this reads like a collage.

someone who doesn't know me well and has their own motives to say such things, said of me "she is just looking for love". which we all have a good joke about in the context it is intended...sweeping statements about sour girls who just need the right man and an apron and that picket fence house to box you in. am i meant to be looking for love? a comment not on women but this woman. put emotions in a locked cage throw them deep in the water hold them down don't look up- one day when i die i will virginia woolf rocks in my pockets (my father says, i remind him of her.)
history of the kerith proves obsession with love and relationships and misrepresentations of forever ideals and what prevails is a very cynical and sullen girl. with leftover fairyfloss weeping from arteries sticky, sugary and on the whole bad for you (with a funny texture and an analogy that's getting me nowhere...but with a lovely sense of whimsy no?) which means? creeping out of me from peculiar places laughter and lingering touch, a stare that lasts too long and leaves me shaken. what if i am not as strong as i believe? what if i am not as weak as i believe?
so have fun, carry on, cry at any chance you get, journey, evolve, never change.
be content with your contradiction. and when the ego gets too much to uphold dissolve and savour that familiar distain.

in one breath absolute fear feeling everything and knowing nothing but emotion somewhere weaving in to the hairs of my arm my cunt on end looking in to glass sharp and glistening you keep blades behind those eyes too you keep something monstrousbeautiful and i run full speed in bleeding from my eyes like some religious fanatic finding faith in all the odd places.

i took some odd step-ball-change to get here. i took lovers in my stride gripped them in fists with big stories i can repeat now with a laugh to linger. would i change it? would i change? hahaha why would anyone want to change you, she said, aimed to mold when the time was ripe. she liked me this way best. here's me free-form a well rounded Yes to any question, statement, pause. a Yes between breaths. i am not a person in pieces to be rearranged, i am a stream to take unexpected turns, waterfallsandfull of any journey of my desire.

a tribute to the cicada.

you wait
thirteen years,
seventeen years
wrapped up in dirt and blistered
of your own skin
lying in the dark
til time splinters
through with large eyes
wide feeding off sap
with your wood flesh shell
like eating yourself
singing a loud
proud song
of a nymph's refrain
singing for the next generation
singing because you can
because she likes you that way
because your voice brings voice
to those still burrowed in the dark.


(another insect obsession.)