Her belly is big with child and her time is near.

Normally that would have meant instant death by removal of the fetus for dining purposes unless someone knew that the child she carries belongs to a clan member or someone else of importance in the temple hierarchy.

What a horrific divorce proceeding …

I realize that I probably know her mate, who undoubtedly turned her over to the temple for whatever reason he felt warranted it. Many times it was due to the noble acquiring a new mistress. I also knew that this one was left alive because when she delivered she would have her child taken as well as her life. I then wondered if we were in a cell in the temple. It would suit if Isda had his way…

As all of this is running through my head she leaves my line of site and I panic for whatever reason and a loud groan of disappointment leaves me, which slides into pain as my jaw flexes. Instantly she is back and the tears from my good eye are brushed away with her slender fingers which I would kiss if I could, for her charity after what has been done to her by my kind and those that serve them.

…

“Make sure it stays dead, there is a possibility of taint…”

I heard him as plain as if he were speaking to me even though I knew I was bound and dressed for the formal interment. Because of my Noble status I was not molested or tested in any way and the normal practice of vivisection was skipped, my flesh was not to be tasted by others. He was lucky in that, lucky of my birthright because it covered his tampering and in my locked and bound state I could hear his perfect smugness.

I realized too, as I feel the box dropped into the ground that the poor fool who just took money to make sure I was beyond accidentally getting back up, was dead as soon as he reported back he had done his job. I found it hard to care, the frustration of not being able to move or even open my eyes was enough to make me silently fixate on the fact I wasn’t even breathing in a discernable fashion. I knew he thought me dead, and I might be, actually, maybe this is what death was… being trapped in a vessel you can not control. Being jostled around I realized later that that wasn’t the worst part. I could feel pain and hunger and thirst and though I did get a front row seat at my funeral I listened with disgust all of the side commentary and the awful things my kind says to each other. I vowed then should I ever get a second chance, I would never allow myself to be as they are.

Jaded, manipulative and arrogant to the point of boredom with their existence.

“I will do as you ask, but it is a mortal sin, he is one of you… M’lord.”

“He was never one of us...the others are just sentimental and I am gracious in not dispelling their illusions… I will pay you extra because I am honoring their grief. Were he one of us he would never had succumbed to the virus, only the weak have done so and in the end the survivors will be their own birthright.”

I howl silently in rage. And wonder how that poor vassal did not see the portent of such an admission.

…

The next days become definable by the waking and the light and a gnawing itch that has started deep in my bones. Her ruined head a welcome sight, her soft touch lusted after to alleviate the burning itch that seems to envelop me. I have started moving my jaw some and sounds are happening like small whimpers and howls now, I feel like a pitiful animal and I have the sense I should not be healing this fast.

It hits home especially at the point where she is redressing my eye and looking at it perplexed as I open it carefully and blink to get the image to clear. With two eyes, the depth of her wounds make me wince and want to comfort her. Her undamaged skin is moonlight pale and smooth and they left most of her face intact though there are shadows of bruising under her left eye and her lip has fresh pink skin as if newly healed. Whoever performed the ritual on her had taken care not to spoil her completely, they had either been under orders to not scar her face or the ceremony had been very subdued.

As she is chewing on her lip and looking at my eye and feeling around where the dressing has been, brushing away sleep and bits of the bandage, I realize her belly is pressed against my good hand and I sigh feeling the warmth of her skin and without thinking I move it to cup her belly gently a greeting to what was undoubtedly my kinsman in her womb. She starts and I realize she hasn’t been touched with a kind hand in a long time as she backs away and I feel tears start.

I desperately try to comfort her.

“Please, I mean no harm… “ The words come out like razors dragging across my vocal cords and I start coughing…

Then she is there dribbling a tiny bit of cool water into my mouth to stop the wracking and wrenching. The moan coming from me subsides as she touches me and I feel her hand holding mine down from the flail I had started. I grab it and squeeze frantically and refuse to let go.

“Please don’t leave me..” softly this time, carefully.

When I wake next her head is next to my chest and her hand is still in mine. I realize she is sleeping and I reach across with my left hand, which had been in a sling against my chest and touch her scarred head gently… fingers barely brushing the raised surfaces of healing wondering if she could be restored. When she raises her head sleepily I slide my fingers down her unspoiled jaw line and touch her lips.

She shakes free of me frowning and backing away. And her voice which has been something I assumed she could not use for some reason blows across me coolly.

“I help you because you were hurt by them, but I know what you are… and your charity is as duplicitous as theirs. I pray to the Mother that you prove me wrong and that they singled one of their own out for a reason.”

It’s like a knife, cold and sterile.

“There are no gods…” I say simply as the itch in my jaw makes me grind my teeth. Suddenly I can’t take the pressure of the bandage any more and I reach up with my good hand and rip it off. Scratching at the tender itch ridden flesh I glance back at her thinking her deep woods ignorance is annoying until I met her eyes and realize she knows something about what had happened to me and I was in fact the ignorant one. There was also something akin to pity there and it disturbed me greatly.

She left me scratching and trying to ask her what she knew.

…

These are the days that I've been missing,
Give me the taste, give me the joy of summer wine.

These are the days that bring new meaning,
I feel the stillness of the sun and I feel fine.

Sometimes when the nights are closing early,
I remember you and I start to smile.

Even though now you don't want to know me,
I get on by, and I go the extra mile.

These are the times of love and meaning,
Ice of the heart melted away, and found the light.

These are the days of endless dreaming,
Troubles of life are floatin' away like a bird IN flight.

These are the days
These are the days
These are the days

I thought you said our love would last for ever
Believing that the tears would end for good.

I told you that we'd get through any weather
Maybe that didn't work out, but we did the best we could.

These are the days that I've been missing
Give me the taste, give me the joy of SOME wine.

These are the days that bring new meaning,
I feel the stillness of the sun...and I feel fine.

The red head sneers, his long lashes fluttered in a feminine way as he mockingly commented on what he was doing to the little female he had on the table… she was in the middle of the change but was weak from being leached for the last week and the moon had yet to come fully so she was whimpering and pitiful.

