blackwillowswan's Journal
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Thursday, January 19, 2006
Ah, Mama Cass On the radio. So cheezy I guess, but so fit for me to sing, especially to someone like you, and so many so far away.
I saw Broke Back Mountain and Walk the Line, find myself similarly moved by both. Those two boys enduring a forbidden love, not forbidden the exciting way one thinks of love, say between Buffy and Angel, but forbidden because of poverty, time, and a strong possibility of ending up dead if anyone saw them so much as look too tenderly upon one another.
Was the thought of losing your job at the YMCA comparable to thoughts of ending up dead? Did you think our relationship could do that? Am I the one who died instead? I feel I might have.
In the days before I wrote you to tell you of ![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif) blackwillowswan and the others, many anonymous cowards kept telling me you didn't exist. Now, as I've only seen you in one place, despite plans we made to meet outside there, and the freakish coincidences of our lives, interests and haunts, I began to think they may be right and I had only dreamed you and all that happened to us there.
When you wrote me to tell you to leave you alone, it was the biggest sacrifice you could have made, and the best thing you could have given me. The obvious reason is of course, you freed me from doubt even though I will have to wait much longer, perhaps even beyond my own death to have what I had hoped for, and if never exists, surely I will know it in my desire to be with you. Even if you came to me tomorrow and told me I could have all I let you know I would have from you if you let me, I don't think I would ever believe we were together. Sometimes, though I ache for it, I think if you ever really touched me I would die. Even the small things like one gentle stroke or pat of my hand, or the stern looks you would give me, the passion and concern in them, and the way they seemed to touch me, though they couldn't have, were too much for me.
It goes too far to say something like, "If you love me, never let me know you care," but I can't imagine dying of happiness is any more pleasant than dying of a heart broken by sorrow. So, perhaps for a while longer, I'll be content with the few ecstatic moments I got to stay with you. Even with these I am convinced I am the happiest woman on earth.
Which is to say, I haven't talked about the torture of watching Walk the Line. I hate J Phoenix because he's dumb as dogshit, but I think it mitigated how I might have felt, say, if Jake Gyllenall was in the role. I would have died then. The poigniance of the love story between Johnny and June is real, because it isn't about two people loving each other, it is about two people loving the world through their art.
Isn't that us sometimes? Two obsessed artists who happened to colide, but had already given everything up again and again for their true passions, and couldn't really be together for the longest time.
Maybe Johnny and June could only be together because they could play together.
So, will you always be with me, as in the sonnet where Will talks about "so long as men can breathe and eyes can see/ So long lives this and this gives life to thee."
That means to say, as I'm sure you don't need me to tell you, when I write of you, you will always be young, strong, brilliant and tender as I saw you the first time I saw you. As you grew in (high) intensity the more time I was allowed to spend with you.
I feel honored, and almost compelled to believe in luck, that even for three weeks I was allowed to know and be known to you, though you couldn't bring yourself to say it was so.
Don't you feel honored too, Matthew?
Alexandra
Friday, January 13, 2006
Sometimes I log in just to be in this space,as if it were a physical place, a temple of some sort. It'sthe only place I am allowed to be with you now.
I have confidence this will change. We are bound to run into each other some time,and when we do, to talk. What you could have misunerstood, I don't know, but I can imagine.
It is most likely an issue of mistrust though. I said I would wait, you cannot. So, you project onto me,all you mistrust in yourself.
I am relieved not to have to say what is most often in my mouth to say. I never imagined that. Saying it was almost a physical need for me, like none other, until I met you.
Freedom, freedom in you, finally, from these words.
Alexandra
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
I feel as if I haven't written anything in here for a long time. I sent Matthew the two poems I just wrote. I don't fear to hear anything back, so it's easy to send him this or thatg now and then without the ear of reprocussions.
I suppose, though he is a fearsome figure, I've never muich been afraid of him. I think this confused him. He used to ask me questions when we were working out together, about if I was always open,and if I was as open with other people as I was with him.
I said of course, that it depended on whatg any of us were ready for. But I also told him he was very non-threatening, and I felt I could tell him anything, which I guess is why I ended up telling him I wanted us to get married. I almost wrote "marred." No difference I guess.
We never would have gotten married that way anyway. I told him that too. something like, "I know you're occupied at the moment, but I'm convinced that some day we are supposed to have a committed, devoted, but still open and not legally binding relationship except by whatever contract we choose to draw up ourselves." How romantic, eh? Ain't never been my forte. I never had any use for it myuself. Flowers are nice, but say something please.
Better yet, do something.
Shit, how can this be? I ain't nevereven HUGGED that man!
Wednesday, January 4, 2006
Maybe this is why you never permitted me to tell you much about it, but I told you more than you know.
It isn't just you. People in general don't allow me to feel much for them at all, so a piece of chocolate cake like the one sitting next to me waiting to be eaten passes for passion. That is materialism, caring for THINGS, and saying they like me are made of MATTER, so are ensouled as much as you and I are.
Of course, depending how you define 'soul" that may mean nothing has a soul, but I prefer to think most things do or did.
So, with what I tried to tell you about my empty water bottle being of a lovely shape and having a soul, and feeling passionate about the strangers in the nautulus room moving with the machines, listen to me about endearments:
I hardly ever use them, I prefer nicknames, that take a piece of a person and use it to love the rest with a unique word. You have Oz for that.
