt that fragile emotion that holds me to you
I understood that as solid and on the ground as it is, it could one day fly away too
The last time I watched a candle burn I realized that I never wanted this to end
But I couldn’t deny that we could be gone, easily whiffed out in the next strong wind

The last time you kissed me, I felt the sadness in your heart
I remember well because it was the first time your kiss had ever been tart
The last time we made love I saw the hesitance in your eyes
Something about how you looked at me made me want to set you free and cut all ties

The last time you laughed with me is such a distant memory it can’t be recalled
I know when it came to mind how unhappy you were my skin crawled
Amazing how it’s all so vivid now, after everything I can catch every sign
Funny how now it actually makes sense that you said goodbye when I saw you that last time

Saturday, August 16, 2014

The Calm at the Center of the Storm (1992-1998)

Dragons watercolor painted 1998

Think about what’s between us and know what it means
Think about every thought of us and every dream
Think about this peace we share every time we are close to each other
Think about how you’ll never find that with another

The calm at the center of the storm is what we are
The serenity and beauty of what we have we can never mar

Think about me as being a part of you
Think about me and plan your decisions for two
Think about yourself and what you could miss
Think about the moment we touch and the world dissolves to bliss

The calm at the center of the storm is what we are
The peace that can’t even be wished for on a falling star

You’ve thought about our rocky beginning and contemplate an end
But you forget something can’t stop unless its weak enough to bend
Every law of love and friendship we were able to defy
Every one who said that this wasn’t real and would eventually die
But they disappear as soon as one or the other enters
Because in every storm there is calm at the center

Thursday, August 14, 2014

Say Grace (1992-1998) #tbt

What I See chalk pastels drawn 1994

I heard you call to me while the night made it’s leave
I felt your approach as the sun and the sky did cleave

When were you going to say goodbye, were you ever?
How was I to learn of this without second sight I’m not nearly that clever
You’ve always brought to mind images of woven tapestries and regal stances
Filled me with scents of warm rain, nights of jasmine and erotic instances
Held me spellbound by days of soft whispers and lakeside dances
Taught me the way of love with secret meetings and forbidden chances
You bring to mind oceans of lavender, seas of marigolds
Filled me with tales of wisdom, visions of chivalry, legends untold
Held me in the cusp of velvet with satin and lace to fight the cold
Taught me the essence of being a woman when you dared me to be bold

I heard you call to me, and I’ve always known you’d leave
I felt your approach say your heart I will never deceive

When will it really be goodbye, can there ever be a time and place?
How could I ever believe goodbye is possible when with you I have found my grace

Wednesday, August 13, 2014

Rain and Pain (1992-1998)


Rain and pain its all the same
Let yourself know the name of this game
Rain and pain its all the same
Falling in vain leaving from where it came

Times of misery falling quickly
Hope and happiness like a drought that won’t pass
Never knowing which came first or last
Lifting your voice and begging for solace
Hoping God will pick you to bless
Stop the rain and the pain
I call your name, my hurt you drain
Out of me it pours like from the sky
Every drop coincides with every tear I cry

Rain and pain its all the same
There is no blame for another storm I claim
Rain and Pain its all the same
At times it will wane but never change

You can see my tears falling in the rain
Hear my heart breaking in the pain
Feel the storm moving outside
Feeling everything inside leaving as it died

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Pray Through the Night (1992-1998)

Misery watercolor 1998

Lay me down to sleep on this night
Pray my soul to keep till the morning light
I need you by my side can’t let you go
Hold me in your arms till you know

Pray through the night that you’ll stay with me
To the Lord up high that you never leave
Pray through the night that I have your love
To the Lord up high that’s blessed from above

Heaven forbid you falling out of love with me
Lord keep your heart from setting me free
Let the bonds of love never sever
So we can hold each other and be in love forever

Pray through the night for the dreams we share
To the Lord up high for the love we bare
Pray through the night for our times apart
To the Lord up high for the gift of your heart

Calling your name, loud and in vain
Hoping you know from where the cry came
Seeing the faith and hope light in your eyes like a flame
Pushing away the all consuming sorrow and crippling pain

As I say a little prayer for the Lord up high
Let me see your face once more before I die
Please keep me on this earth long enough to know
That if I die you are sure to soon follow

I fall to my knees in a silent plea
Praying that you’ll always stay with me
Clinging to hope like dark does to light
As usual I kneel and pry through the night