” You are being weak in your sympathies, you are above these, we consume these creatures why would you ever feel bad about this…”

Something was twisted in that he was finding pleasure with something that should be passionless…

The little beast was crying softly and shuddering as the needle slid under her skin yet again.

…

When I wake this time I am looking for it, the eye… I can feel that my face has been dressed and that there is a wrap around my head supporting my jaw. The pressure is unpleasant but miles away better than the loose, hanging agony that it had been. And I can think much more clearly with the pain defined to particular areas.

This time I see both eyes, clear gray and angled differently than my own. The lashes seem to indicate they belong to a female but one can never be sure and I am admittedly viewing from an odd angle and totally lacking any depth perception. The brow line is high and arched and the forehead is smooth and pale. It brings to mind the red haired man in my dream, there should be a name but all I get is an image. The gray eyes crinkle slightly at the corners in greeting and I wonder why their owner doesn’t speak.

I can essentially make out both eyes and the areas to either side of them. I can see the right ear tip the other seeming to be missing or malformed. There is a scar running across the left temple, which may explain the missing ear top. The person moves close too fast for me to see any more of them. I realize for the fist time it is cooler and that the crushing pain and the knife stabbing spikes in my chest as I breathe are a little less this time. Not a lot mind you, but a little.

The eye(s) ask me if we can continue finding the spots to bind and I blink in readiness. The relief in my head enough to make me endure as many passing outs as needed to eventually get it all done.

I feel the cold fingers, thoughtful of their size but unable to truly tell anything about them as they slide over what I assume is unbroken skin that feels tight and pulsing. I blink frantically when the edges merge with tissue that is throbbing or when my vision starts to go black despite the very gentle touch.

It takes several times to complete it all, each area of my body bound in turn and the eyes waiting for me to wake so we can move on to the next. In the end I am wrapped not unlike the dead for burial. But I am finally breathing with out knives stabbing me and flexing things like the fingers on my right hand with a minimal amount of repercussion.

I am obsessed with getting a good look at my benefactor but frustratingly they are able to fade back into the shadows too quickly for me to get more than the barest sense of their size and nothing more. When I wake and they are not here, I weep. And when they are here, I rejoice. It doesn’t occur to me that I see no other eyes, no other people. I have become increasingly aware that there is moist cool breeze where we are and that the smell of grass and soil is all around. Light is faint but seems to cycle just like the sun I remember.

…

“ I know exactly what you are doing!”

Searing pain as the injection site rejects the last injection and the odd sense of betrayal and relief as the fluid injected dripped back out the shunt in my arm. But the grim humor is cut short as convulsions start and the world blurs and wracking pain courses throughout my body as the poison finds its way in even though the majority of it was rejected.

The last injection was in fact poison, not the serum. As my eyes went dark I realized he would have been killed by the others had he been found out to be tampering with the serums even though revenge was an honored pastime, this was not the appropriate venue. There were too many lives dependent on it, or so they thought and it would have lead the others to question his methods.

He had miscalculated the serum he had used on me… it seems he miss calculated it badly.

…

Isda... his name is Isda... and that should tell me who I am but it does not.

As time has passed, in such a way I am unaware of exactly how long I have been healing the pain seemed to subside daily from my extremities. But as so many times in life when we are focused on what hurts, I didn’t realize fully at first what did not.

The eyes brought me drink, and by the taste, medicine. They also fed me soft melting bits of what I think is cocoa it was both bitter and sweet and it satisfied something in me that was gnawing.

The first time I see her face I do so because she thinks I am asleep.

She is redressing my bad eye and the effort has made me open it slightly and though blurry I can see shadows and somewhere deep inside I nod to myself, never really wondering if it would heal always knowing I would eventually get it back. As she is washing the silt and salve from it to redress it I squint through my good one and swallow hard. Her fingers freeze and she looks down at me where my good eye has snapped open in shock.

Her head, which I can see was once beautiful, has been brutalized. She is missing the tip off of the ear closest to me, the wound spans the temple on that side of her head as well. Her scalp, which is what I have to call it, has sections of hair that have sprouted through what look to be deep fairly fresh scars which I recognized suddenly as ritual torture, removal of her hair… with a sickening start I acknowledge, she should not be alive.

The steps of the ritual were the scalping, hot stone binding, inverted crucifixion and ending in ritualized rape until death occurs (and most cases after it does) the cultists that did these things were the ones who had the belief that Isda will save us all from the virus that threatens our entire race. The victims? Those who were not part of the central clan, any humans captured as well as any other types that were none of the culled breeds.

All of this spilled out of vat in the back of my mind as I starred at her. Her brows knit defiantly at me and I see why she survived as she moves back from me a deep frown on her face.


…

If :

Empathy = Apathy

Compassion = Competition

Honor = Selective Honesty

Then:

Communication = Confrontation

Discussion = Disruption

Questions = interrogation



Honestly no, you can not because all a vacuum does is SUCK lol.

You walked into the party
Like you were walking onto a yacht
Your hat strategically dipped below one eye
Your scarf it was apricot
You had one eye in the mirror
As you watched yourself gavotte
And all the girls dreamed that they'd be your partner
They'd be your partner, and

You're so vain
You probably think this song is about you
You're so vain
I'll bet you think this song is about you
Don't you? Don't you?

You had me several years ago
When I was still quite naive
Well, you said that we made such a pretty pair
And that you would never leave
But you gave away the things you loved
And one of them was me
I had some dreams they were clouds in my coffee
Clouds in my coffee, and

You're so vain
You probably think this song is about you
You're so vain
I'll bet you think this song is about you
Don't you? Don't you?

I had some dreams they were clouds in my coffee
Clouds in my coffee, and

You're so vain
You probably think this song is about you
You're so vain
I'll bet you think this song is about you
Don't you? Don't you?