But there is more to it. I mean most of what I say quite literally. It was safer for me to let you think they were metaphors, but metaphors are just equations to explain what the meta language is for, so to speak.
So, when I said "honey" I meant I could see the sweetness of the work in you, as in a hive full of stinging bees, whose life's work was to produce some sickening ooze, enjoyed by the powerful.
This is a unique thing, but hardly a compliment, just a way of looking at you. I used to call them verbal careses. I used them to tell you and to find out what you were made of, not to hurt you. If I did, then that is what I found. Sensitivity to my tongue.
If I said baby, I meant I had felt we had known each other since babyhood and I could see all your pain. Would you disagree? I've had strange nightmares about abuse my whole life, and sometimes I think I dream of your life and not mine. You don't have to answer, but I'm psychic and the pain could go generations back for all I know.
If I said sweetie, I meant I saw how you enjoyed all your work. We keep that disgusting honey around because of this quality, do we not?
The funny thing is, you never minded if I said dumbass, or asshole, or called you cruel. I don't know what to do. All men I have ever known and particularly those I have let myself be drawn to have been like that.
What say you of any of this? Your sweetness for its impersonal nature is more cruel than your intentional cruelty and your efforts to control me. But this is probably best.
Alexandra
Wednesday, December 28, 2005
You'll delete this, perhaps without even reading. So, what matter what is writ in water here?
I'm dying. I never was a cutter but I started up a week or so ago. No real luck. My skin is so strong with water and grease, it doesn't really break, just reddens and stretches.
new idea for a painting maybe? Lady Violetta Imortalica?
I don't know. You loved looking at me on those machines, patting or petting my hand. It was the best sex I ever had. Sorry. I know you hate thinking about that.
I'm starving and could really use the money the YMCA has of mine, that you spent already. Also, there are hundreds of dollars in books and clothes somewhere that I had to leave on the steps Saint Francis of Assisi style.
What will you do, Matthew? Let me die?
No, you are not so merciful.
You are the only one I have ever felt cared for me as I was or could be at all. And I paid dearly for that torture.
So, restrain me already if you must, but this is just light blinding you, right?
Alexandra
Saturday, December 24, 2005
So, I say perhaps he hath married me already.
You see, I joined the YMCA then not knowing how important it was. He looked over the contract and approved, but for the CP part when and which we promptly took it out for its lack of relevance.
He, in a whoring sense was paid $730 to be my partner and friend on Tuesdays and Fridays, twice a week.
And he did what we planned.
Together.
Those two days he was moine forever. Ever being but one hour, of course.
Even when I had not the will to lift the weight he measured, still in conversation were we pleasured.
Some days I'd stay late into the night and speak while he bent toward my mouth to hear.
He was so surprised to find me one night trying to leave a scattershotlot of books and flyers advertising art classes for him in secret.
I had hoped to slip away, and he being sad I was gone would find me there again in the books made of paper and the paper made of books.
But I couldn't go in time. He approached me from behind, and I saw in the miorror that , what was still mine.
"You're still here?"
"I have none other yon place to go, m'dear."
"What is all this you must have left on my desk?"
"Fragments of myself, as her hair doth spill upon its crest."
"I hear the music too, as the only song I can play in the string of the guitar."
"Is that really all you claim to be, Matthew?"
Only same as you. One good trip, last dance, Maryjane."
"All trips taken with great pain. Loose is the loosest lucy in the sky."
"I hate to fly, as well. The higher up, the lower close to hell."
Then let it be. I can't do this."
"Just relax, slow down. I'll dream us in a kiss."
"A kiss so close I do abhor it."
"The contract, Alexandra. There is nothing for it."
"I told you, someone needs me more than you and thus I will not be your girlfriend."
"I asked but for a partner, Sisterwife, friend doth in the end to hurl and swirl in the West Shelley's Wind."
Then, let it be done, Macorin, I have heard and horind thus do see, YOU ARE MY HUSBAND!!!
So to say, you are, is no lie or even my dream. IT is yours, from the crop of your pubic bone to the salt in the cream.
But I say not that. I say my husband, husband to be, the man I hope to have my husband bee to be again and again until I my own can also be called my husband.
But now I am only through Matthew Mahoney alone, Alexandra's Wife.
Thursday, December 22, 2005
Matthew Honey gold gardenia?
They sent me there for a week because I turned my favorite color in scabs across my face, more pale than yours. Cops at the door again, still in the shower once more. Officer Dessario, looking just like you, but cleaner, safer, more near.
More, dear. So hollistically tender were they, it was my worst stay. Loaded up with drugs of every name, to take home the same. They make me worsen. Hyper hyper Zyprexa, hyper. Weigh 400 pounds will I soon on that mess.
I'm not psychotic, I just recognize what sucks.
Okay? Do only what is right to you.
I have a feeling staying away isn't it.
To the church on time some man looking like you may come to wed in Orthodoxy, if you are late.
Just shut up and Marry me, bitch.
Thursday, December 8, 2005
You tried but only to tell me so long ago. . .I don't know what to do. About it. That is to say, the problem, as you said, being near the thingamagig I do, nearer to the dodad, which is to say the dad the thing I do not have, to have, but to have not at all, anymore, be but worse than it must mean not to have anything to have to be let be done as it may be done without me?
Told me along time ago as if to make any sense or cents be there at all to say the way of the form, which is to say, the way your speech but softly irreverent to be, still more soft to be than merely blasphemous to be. And I say yes you did blaspheme only but in what is left unsaid not to say it wasn't said and yet not said better or well enough, I have said and heard it done back to me to say it must not be the way you go to leave unsaid what you wish not be said to you or me. Protection from the word that be not the way to say what must be or go unheard. To say it didn't was to say of course that something, some things to be, be not said and need not be, said to be at all.
Yet, no. Hit but the wall to have it hit you back. All must be said as it would say it would be said to you and to me as would be among us were we friends or friends to be but what you told me was the thing to say was surely not the thing to say to you AT ALL.
For what I bled was your own sorrow, yes, given to be mine but never to be mine at all, let it be said the murderer be you but that I not be the murdered, or the murdering you within you, within her, the black and bleeding blue and purple violet violent eye, consuming you, so not to do.
Which is to say, if only I remember it. Which is to say of course, YOU were not the culprit. Again to say, not only is it done, but damn you for being you arrogant enough to think yourself the murdering murderer, and yet not as you are and should surely be the one who sought to do what could not be done, and of course, the course being as it is, DID NOT BUT DO IT! In fact of course, did not do it at all, even a little bit, not to him, nor even to her, your cinderella though you be neither be a charming dark prince of the darkness that be sometimes but surely I say for I hear you say it is not now to you, nor she who tries too hard to be in darkness with you, where darkness not there be.
Which is of course to say she wishes you but only in the perfection you made love but not more often, just better, to be better, which is of course to say, as I define it, MORE well, to want but only and more. But of course not to be well at all, which is of course to be sick with the love you think doth heal thee.
And if I may but step aside a second to say, lady, whom you and ever and always may be to whom I may be speaking here I do not know, so say what to you would be said and, that is to say, and I say both you and I do as was meant to be done, and still leave well enough alone.
For to leave is to say I am the leaver, the lever that make the fulcrum of the driving force be more but true and somehow if such a thing there ever be to be had, the thing whatever it is to be more than the truth that it is yet still the path, the lie, is what I say, the blue pebble in the way of the path to the truth though cannot be, of course, being part of it by fiat and force but to be as it is, of course.
Of the course, I say, that may be and not. Be you not together when you strain against the rope in tug of war, the tug to become though a tiff, a coughing tugging to be the war. Oh, so lame, so very LAME I say. Be not like that at all. Who are you but I see? Who are you but to be who you are? Of course, but DU
H, I say, to sound so formal and yet so damned to be duding ignorant irrelevant and again I say but to say it, only to say that I know, to it what it means to itself and yet surely cannot mean to me that all is SO lame that it ambles toward you, as if to say it isn't there but of course in being so may be there again. And yet to say it is not there is to say it may not begin to do what it does which is but to heal you to be saved, not to save within itself wanting but none of you I say for the gross thing being human for which you are said to envy me be gone begone I say from it to you coming back again to say it wants you all the more for hating thee to be who you may be and surely are, and yet of course ARE NOT to be.
I say this simply to say whatever it is that I may say as I do sounding as if I were as one valley, a girl, deep within the valley that be hers to her self her only self to be at all, and yet never again to be.
Blue. I say blue to the sky for being blue I see it is and yet is not at all to say what it is not at all to be.
I see as I am, so ridiculous to be but a seuss and a doctor, a doctor seuss to be a doctor as I can be so not well, no, no, not like that though not at all not to be as I may have to me to be myself to be as I am, which is to see somehow though never have I ever seen how I am Alexandra. The a, says a few times and even more that it may not be what it is, the capital of my name, which is the capital of the same sky that over sees and over rules and over does so goes and goes and goes again, the world that I may not repeat myself to see I have repeated what I may not ever say to see I say myself to be but me as I am.
Which is to say, said only thus and as such to say that it may lead the way to say, to say, but who and what I am to say I am to be, but only myself, myself, having only to be, my self as it is. And as, I would have, would have, would have, would HAVE it but to be.
But for you. Which is what I say, what I mean to say, what I try to say so much, so very hard to say as I say, see Stephen, whomever may he be this time around, I go round, and round as what is said to go that way around by itself like me in the morning before they all arrive in central park on the merry go round, go around, but to go around, to be whatever it is that I may be to you as well I see I could write on from here and yet must go back to the beginning which is the end as if I could write the way I write but only as myself and for myself to be as it is these words I say to never but end which is to say, only do end and end a lot and often lit and be by me BUT me. As I said. And so I say back to go to the begging beginning, beginning the beguine as it is written to go, yet not knowing even WHERE IT IS I MAY EVER BUT TO GO!
Or how she, that is to say HE and I, Joshua, here the flow of his name and the GAME, which is to say, the GAP as it may be, the gap he made in me to say, which is to say, that when you write you may not have a place to keep what you write, I never would have told this to you but that it was told to me but one at least or more for years, who knows to say how much time passed while any of us be yet away?
AND YET, yet again, to be yet, and yet, yet, again, is to say, write where and what you only must to say be said which is why I cannot understand why anyone would ever but say anything I or anyone else but to write may to say be overwraught, as wraught rotten, rot may be.