Well, I hear you went up to Saratoga
And your horse naturally won
Then you flew your Lear jet up to Nova Scotia
To see the total eclipse of the sun
Well, you're where you should be all the time
And when you're not, you're with
Some underworld spy or the wife of a close friend
Wife of a close friend, and

You're so vain
You probably think this song is about you
You're so vain
I'll bet you think this song is about you
Don't you? Don't you? Don't you?

You're so vain
You probably think this song is about you
You're so vain
You probably think this song is about you
You're so vain
You probably think this song is about you

You're so vain (so vain)
I'll bet you think this song is about you
Don't you? Don't you? Don't you?

I won’t be so hard on me today
I start to take myself so seriously
Shouldn’t be so hard just to be effortlessly
It shouldn’t be so hard to keep it together
It shouldn’t be so hard to say the right things to you
It shouldn’t be so hard just to be effortlessly

(pre-chorus)
Weightless worries fall away
Wasted pools of energy
I want to know I want to breathe

(chorus)
Effortlessly - just be
I want to be effortlessly
I want to be

It shouldn’t be so hard to be inspired
It shouldn’t be so hard just to write this song
It shouldn’t be so hard to be wrong or to agree
It shouldn’t be so hard to change the world
It shouldn’t be so hard just to change your mind
It shouldn’t be so hard just to be effortlessly

(pre-chorus)
(chorus)

I won’t be so hard on me today
I start to take myself so seriously
Shouldn’t be so hard just to be effortlessly

Effortlessly
I want to know
I want to breathe
I want to simplify my needs
I want to live inside this moment
And just be effortlessly
Just be
I wanna be effortlessly
I want to be

What do we want? As humans? As animals and as reasoning beings capable of logic?

I personally have thought about this a lot in my life. Bottom line I need shelter security food air water and supposedly companionship. The qualifier on the last item sounds jaded but I’m not, I just know I am capable of dealing with VERY long stretches of time without it but eventually yes, I wind back around looking for another mind to connect with and now and then, another body.

What do I want though? Surprisingly that is easy. I want to be happy. Not ecstatic or blissful or euphoric. I simply want that every day be met with a “lets do this” attitude. Not that I always feel that way, certainly I don’t but I usually end up pulling it together on those days and making an effort (though sometimes marginal). I want that the good in some ways out weigh the bad. I can handle a roller coaster if the highs exceed the lows.

I am a typically happy person. I laugh more than I cry even though I went through that dark phase where that wasn’t the case, I smile more often than I realize. I take care of myself I don’t need anyone to do that, I have the nerve and back bone to address just about any issue I have to if pressed.

Save one.

Intimacy.

I can talk to all and any about what’s going on in my head, with my body, all that but to truly open up and be exposed and vulnerable … naked and shaking, leaves a mark on my animal self.

I have recently realized I assumed most people were this way. That sex was a mutual showing of the jugular. That posturing to get that point is a dance of equals if it is mutual.

I was wrong.

It’s happened before. Believe it or not it happens every day. But there something I take for granted and my physical appearance has always made me feel pretty confident that I would never be taken advantage of for something that could be got in a prettier package. Not that I am repulsive save in my lack of pride when I get scared sometimes. It’s hard to explain how someone who has survived the shit I have has learned to deal with close quarters emotional things but I will say this: I give first because fighting doesn’t work unless I know where I stand.

Sometimes it takes flaming letters in the sky for me to understand where my feet are.

I’ve walked away from most of my few lovers with a straight back and heavy heart but it was never about not caring for them anymore. It was about survival. I would still do for any of them any thing I could. If I truly can not survive in a situation, if I start to lose who I am, I leave, period.

I think too much. I worry too much and I feel things on a razors edge… every thing comes hard and fast and it has always given me the desire to see it through. So much to learn and I have to have a passion for it or I am not interested long enough for the lessons to conclude. Which they never do, as people we have so many facets and faces that it is impossible to ever know someone completely and this is what is fantastic about it. Every day the same person, never the same exact responses.

I know who I am, but I surprise myself all the time. I do things I tell myself I won’t, and some would call it lack of self discipline, but I know that it has given me opportunities others have missed. I have been reasonable and missed my share as well. I have stepped back and been cold and calculating and done the “right thing” more often than not. But every once in a while I let my instinct take over. Unfortunately it doesn’t always end clean and calm and safe but I wouldn’t trade any of those moments for the cold ones.

Ever. None of them.

I’ve known men who cry when they come, ones that sing softly under their breath into my ear, ones that under stood mechanics but little else and ones that couldn’t even expose a little of themselves while they were buck naked.

I’ve seen men I have loved struggling to get me to feel what they feel when it just wasn’t the same. I’ve seen men want the security not the reality and I’ve watched men grieve old loves and been helpless to ease their pain. I cared for and wanted every one of them and gave them each the time to make the cases they need to before realizing it wasn’t where I was supposed to be. My heart knows when it’s done with certain aspects of a relationship but never do I write off anyone who has seen me break.

As an adult I have the right to break for those I feel worthy. As a child I was repeatedly forced down treated as if demoralizing was required to make me a better person. Who knows maybe it worked, but the love I have for life came despite the lack of it as a kid. I will never again in my life submit to something unwillingly and allow that kind of hurt.

If I do something now it is for me, be it for survival or striving for that happiness that I want before I die.

One step back. So the picture widens.

If you don’t want to know me, it is wasted effort for both of us. It is going through the motions and that is my biggest fear. That I should become a receptacle instead of a person is my worst nightmare. If I willingly submit to that, I return to my powerless childhood where I am waiting for it to be over instead of being part of something that is working toward a common goal. Not that the idea in some cases isn’t appealing on a basic animal level. Actually it has been really hard to come up with why I am struggling so hard with it.

I choose to not spend my life waiting for ends. Even if I sometimes look for them in a panic. I am easily calmed if one is inclined.

I can take being in different mind sets and frames of emotional need. I am an alpha, I take care of myself and every thing I need as well as a lot of things I want. I don’t do needy though I have a shaky worried vulnerable thing that happens when I don’t know where I stand. If you wait long enough I will talk myself out of being with you if you never give me a solid foundation. But it would be easier if you just told me if you want to know me.