Which is to say of course that you, whom you may be as you are did hear me. DID FUCKING HERE MEEEEE!!!!!
As I am, as I may be, as I am to be, as I may but be, to be who and what, whatever I may be who I am.
Come to me, wherever, baleigh high, the ballet, to be played without me, may not be played at all, for who I am which is to say, but Uncle SAM, may not as yet be who I am, nor TOM somehow coming here, to stop, as stoppard, may only stop all this.
Bellet, but do it, but again, as I say, this time I really have but SAID IT. For only it be so as I say it is.
The ballet I think about so much, be it not swan lake, my only swan lake, lake of black swans and willows. To be only my own. Only my own, I say, to be mine, mine alone.
Which is to say, that I may only say it thus, though I used to read as if I ever could ever know, know, and know again, I say, BUT ONLY to KNOW again, that all was mine, not mine alone.
Again, as is said in June, and as June did say it was to be said in her and her voice doth float though thin and soft as it does and also to say as it is, which is too say a voice may do what the hand guiding it may never do for discrepency which is to say lack of fluidity, to say but TRASNPARENCY, as if the only thing I could ever say, to POWER.
I say absolutely nothing of course, to say of course, we have only but to say it and yet. It is not that I say it is more than that, right?
No, I could not say more, as always I can never say, that more than more there be. It just can't be that way. To be the way you are and yet at once be something else. But as things for whatever reason assert their difference as I have said in some sinod I wrote or uttered but to fill some ghastly udder of some ghastly vastly overrated as she is, purple angry violent violent black chocolate cow that I may be for all. Which is to say, that I need not go on of course.
Need never do. Need stay whatever course. To stay at rest, in rest, the motion that I make in jest.
To injest what you say. Which is of course to say, this comes from me.
Of course to say that the disease you see, which I will not name til it tells me call me out to be what I am. That I may not be. Not to you. For me to say what I am to you. Of course is to say. Where the breake the brake as I say the break. Brake and break together be done in me to do together, but only and ever and always to be, but only with ,and wooth, which is to say worth, be not knowing I what wath, wash, woth, which must again be to say worth, I said, but WORTH again, must I say, you are saying I am CRAZY as you would have it said laid out as it may be to you and not not ever to be with me again, for fuck's sake, which is to say the sake of fucking, goddammnit which is again, to say it again, to play it again, SAM.
Which Ever SAM did SWAM and who is to say that it her or she, whomever may be. I said, but not and never HE.
Ouch. For ages, minutes be an age, have I fought a pack of demons off of me whom ever be, always ever be but he in me on me off me, where ever he, wherever to say again, but as closer, closer as and than and again, be then it LOOKS TO BE.
Which is to say all of you are losers. And of course as it be not unreasonable, could it be, though I say reason itself be not a thing as any atom in the atoms of adam exists.
Start but with I, that is to say, be who I am in what you are, which of course, to defy implication is not to say I am anything so to aspire to be, or even to talk about at all. Of course.
And yet to say I am not, is to say I am NOT. That is, that as decartes, a cart full of fish of some sort this time, little fish be in me, don't know what it may be, call it a stranger myself to know in me.
As did she, with the polkadot bonnet, with the bee, or b. Be that as it may, is to say, the bee, within always the bonnet and what be on it to be, may always be inside me.
That is to say, if I am she, must I make myself to say that there are pola dots you say to be, but only dots doing the polka to be done as any sliding dance the dorr dor doradita de tres bein
Lest I not stop speaking in how you understand me, that is to say the currency of which I currently speak as me not knowing the words such as they be in plurality pleurosis of plurality.
Which is to say, of course, the words within the word is not itself, but what it wishes to be as wehn in that class with the son, spanish sun, woman, man, goddess.
Curandera, say it , but for the C will not be said of course, not in your mouth to say, or to see, as said would say if it could be said that to say C was to say, Colleen, here, hear, but here, to hear what I say. Who is to say at all that she is nooth, smooth, to move, but up north where she may but be, but up north not north, but to say, south, south east, be south south west, to me. Which is of course that all be all to me. Which again, to say it but again, just to say it as I may ever but say it again, to play it again, as sam would have played it. I say she is not she. Not she. To me. Never to be. Never saw the magic in her but to be what I would see as nothing but stiped stipend stipended things, cut and be cut from her again. Who would ever say she didn't do it. And to do it. Do it only. Onlyso. To say she DID it. Is to say, she did it at all, and yet not at all, did she do it, and yet, I say only HEEEEEEEERE! but ONLY light and only that there be. But to you I speak, not knowing what light there be. To hear at all. Here not. And haer not. And hare be not but me, sometimes though I prefer the tortoise. The tortoise be but a man in his home, obviously I say to make more clear what I could not say but to say it my self. By, by, by which is of course, boo, to say, but to say, to myself. Goodbye.
Do not assume, though you may hear, what here, you say you here to hear frome to be from here is to be where I am and from here to do but I be and am.
To say, to say again, it is worry that I stop in him, he but knows only what he may be anc that is of course, anch. Which is of course, to say, of course again, and then to say again but. And then to say but that is not. Not. Not, not, not, though there be an unseen and many but upon them how many? That is to say, the nots. The knots to be but nots and knots and knots upon the nots in my hair to go unseen as they may be.