The rest will take care of itself one way or another.

Cracking a hesitant lid I fight the wave of nausea that follows the action trying not to jerk at the spike of light that falls on my throbbing eye. Slowly and carefully I work it open against the light. Spikes of pain and an encompassing internal throb remind me I have more than just an eyeball attached to the consciousness that is fluttering and telling me I need to move. I … it’s such a simple thing but the concept is fleeting until the tingle and throb becomes apparent in the edges of my being.

Who am …I? or better yet … what am I?

Images slide through my mind but they are nonsensical and strange and I am unable to identify anyone. I have no sense of what is attached to the part that is thinking. All that exists is the urge to move.

The surface I can feel under me though I am not quite sure which way is under seems to be hot and it slips as I twitch trying to move parts as I start to feel them. The pain is searing and moves through me like fluid fire. Whatever I am, who ever I am I have been injured beyond anything I can comprehend the fact that I can now tell I am breathing by the way the pain crushes my chest with each pull of air triggers the realization that this process is not supposed to feel like knives are trying to vent the air back out where I have just sucked it in.

After what seems like an eternity of testing my extremities as the pain expands outward from my chest I try gently to raise my head with the one eye I have been able to open trying to focus. As I tense the muscles and try the light that was seeping in fades and scatters and the pain ceases as dark covers me again.

…

This time I know I have one working eye before I am moved to open the lid, I am conscious that the second one (somehow I am sure there are two) has pressure on it and will not comply. I am pretty sure I was once a man and in my head I know in general what I should appear like. These particular thoughts flood through quickly reacquainting me with what I am but the process is lost on the who. The pain is dripping back through me as the dark is washing back starting with my one opening eye.

There is a crushing pressure on all parts of my body that I can visualize and I am moved to give voice to the pain, I attempt to open the aching area that must be my mouth only to groan inwardly…

Somewhere in the back of my mind I realize that I will die, that water needs to be consumed and I am unable to move to do a damn thing about it… labored breathing is the best I can do for now. The pain is like a blanket covering all that I know to be me.

I lay for what seems like eons each breath taking years, and ending with what would be tears of pain if my body could produce them.

…

I awake the next time to the feel of something cool in the middle of the searing hot pain. It starts on my lips bringing what fluid I have to produce to my mouth in response. My one eye is snapping open but I am unable to make out what is causing the coolness I just know it is a pin point of comfort in the hellish burning agony my body is submerged in.

I feel it part my lips and try to stay alert as it slides between my teeth. Thankful it doesn’t put pressure on my jaw, which I can’t move, I feel it spread out into my palette. I should wonder what it is, but my body already knows and I am swallowing instinctively as it finds its way to the back of my mouth. The cool sensation is like heaven. As I work it down into my throat it occurs to me that I must not be alone. And the thought is so comforting this time I fall asleep not from pain but simple exhaustion and relief. Regardless what it means, I want to live.

…

I am blinking. The lid is fluttering at it’s own discretion. It’s doing so in the response to something touching the lashes. I can feel them now, each individual lash, the one spot on my body that isn’t completely immobilized with agonizing pressure or searing pain. The black mass flicks through my lashes again, I feel of air moving across my skin. I am aware of the first time since I started waking of smell… I smell a spice I can’t place and an odor I can. I smell wet grass. The spike in my head denies that I should be smelling wet grass… and a vision of where I last remember being conscious flutters on the edge of my awareness and encapsulates my mind in a solid memory, the first one I am aware of.

…

Sand… lots of it, hot and stinging. A horrific crushing pain in my hands, head and back and the urge to rend and tear apart anything that gets in my way… my vision is different here … its strangely muted like a portrait done in all warm tones and there are only spots of recognizable color as if assigned at random in the murky sepia world.

A face I remember deep within me is speaking it is animated with frantic anger and passion. I can not hear him, the sound is being ripped away by wind and masked by a staggeringly pitiful howl and screams of agony … which after a moment I know are coming from me…

…

I start, feeling as if my body will fly apart, every nerve ending seeming to vibrate. The involuntary motion of waking violently causes all my pain to amplify. I try to focus on the one spot that isn’t feeling like it is about to combust. There is a cool sensation on my eyelid and cheek, it’s moving across the skin in a rhythm that matches the way my heart should be beating, slow and steady and I feel my body coming down to it. Slowing back down, muscles un-clenching and the intensified anguish ebbing away in tiny bits as it does so. My chest rising and falling in frantic need is slowing too causing the knives to plunge less deeply.

As my body slows down to its normal labored rhythm, the vision in my good eye slowly clears. The hazy grays fade and then sharpen so that I am able to see a brighter area of light and as that comes into focus I realize I am looking directly into another persons eye.

I am too exhausted to be surprised. I am pretty sure another shock like the last would have been the death of me. The eye blinks and the brow above it raises in surprise. Whoever owns the eye did not expect me to be conscious or aware. I feel the cool sensation again now and it slides over my skin and I realize it is fingers, cool fingers touching me lightly the eye brow raising questioningly as it feels its way around my face… when the cool reaches the edges of the skin that doesn’t smart and borders on the skin that does I blink frantically, trying not to tear up or else lose contact with the eye.

I see the eye acknowledge the change and feel the cool back track and try a different direction. We use this process until the owner of the eye has established which parts of my skull are most likely broken or damaged. To my surprise it wears me out almost to the point of my eye closing on it’s own. I fight it, this is the first contact I’ve had and I am loathe to let it go. I feel the cool start in on my left side and immediately I flutter this time, begging the owner of the eye to stop which they do right before all goes black again.