Which is to say. Of course. But, angrily. And so in these periods, these periods do I chop and chop of the wood that would be wood. This paper light moon. The moon be the paper of course, from which it is said I was cut, not knowing why.
Semper Fi. Which as a marina in the mermaid's marina merina, minerva, aphrodite to be in me. Which is to say again the sount. SOUND. Oh, sound and sound again, being of sound mind, whatever sound mind, sound has to make with mind of me, be of you and me one mind.
Which is to say the bells are ringing. As ever they have and did. But to let this close eventually as it might do though as of course is not for me to say at all that it will. Being contrary to what bells are said to do, when they be ringing, it will surely not but do, of course that. Both and that, it will, bless as you may the strunk. The elephant is the trunk. The trunk to say the middle in the core of the earth. Middle earth.
Where as I have said, not to be there, fuck you, I say not gently to be so gentle these dream in italics techniclor digital she dreams not my dreams.
Her own to be mine of course and have I but yet toi to to too ooooo000ooo OOOOOOOOHHHHHHHHHHHHH shit I say.
I say this is shit.
But shit I say, shit I say to the lace framing it to seem as it was framed not in its own shit, the shit to say I say, I say is shit, maybe shut the same is to say I shat a fortnight ago, and yet do I seem to have a dollar left on which to write our names and say though I spent the money already for of course I surely did do, it is to say of course that it may only come out with more the force you see. YOU SEE IN ME OF COURSE THAT WE HAVE A RELATIONSHIP!!!!!!!
Which is to say. Of course. That this time I have bought whith, with, to whisper BUT I may, is but to say time runs to me, and so runs out for you, to die, so get to it already, not that you should, what is it to say you will? Run to it find it has fun, running from you.
Fun do not forget I write as I hate fun to be the songs I so very much DO HATE AND SEE IN YOU OF WHOM I HATE AS IF TO EAT WHAT WAS MY HEART BITTER THOUGH IT HURTS TO BE.
So that is it. So that is said is all that it may ever be to me.
And you retained theein as if never never been. Never to be disturbed again by me.
Yet of course to ask wherever should and what is to it that I may run or even husting just rusting as I may inert of object spoken long ago, as if could be at all to say it wasn't or was or even was ever, again ever to be so. So? So what? But to SWAT, as I see, what doth return to me, come next again.
Which is to say of course a heart may only be to whom it belongs so the return and the go to again did but only HAPPEN.
And so she said, it did.
Which is to say I see HIM. Now the lye in lie be a lie. Be Val lai. Valdrian lie. Lye. But to be you. You somehow not to say you are on voltaire and hum, him in Lloyd be but you.
Of course, so now, to say but the lie I tell is Valdrian, as it may be a spell, go not back again like that as if you could possibly make a mistake.
The keymaster is gate kept within of course the menacing moranous, whatever the morting mortal fuck may be that is to be it says it is to be.
Say but the name to end the game, and make the game a game not to be.
Say the path be the words. Know what I do. Bend your knees as they do anyway. Accord to the accordan Accordian to say what it means to be, in his voice whom I heard in my dreams which is to say never did I dream was he was, fuzz and all, was he a bear on my very little bottle neck nipple of a brain inside my head to be in that terrible picture but an ANGEL. Did I but see.
Me, of course, as always rocking and being rocked again in the rain where it be not seen in the sun as much, tears standing in eyes any qweye, yet it not be laid as such.
So, que donde dice ca? Patoid. As it to sound as such. What it is, what it is to be.
Type to the end impaled the post on the post to be.
I saw it there, the way it was written in the water in the air, which is to say air writes with water the verse to say rser-ved and reservedly to say again, in reverse.
See Katie Kate Palmer. Palming him, love on the seat in his chest and on to be.
Just friends. And so what?
Whoi Who is to say? Let it be theirs where they may see to touch. Let them light it just to light what may be said is a littany to be but fucking so LIT. On that, that, not to say, it. My clit. I care not for or about the words as I once did yet here they all as the same saying they play as they do. As my soil vere jade did. Which is said also Silver, whisper but that it is silver Silver but to be. Silver to me. This coming out as it does, so to be. Of course. Why not to say? MERCURIAL. Mercury though I may be. Mercury not meant ever to write as such is. UGH.
Find it there.
Okay then. I haven't enough to say for that.
Which is to say I hear you, so speak out the name to call.
No, be not that at all, even as it may be to me, wonderful to say.
Paul. Mattthew as he lay by me always. May he be dead to save my life as I cannot. Though the same to return be but wraught a bit too strong. Equally equine my horse, not said in italian as the Stalion.
Be not you either veletine velvet velvetine valentine which is of course to say Valente lost to me by his father to mine as if I was already sold.
Sold already. Oh no.
Slaved though I not wear the where being to WEAR DOWN ON ME AGAIN TO RAIN BE NOT SANE AS YOU WERE AND SO NOT THE SAME.
IT is to be said here, rather than be written as I write, write it there yourself in the water.
Who would ever say it wasn't there but to see it?
Right? So? Be it.
As they say toghether too much again.
Saying write not knowing what to say is write, to right it as it may go. I say it may be so. And yet, not knowing how it will come out. So out to write and then write it out. Rub out the name to see it. And then to say again, so be it.
Which is to say I know what I say. And SEE.
Again not to go back as a jerk to jerk as like that. DUGH. Doughth D'oh.