…

lol i come here for cleansing and my mind goes blank.

figures.

lets see.

hurt anger disgust incredulous disbelief sorrow and embarrassment

not even sure how i got here but im pretty sure my radar is fucked up badly to have lead me the way i went this time. i have never been so constantly confused lol ive never had such a cold fish situation that wouldn't even offer me a brutal kindness of chopping off my outstretched hands.

he had to make it my fault i think, not that i will ever know.

it is amazing that someone like him is such a victim and desires to be one.

i am so incredibly well...

lol nothing really oddly its like i had a beautiful puzzle, one that promised to be a fantastic picture maybe resulting in something i could frame and enjoy for a long time. i like quirky things its no secret. i don't mind taking blame, its kinda my thing but wow i never got enough pieces of the damn thing to even get an impression of the image it held... so i have this handful of pieces and i realized that i had been tearing pieces of me out to try to compensate for what was missing.

i was trying to stuff my hurt torn parts in the gaps to complete it.

i don't even get to finish the puzzle

pisses me off.

so far away

you always say

exactly what you want to.

we should thank the fates that put us continents apart for it

because i would doubt that man was capable of straight talk if it interfered with his agendas save that you...

always say exactly what you want to.

no matter who believes and/or understands it.

i know we are different in so many ways

but i understand

and i think you do too

it is never worth the mincing of words,  it always worth the effort to say what one must.

even when it makes an ass or opens us up for disappointment.

why?

because we are the ones who don't let that stop us.

one does not have to be coarse or rude or even belligerent.

sometimes one must simply not hold back

i adore you, you make me feel less odd in this life because you too stop nothing at the lips that comes from the heart.

speak not of my Lancelot there are no words for the beauty of his hands

or the sorrow of missing them

his words will echo until i die, a eulogy of mockery for love denied

Aurthur's quiet justice met in the silence of miles

i hear only the voice of a god whose offer of peace is tongue in cheek

no endeavors will result with the mirror of my soul being returned to me

my inability to act will haunt the rest of my days

the icy grasp of the lady's hand is the only contact that is a comfort

Nimue bless you and the ebb and flow of change around me

without it i would go mad...

sailors come and go ...they all take little bits of the sand but the tide continues  and eventually all will get lost in the mists

it is clear that i have always gone too far  too fast

the tether that keeps my soul here is invisible and hated like shackles to a slave

the one who could feel as deeply forever a finger tip away

and yet too far to ever reach for

i have always thought i deserved this purgatory

dancing into the light splashes colors about and makes me long for the darkness...

the cold calm, my only mirror the water i was born to...

deny forever the fire in my soul

it is the unavoidable oxymoron

i do not regret my passion

i regret it is surrounded by the cold, depth of logic and the need to delve in to understand.

costs me all

it never varies 

"a flame that flickers twice as bright ... lingers half as long"

Lancelot laughs.

i am sure now ...

i will order the hushpuppies.

She sat on the edge swinging her legs, from a distance she probably appeared to be a young girl.  Her pony tail belying  her almost forty years and the sag of her shoulders hiding her obvious maturity.

 

She is waiting for someone but when that person arrives she is the only one who knows.

 

She looks as if she is responding to the breeze lifting and pushing her hair aside.  She tilts her head so the unseen visitor can whisper in her ear.  She shudders slightly at the ethereal caress of the wind.

 

Ahh, earth mother… you are sad, we can all sense it…

 

She whispers in response not opening her eyes but a fleeting thought that she hopes no one sees her.  It’s part of the reason so goes to that bridge in the middle of nowhere. 

 

“Lymi, you all know my mind…”

 

And your heart…  mother, we are troubled.

 

The breeze blows an errant lock across her forehead and she flutters her lashes slightly but through the slight crack of her lids she can see long platinum hair and moonlight pale skin.  She knows if she opens her eyes the image will vanish, she is never allowed the whole effect.

 

“I will be fine…”

 

You do not fool us.  Why do you act like it doesn’t matter?  We can see your confusion it has silenced Isla, she no longer sings, it has angered Vivane and Eme they are preparing swords … do you need them?

 

… You know I do not.  Lymi you know it is pain, in need of healing and that it was self wrought.

 

Yes, lady but you have been lax in removing yourself from it… that has the fighters in grim purpose… they don’t understand why.  Nomi has tested her chains, when will you let her free?

 

… it isn’t something they can fight… it isn’t something I can fight, it is out of my hands…

 

Ahh… there is the sorrow…she’s waited so long….

 

The breeze plays across her forehead and down her neck and a bitter sweet melody seems to be heard in the distance…

 

Isla…

 

At least you’ve given her cause to play…

 

She closes her eyes tighter and feels cool, gentle fingers caressing her face and murmured spells that in another world would heal her and boost her up so that she could open her eyes.  But just now she keeps them shut.

 

So is it defeat?...will the beloved one stay caged?

 

In a way yes.  But not the kind of thing I could have won… it was someone else’s fight all together. 

 

Did they give up?

 

Yes.

 

Why don’t you help them so they don’t lose heart?  Why not let her out anyway?

 

That is exactly what they were afraid of my dearest.  And she would only be crushed again and I can not do that to her.

 

Ahh…

 

Ageless wisdom, fingers that can bring back the dead and a soft melody on the wind.

 

Can you not rewrite it?  You are goddess. You can create it differently.  Set her free she has been almost awake for a fortnight…

 

Not for this Lymi, no… for me there are different rules…

 

Why did they give up?

 

Because I let them, but also because it wasn’t time…and it wasn’t me…

 

Time is precious… but you can rewrite …

 

No, not for him no…

 

Why?

 

Because it is up to him…

 

What will you do?

 

What would you do Lym?

 

There is a giggle and the fingers tickle her for a second.

 

As if my mother goddess does not know what I would do… 

 

She smiles allowing her eyes to open slightly again just to see the strands of silver blowing on the breeze, being the breeze.

 

Aye, Lymi… but he would have loved you… and the point would have been moot, for who can not love one such as you?

 

All too true mother! 

 

She smiles feeling the fingers grip her shoulders and pull them upright and squeeze them reassuringly.

 

But … never forget fragile goddess… we are one… and the angry righteous blades await your call to arms and the music comes at your behest and the healing … my hands are yours… re write the pain mother… let me do my work for you.  The day will come when you unbind her and you are complete again…

 

We are learning a new lesson Lyms…

 

No, mother it’s an old lesson… you simply forgot it and have tried hard not to recall.  Do not dally here,  we have lives to live… all of us.  And she has slept far too long.

 

When she opens her eyes her shoulders are level and though she isn’t smiling she knows she is ok. And the wind is still blowing, the silver strands only glints of sunlight and the music is only the rush of the water beneath the bridge on which she sits.

 

She knows she feels differently, more intensely than most people… perhaps it is because she feels for so many.

 

…Nomi, beloved, some day when I am sure … I promise.

Years of careful ..

seemingly eons of avoidance and careful strategic aloofness...

I know the exact moment my world fell in and I became a blithering idiot.

Lol no im not gonna cry and lament and beg for understanding.  But I probably will wax morose a little but please know I am listening to blues, its over cast and I want a beer something awful!

Talking to a boy, a new one there have been a few lately, new friends, people who want things from me but who I could take or leave.  Most made me smile, few made me actually laugh… this one had.

I’d had a pretty decent day, I got hit on at lunch by some guy driving by in a blazer who then turned around the block and came back and asked me how he could get to know me… yeah creepy but flattering … I was feeling pretty good at that point.

Anyway this boy, the new one … cute sure, but he had my attention he was smart but not stuffy, kind and attentive, spoke with assurance and even flirted with an honesty that I so adore.  So there might have been a little pressure in the meeting up part.  Just a little, but nothing new for me really other than I say no more often than yes and I almost did because its always more work than its worth.  Its always something I wish I would have skipped later because it tortures two people in to having to be nice for hours when honestly id rather have been home washing my dog.

The new boy is different looking than I expect when I walk in, he is thinner and his hair is lighter but I know it’s him.  I’d have known even if he hadn’t told me what he was wearing that it was him.  He looks up quicker than I anticipated so I didn’t get to do a study before the approach, lol now you know guys, we look you over and take notes upon approach.  The one thing I noticed immediately was his chin, not sure why, just did. He looks up at the exact same time I am fixated on his chin, and juts it at me to greet me, at the same time he does the thing that sets me on edge for the better part of the evening.

He blinks.  Not a normal blink, the only way I can explain it is to say he blinked REAL HARD.  Just once, real hard then looked at his hands for a split second.  This isn’t something I normally would pay that much attention to, seriously I was expecting very little but for some reason my heart seized on that motion and the word disappointment popped into my head.  I realized quite suddenly, probably because I felt as if he was wincing at my appearance that it mattered to me for some reason what he thought of me.  

I spent the next few hours trying to get over that first impression.  Or trying to actually pretend it hadn’t happened.

Lol isn’t it funny the weird things we focus on?

It’s taken me a month to finally decide I can’t change that wince.  I can’t fix it, no matter what I do and yeah if that were the weirdest thing that had happened to me lately I could probably go into greater detail, I am a people watcher… its what I do, but my powers of observation are squashed because I also just had a voice from the past blow me out of the water in every possible way.

Demons leave tags on your soul.  Even demons you thought you exercised and bound even demons you were sure you were safe from in every way.

What the hell do you do when after 15 years, the polite “just let it go” turns into apologies?  

I don’t think my life could get any weirder LOL.

/sigh

I may hide under a rock for a while, this may be a sign that I am not to move forward.  Maybe I am meant to be the way I’ve been… maybe it’s better to stay safe rather than sorry.

The returning demon was one that ripped me apart and left me begging for mercy.  Getting his claws out of me meant tearing my self apart to walk away.  It was the most painful thing I have ever done.  And I’ve had to make the hard calls all my life.

I think I shall remain very very still until the storm passes.

 So I was talking to my roommate.

 Who I dated once long ago…

 Who is struggling with the whole dating scene in a much more positive way than I have been… in a way with forward motion.  He knows me pretty well, he’s watched the antisocial, overly critical and completely unrealistic person evolve…

 “why don’t you bring her over?”

 “not ready for her to meet everyone yet …”

 “am I that scary?”

 “no.”

 “then what is the problem?”

 “dunno if  I like her enough to put her through the fire with the rest of the gang.”

 “… erm ok… I guess I don’t get it … but then again I don’t get a lot since im damaged… “ (remember this was drunken)

 “Aw hell D, you aren’t damaged, you’re still waiting to be wooed”

 “Eh?”

 “You want someone who is willing to try to get to you without laying a hand on you first.”

 “You make me sound more like a prude than anything else…”

 Green eyes meet mine and an eyebrow flies up and he screws up his face…

 “Hardly, I do remember dating you, back before you had an obstacle course in place for your dates…”

 “Eh… I’m just not desperate…”

 “No you’re just not hopeful…  what possible standard are you trying to reach before you let someone actually be more than an errand boy for you?”

 “I don’t know smarty pants you tell me….”

 He rolls his eyes.

 “You would take any man that could prove to you they wanted you but didn’t NEED you… and then you would demand they NEED you in order to stay…”

 I consider this.

 “Ok, then why didn’t the technical writer work out?  He didn’t NEED me… he made good money…(and smelled funny)”

 “He thought he needed you … he wanted an instant relationship… he was weird enough, which ill never understand how you tolerated me since I’m normal (laughs) but he was too dead set on a REAL relationship… you couldn’t deal… plus you said he smelled funny.”

 “Ok what about the divorce?”

 “(laughs) come on…he told you all of his physical aliments in the first half hour you talked to him… any one who knows you knows any show of weakness is a death knell.”

 “Ok what about the piano man?”

 “He was too nice…you’d have chewed him up and spit him out and you both knew it.  Plus he liked your brother…that would have ended ugly… disaster avoided really.”

 I laugh.

 “I give up..”

 “You did that a long time ago..”

 “Shut up…and get me another beer…”

 SPLASH….thunk, clamor… woooooo (from the dog) rustle… splash…

 “woo thankies !”

 “(chuckles) don’t get any ideas next time you get it… its freaking cold out there.”