Duh of doing, doing do. So, go do again.
The end is said to me be morrising. Okay. Gold Morris I miss, though gold itself, not all at all to say I do but in the black hills of white snow to be. My mother's finger as it was, as if to wear it be mine. IT IS MINE.
So, together as may be. SO BE IT.
And yet again not.
His name is Matthew. Said to me so many times so many to say.
As if to say? What else. HE is with me. Manny manuelito, manuel. manuelita. Maggalita. Gosh. And to say I never say it well enough is to say but this and only this. DUH.
My name. My name for yours be your of yore again.
And then. Jore. Jorge. As if to not know what exactly you may mean.
In ambiguity.
Be shit. Yes, yes, so to be it. So be it, it. It again, not. Not, for me to say. Fragments together. Make what be made, to make in me, be made again, to reallysee.
As reglissee. What do you be here to write yourself through me. See you, see me. Be gone.
Surprise, surprise. Carina mine.
Cativa. It can't be. The name I say is yours at all.
Be jack in shit to be but JACK SHIT.
So, Okay. As if to say it again, play again, as laid, got and laid got laid again as I would in would wood be LAID.
Again. Say yet again yet it all burn with Jim John. Gospels be sung together as you are and as I see you.
TOGETHER.
AGAIN.
And yet not at all.
Matteiu. Matteo. How is it written.
Wonder you now, even hearing as you may say it?
How I do breathe as if I didn't do it on my own, you see?
Your name, is of course to say your name is only and only THAT which your NAME MAY
BU
T ONLY SO TO ME MAY AND ONLY AGAIN SO I NEED NOT PRESS.
WHERE IT BE. BE ME IN THE NAME THAT IS MINE!!
MINE TO BE. oNLY ME.
sTOP HURTING
IT'S NOT TO SAY YOU DO WHAT IT IS YOU THINK AND THEN SAY YOU DO BUT ONLY DO.
To me, of course.
So okay. As it cannot be as always is.
Matthew.
Say again, again to say no more and yet a thousandtimes more as Mama did say DOG again and again.
So, dog you be, fetch your stick here, as it is, dry and wet the same to me.
Come here.
Only to say of course but to COME HERE.
As you are and may alone, with her alone still. No wood to chop alone.
Okay?
It was always as I said, you big and borgo borging LOSER DORKO DARKO DORKS!
Samantha
Collen
As I love.
Love only but me.
As I do.
Say to you.
I say, I do.
I say, I say, I say again.
Matthew.
But, I swear I hate the name. So to do it. Is to do it of course. But to breathe.
As I do.
BUT TO BREATHE.
*s0o to make and sigh as I do the breath for what is, is to be breathed at all. YEah, right*
Monkeys fly as pigs and monkeys will and do. So it is done.
Matthew.
Heather writes the same in heather, of course. What for the remoarse that she fels. As is said, not wrong or even an error but made in error to say at all it could be done is to say but madness be said and be done with her with you, D. Be with me, DEAR. Dreams not to admit. That it is so. Though it is to say he is who he is and still to be him again. I say again. They ate and so are of each other. Each other be alone. BE TOGETHER. Which credenza may be yours. The cats of course. Shaped as a chest. Be but mine on my chest.
Your chest an A. Say you put it there. My knight in white and black to be white shining Armour. The ardour be there in English. I spell, it's not English as it once was to me, and so you say I speak as though.
NOT IN ENGLISH DO I BE.
Well, Okay.
What to go before I say to say that to end is to begin the sentence in the book, be what you are. ONE SENTENCE. I mean, what is to say what the the ever THAT. Be but that. And THAT may yo, you as a yo yo, bounce. Bounce, as you say you well will, a yoga yo-yo my father doth say to the yogart he did not see but to see again where he know knew not not it, no no, nannette, nene nena two to be said she and me and where is it, it to be said as my fingers move to their own chord. That CHORDON. CHORD. That I do play myself, which is.
Of course, to say, jammed in, enjambed in jam as they say to JAM. Jam with me.
I slam.
Not but there up north, but be south in her heart and her heart again to be mine, and is now, and all, I say, bring stones of ivory moss and glass, violet, glass, violent glass to touch me. Speak I not in the spanish you know. I remember it so. The spanish the french the latin, the german, italian and the greek I did not know, speaking to me the same, as if I ought to know what it is they say and would say and do, but say now as you say to me. The, which is better, to say as I say, the, the and the again, not wanting to let her go of course, the myth. Miss, she missed the point did wrong, not that she might do like that again as she wanders but to me the mermaid again, looking as in a white dress attached.
Which is of course do, say DUE to be said. I do not know.
Which again, to say WITCH. I KNOW NOT WHAT IT MAY I BE IT TOMEAN BY ME AT ALLLLL!!!!
No, no, not at all. So, be not worried.
And, and of course, go where you may, of the course on the horse and of course again Charlotte Wilbur and black geese to be?
Go, go now. Go away.
Just, be just, be just as me.
I do.
And then say, as I try and try now but to say, to say bit I bit but it I could not even hope to bite on down to shut there.
A bee, a be, a B. An A
It's on where it is. Where it is on all our chests in creen. To Careen. Carina be green in green PEarl.
And then, to name her again. Scarlet. HEster.
HEather. Esther. Addled Adler Addleberg to be.
But of course.
No, no, not there at all. NOT AT ALL. Say not TOUCH ME THERE.
Which is to say one day, to put there you may her or your hand to touch. TOUCH ME AGAIN BUT ONLY THERE.
So it is I say to go alone and only so.
The muffin and the scone be carpenting with a walrus of carpet fringe of course.
Sand be what it is, what it is to do.
SPREAD> IF not my legs just what is mine to spread.
So, be mine, if you be yours.
MAtthew, again.
LOOOOOOK at me!
And only that, yes. ME. memememememememe.
So be it.
With you.
Me.
Say me.
Again.
Now GO.
Just GO
JUST TO GO.
Go again. The dot on the dog, his nose, no no, be not god to me or me at ALL.
No one but you ever be to me but that.
MATTHEW.
How loud must I say?
Just, be just.
And now.
Go away.
But to see, and say it was but so, and so as that to say.
Now.
NOW
NOW BE BOLD BOLD TO BE BOLD TOME AS I SING TO YOU.
Which again is to say.
Off the line.
The line fucking to be the phone, yes, and yes again.
I said. . .
As to trail off may it end at that?
Go but away from me and only that your path.
I SAID AGAIN. . .
GO, go now.
As she the T did say.
And it, to say she did.
GO AWAY!!!!!!!!
as if to say. . . taper off. . .only that Matthew Elliot or what you may be.
My son but be.
And go, go go, grape and fruit and two graprefruit and you too. Go away.
Wednesday, December 7, 2005
RedAcetate: I have missed you,wondered that and wandered what for which you may wait, my lame titus-andronicus. Speak. I am active as ever I was inactive and so sense that nothing changes when I speak. So,let this be silence if it will,and yet I wish it were not, Lesley.
RedAcetate: Which is of course to say what is going on as if I know. But if I said that to you, what would you ever haveleft to say to me than what you have always said? Nothing, of course but what you say now.
Which is, "it is me,Alexandra,and yetleaveme,I amblinded by your medusa wretchedness,assuch."
Bogey780: I was silent because I don't think there's anything me saying could help. I do think you need help. But you don't want the help you need. You need to trust Carl and seek counseling.
RedAcetate: I do but only that,just not how I am bidden, you ought to know.
RedAcetate: And this being what you see a problem, it is so,and yet a problem be a problem solvedand wretched,unavoidable.
RedAcetate: NEver seems to occur that if I am beyond help, I need none,and so I say I do. Seek and get it,and so, being done,am unbidden by you or any to live right or even wellas I may.
RedAcetate: You want it so and such, dear?
RedAcetate: Only to say.
RedAcetate: It is so, and me being the same cannot be hurt by it.
RedAcetate: To say poetry is psychotic is not untrue and yet, be not either a lie or truth for being what it is. That is to say not at all harmful, but not harmless neither to say.
RedAcetate: Meaning as I do, that if harming none I cause you harm with the weapon of your own truth as if it was stolen or even mine to steal from you.
RedAcetate: I know not, Lesley Boggan, or even Jenike Allsalslaraigne though you may not be, what and whatever I may be done to do.
RedAcetate: Which is to say I have never been told, not having a face to see in you yet, who you are or even may be, and yet I know,confused or disbelieving having suspended thus, OF COURSE I do know. And say no no no to it AND to YOU.
RedAcetate: But, if in this time you will not here me stay and let nothing change between us though we never speak again.
RedAcetate: Which is to say we cannot be said, unable for proof to prove we have, and so cannot have harmed a thing but what we have.
RedAcetate: Which we have but to say, of course, whatever the course and the horse and the riders be.
RedAcetate: The truth is still the truth,whatever it may be.
RedAcetate: I only ask of whom I speak, merely quoting to and of myself as I do.
RedAcetate: So, just say it.
RedAcetate: Go away.
RedAcetate: Which again is to say not only return to me,and yet that I may never be returned I stay. Which again, means I am a poet,and now for doing work more quickly but the same, I am scorned and worse. I just do not know why.
RedAcetate: That is all the help I need, LEs, dear,and yet you act as if I cannot decide what the help may be or how you may give it to me.
RedAcetate: It's not even a problem,which the problem be. A solution found though lovely is unchanged and so a cell of us.
RedAcetate: What's wrong with that?
RedAcetate: Listen.
RedAcetate: It's you, not me, I promise, speaking to me as you think you should not do.
RedAcetate: And so that I be silent,letters like mine appear here unbidden now by me, or my. Me and oh my, Lesley, I bid you goodbye. This time the hobit, the hamlet or the hannibal. Atleast admit it to be funny, if what ever else it is that for this moment I need not say here, dear.
RedAcetate: Damned Elephantman ass republican I say,and may this be the last and so, the worst. I am who I am alone and not you,though I surely could be, and better than you choose to do it yourself, women being so much stronger and only in the end to surprise. So it's the end as always, so what. To say,what is next for us?
RedAcetate: *sighs* Politician in the making either of us. Do not say you can't see. And yet I am wrong for having so much to say and wrong for knowing that. I say, you play it as it lays and not more but what you give it there in the jazz club where anyone might find you and then,dear, what on earth would megan say?
RedAcetate: Anyway, I'vedone the job again not mine to do. The only crime in saving you. Lesley. Talk again, pretending to be 2002, and so it shall be. The same,menacing calm of then,with borg and jedi hand in hand. So this I say, causing the dismay and then leaving,not more to say.