 “see this?”

 “Yeah?  It’s a bottle top.”

 I laugh…

“Don’t you dare give me a hard time for not opening your fucking bottle… I know I’m not getting laid here..”

We both laugh.

 “ I’d have done it for you…. “

 “no you wouldn’t, I don’t drink that shit.”

 “ahh true but I can crack a coke can open and I don’t expect to get laid!”

 “that’s part of your problem…”

 “ewwww!”

 “(laughs) OH shut up that is NOT what I meant!”

 “ whew!”

“ (shakes head) you expect people to do things for nothing… because they are like you… and D, they aren’t… they just aren’t”

 “you speak truth! (said like some important sooth sayer type with furrowed brows)”

 He rolls his eyes again.

 “you cant even take your imminent old maid hood seriously! … it’s the end of the world D your ovaries are set to implode in like a year or something!”

 I give him the finger and drink my beer sloppily.

 “fuck you.”

 “if youre that desperate sure…”

 “im never that desperate… I have resources.”

 “I just wanted you to know … if you really needed it … id help a friend out… but ya know I am not the wild animal type you like… “

 “its like kissing my brother…”

 “EWWW you kissed that asshole?”

 “erm … no bleh … “

 He winks.  I drink and life goes on.

delusional i believed i could cure it all for you dear
coax or trick or drive or drag the demons from you
make it right for you sleeping beauty
truly thought i could heal you
far beyond a visible sign of your awakening
failing miserably to rescue sleeping beauty
drunk on ego truly thought i could make it right
if i kissed you one more time to help you face the nightmare
but you're far too poisoned for me
such a fool to think that i could wake you from your slumber
that i could actually heal you
sleeping beauty poisoned and hopeless
far beyond a visible sign of your awakening
failing miserably to find a way to comfort you
far beyond a visible sign of you awakening
and hiding from some poisoned memory
poisoned and hopeless sleeping beauty

what are friends worth to you?

what do you think of when someone says they are your friend?

if you perceive those people you trust as screwing up somehow... or perhaps betraying you somehow what colors that ?  when do you move from trust to the point of thinking someone who has told you they care is playing you?

i guess i have a few thoughts on that but ill get to them in a minute because this day and age i think one needs to define friends.

there are RL friends, people you have known and are physically around.  people you choose to have in your life and they choose to let you...  i have several of these and i have to admit, i have no idea how i got so lucky.  i love them for all the things they do and don't do respectively, i love them for who they are and who i know they will be tomorrow.  i also love them every time they surprise me with the curve ball from left field.   i don't think any of them doubt me, and i hope they all know id do anything for them because i value them and they make my life brighter just by existing.

now there is another kind of friend and i guess for lack of a better term i will call them e-friends.  I have had a weird initiation into e-life and e-friendships the first close e-friend i made lied to me for months and then turned around and hurt me really bad and disappeared forever.  i would still be happy to hear from him/her if they ever decided to come back and set the record straight, i don't really even particularly care what gender they are (this was part of the lie they had kept up or not, i will probably never know for sure)  but that's the thing about e-friends, i can afford a lot of lee way and forgiveness because the investment is minimal (on effort levels) and the attachments can be pretty intense.

now it took me a while to get over my weirdo baptism into the online world of social activity.  i have second and third guessed ppls genders i have wondered about motivations and all sorts of stuff only to decide its really irrelevant, if i like interacting with someone, its really doesn't mean a damn thing to me why they entertain me or why they seem to enjoy talking to me in return.

except when it does.

when i get past just being nice.

when i drop the facade and no i don't mean disclosure there are plenty of people who know plenty of things about me, i mean when i actually discuss feelings with someone, feelings about things i love, i hate, things that disturb me or make me insanely happy ... when i get past the BB persona to who i really am with my real name and sometimes even voice... that's when the other things, the things that i can forgive change. 

its my fault if i misinterpret a post or an intent.  its my fault if i have feelings and never state them about some event or another, in the cyber world you cannot expect someone to read your body language or your pauses and know you are upset, you can not expect someone to know when you write the word FRIEND that you don't do that a lot and that sometimes it brings tears to your eyes when you really mean it.  the people here don't see your lip quiver when they say things that hurt, they don't understand the way your hands shake when you are trying to say exactly the right thing to help them when they are trying to fix the broken things in their life.  they either do or don't read into things when they shouldn't and don't delve deep enough when they should...

i cant fix what is broken
i have no concept of whats needed
i can only miss what was
and mourn what might have been
and shoulder the blame of perceived wrongs

i will write more when my head is clear but for now im simply in awe that something id never take face to face can hurt me here of all places.  that i have been repeatedly treated like a sub human... and also a goddess.  that only here am i both every thing to some and nothing to those same people.

i just cant get my head around it today.

but i guess i can default back to the correct behaviour .... its part of the interface...

"I forgive you for hurting me because you probably dont even know you did it.  I wish you well, even if you don't return it."

there ...

thats

better.

GTA'S















http://z15.invisionfree.com/Galactica_B_S/index.php?act=idx

we want artists!  we need vidders! you people are the best....

Heart hammering, sweaty, fast breathing and a throbbing in my extremities indicates that a run, one I wasn’t particularly aware of has happened.  As the adrenaline fades slightly my vision clears to an uneven darkness with spots of lighter gray.

…

Annie get your gun…

I know that this cant be reality, surely this isn’t real?  He is smiling at me and I know I shouldn’t feel the strange mix of attraction and revulsion.  His dark hair falling in his eyes and his shifting gaze that of a nervous caged rat.  He looks like that actor from that movie with the big robot sent back to kill his mother to keep him from being born… yeah that’s the one.

He twitches yet again and the summer breeze blows my skirt too high.  He blushes fiercely and grabs it down for me, his fingers brushing skin that shouldn’t be mine.  And I realize this body is both a boon and a curse. The awkwardness I thought I left behind me years ago is back, but better than ever with its dainty blond frailty.

Whoever I am I am a fraction of who I remember being.

This body is weak and fragile, and absolutely gorgeous.  It may be a good thing but the odd color in the sky tells me that it can’t possibly be the case, still… I’ve never been blond before, not at this age, which appears to be about 12, If I remember anything about being that young at all.

I know he isn’t supposed to blush like that, he is supposed to be my brother I think, but it occurs to me he’s awful close to my age and I know he’s not my twin.  My inner meters of things are askew, but that’s not all that weird considering where I am.

...

You are dreaming…

Yes but you know the truth of these… there is reality strewn through…

You don’t need to worry about it this time you wont make it to the end of this one…

What does that mean?

...

“Jordan, why did daddy send you to get me?”

“Annie, you …know… he’s in a mood…”

His words, forced out in a trembling conspiracy laden hiss, cause the body I am in to seize up and stop walking.  Trembling starts deep inside and I know the taste of fear in my mouth, its metallic and horribly pungent.

Jordan, which I guess is his name stops and meets my eyes for the first time.  The me who knows better sees his fear, as he says bravely that he will make sure to try to help.

I don’t know exactly what he means, but my body seems to and the way his eyes slide down the front of my dress, I don’t quite trust him to do as he says.

…

“Get your ditzy ass in the kitchen, Annie…”

There is gravel and something even more grating in the voice, something that promises something invasive, but not surgical, something that tears at you in small patches instead of a spike of pain.  Again I think of rats, and gnawing.

As it turns out Annie, me, is 14 just scrawny.  I have three brothers whose faces cause nearly the same amount of dread as the bodiless voice issuing from the back bedroom of the small house.

There are three bedrooms, none of which are mine.

That is curious but I don’t think about too hard, it makes me shake and my head hurt.

I move into the kitchen, knowing where I’m going but detached like I am watching it from above somehow.  I move to the older model refrigerator and open it fishing out a beer from the musty interior, it starts sweating, or maybe I do as I walk down the hall to deliver it to the voice.

The shock of what “daddy” looks like causes the bottle to slip a bit and I have to force this mouth shut, to keep from gawking.  The man sitting at the computer is tall, probably no older than fifty years old, he is thick wavy dark hair (like Jordan’s) and it’s shot slightly through with gray, not much though.  His skin is a ruddy tan, obviously from working outside. He is wearing a filthy tank top, it  displays the intimidating muscles of a laborer.  From the side I can’t see the color of his eyes, they are reflecting the monitor of the computer in front of him.

The normality of his appearance shocks me because his voice invokes a fear in this body like I’ve not felt in a long time, and barely remember.

He doesn’t turn as I go to set the bottle down my curiosity wins out and I step closer than I mean to and the Annie in me winces but the battered fingers are busy on the keyboard and the grease smudges on the paper next to him show that he’s in the middle of something that has about three more items without smudges.  I move back, from his smell of sweat and oil hoping to make it back out without him speaking, because I can maintain this calm if he doesn’t talk.

I am to the doorframe before that changes.

“You didn’t take the cap off again girl…”

I stop, the sneer in his voice is disappointed and completely menacing and I find myself amazed that he speaks to me like this, doesn’t he know this body is 14 years old? His tone implies an intentional slight with adult motives.  I turn slowly, knowing it’s expected and sure enough he is facing me hands on his jean clad thighs, his heavy dark brows drawn together in a clouded expression.

His eyes are sky blue.

Solsbury hill

Climbing up on solsbury hill
I could see the city light
Wind was blowing, time stood still
Eagle flew out of the night

He was something to observe
Came in close, I heard a voice
Standing stretching every nerve
I had to listen had no choice

I did not believe the information
Just had to trust imagination
My heart was going boom boom, boom
Son, he said, grab your things, Ive come to take you home.

To keeping silence I resigned
My friends would think I was a nut
Turning water into wine
Open doors would soon be shut

So I went from day to day
Tho my life was in a rut
till I thought of what Id say
Which connection I should cut

I was feeling part of the scenery
I walked right out of the machinery
My heart was going boom boom boom
Hey, he said, grab your things, Ive come to take you home.
Yeah back home

When illusion spin her net
Im never where I want to be
And liberty she pirouette
When I think that I am free

Watched by empty silhouettes
Who close their eyes, but still can see
No one taught them etiquette
I will show another me

Today I dont need a replacement
Ill tell them what the smile on my face meant
My heart was going boom boom boom
Hey, I said, you can keep my things, theyve come to take me home.

...



i am still waiting... please come soon...

Open Your Eyes

All this feels strange and untrue
And I won't waste a minute without you
My bones ache, my skin feels cold
And I'm getting so tired and so old

The anger swells in my guts
And I won't feel these slices and cuts
I want so much to open your eyes
Cos I need you to look into mine

Tell me that you'll open your eyes

Get up, get out, get away from these liars
Cos they don't get your soul or your fire
Take my hand, knot your fingers through mine
And we'll walk from this dark room for the last time

Every minute from this minute now
We can do what we like anywhere
I want so much to open your eyes
Cos I need you to look into mine

Tell me that you'll open your eyes
All this feels strange and untrue
And I won't waste a minute without you

….

I’ve a bottle of wine
Way too much time
Yet never enough

These boxes we create for ourselves
Hold us because we let them

Don’t think I don’t understand
I do, better than most

…

You Could Be Happy

You could be happy and I won't know
But you weren't happy the day I watched you go

And all the things that I wished I had not said
Are played in loops 'till it's madness in my head

Is it too late to remind you how we were
But not our last days of silent screaming blur

Most of what I remember makes me sure
I should have stopped you from walking out the door

You could be happy, I hope you are
You made me happier than I'd been by far

Somehow everything I own smells of you
And for the tiniest moment it's all not true

Do the things that you always wanted to
Without me there to hold you back, don't think, just do

More than anything I want to see you, girl
Take a glorious bite out of the whole world

…

I’ve a big chunk of time
Half a bottle of wine
And everything seems too much

The boxes fall off the shelves
We use our hands to hold them

I don’t expect to ever be understood
But you do, better than most