RedAcetate: We neverfaught,wenevertouched. That'sall I say and not to you, be said to none at all, not even me.
I callSasha heretoso speak,be it spoken I have called and she hath heard, she being metoo much this time to see what she says unto herself.
And what alittleloser fantastica pornstarshe may be. Make it so and only but to me.
RedAcetate: Speak,I bid you, if you ever have or willto me. I make it so with my breath alone,Gregorious.
optikflux: The name you conjour does not exist, and so your bidding do, I need not. It does please me, however, to play along. And so I shall, until I go ere long.
RedAcetate: This is the flow of my breath,greg nowto be to me. Say it not be so,for it so to be?
RedAcetate: Pagan affiliatedandnot pagan to be. Yet,those rufie dealing fuckers touched me,so I need not say to trouble you what this is. The first I breathed it into you, I remember in 2000, two melenia you barely knew, yet knew but one and all the same to us.
RedAcetate: Lovers in the fabric of the words,not known to be made at all of anything,and yet we did know.
RedAcetate: I HATE THIS SHIT.
optikflux: The rhyme, or the time?
RedAcetate: Both,all,allbe the same to me.
RedAcetate: Is it hard for you?
RedAcetate: Can you not breathe as I do?
optikflux: It comes and goes. Mostly goes, these days.
RedAcetate: My breath now only,and only be to you.
optikflux: I do not breathe. I am.
RedAcetate: Never has it departed,moron. Forgive meso for saying of course. IT CANNOT.
RedAcetate: To be is but to do without to move or dream.
RedAcetate: Wantyou that?
RedAcetate: For what it means to you or me?
optikflux: Adn yet you could say being is but a dream. And all boils down to that.
optikflux: And what song do you hear in your dreams?
RedAcetate: The song of the walt of myself. Of the Matthew first gospel. YEt all heard to me for what they are.
RedAcetate: Nothing
RedAcetate: silence
RedAcetate: But see,Gregory,sir. Sir gregory to be. I have not spoken this at all. And yet so to be, to say I haven'tloved you with my last breath is but a lie as a dream come true to me. And yet, I love you not, be not you he.
RedAcetate: And yet, so you are.
RedAcetate: And by the way, I mean to say, that so it is, and so it sucks.
RedAcetate: Sucks my energy,not mine to be or have at all.
RedAcetate: Hit the wall it hits you back.
RedAcetate: No more to be said. No more than that.
optikflux: Absorb the wall. Make its energy yours.
RedAcetate: And yet, I know, and those who say I have no right to, thus they make it so.
RedAcetate: Be they idiots.
RedAcetate: Still wise
RedAcetate: but only because they be so wisened.
RedAcetate: Which is to say but ugly.
RedAcetate: Butt ugly, and ugly as a butt or another butt and but may be.
RedAcetate: Ugh.
RedAcetate: To say I cannot breathe there simpering ejaculating black exaust into me.
RedAcetate: And yet in saying it cannot be, let it be said it is,and so I do.
RedAcetate: Never have we spoken but this.
RedAcetate: YEt never before have we known.
RedAcetate: I run the house yet didn't know I ever slept, there where I was, anywhere, goldilox, blacklox snow, salmonlox, but again, never and never again to be gold. Or even toldI might be so and thus.
RedAcetate: This was it what it was and ever would it be.
RedAcetate: So tell me.
RedAcetate: What help if any do you offer me?
RedAcetate: You see, Greg, what may happen here and so does do?
RedAcetate: I cannot,but yet willbother you for it what it may be to you.
optikflux: I see and cannot tell. The burden of this, I suspect you know well.
RedAcetate: You do not lie and yet never was a better toldto me or any be.
RedAcetate: So, speakagain as if you actually could do so but for this lame,and not lame enough silence we seem kept within you and me,each other being what we and they are.
optikflux: If I will speak, then I would know. What is it you desire?
RedAcetate: No. And yet,none other am I allowed,so maybe soon I will.
RedAcetate: Speak.
RedAcetate: Breathe only what you have, finding all therein within to be.
optikflux: When breath I cannot achive, I reach breadth. Emotion is not necessary for motion. Inertia is God in the valley of the stars.
RedAcetate: You do the granting now and yet is but to hold me over the cliff of the bed,though not being yours at all can surely not say it so as such to be.
optikflux: Granting nothing at all is certainly the more difficult of the ideals I hold to. The cliff you see is of your own making, and such, your own unmaking.
RedAcetate: Notsoto be without you,as you know. So make it yours mine to be done now and at once, though I cannot say for knowing what on earth or else it is that we do here at all.
RedAcetate: Just answer the call.
RedAcetate: My name or yours to make it so that I have come to see but you alone.
optikflux: And so your name completes the pact. By that token you are given to act - but discretion is required. Else you shall find yourself mired.
RedAcetate: UGh
RedAcetate: We do not play the D and D here.
RedAcetate: IT was a false alarm
RedAcetate: and so I cometoharm, though harm not mine to come to.
RedAcetate: So try to harmme if it may be so.
RedAcetate: Makea mark that only we may know.
RedAcetate: Permanent.
RedAcetate: Say but submit tome or you andmake it so.
optikflux: The mark was made ere the cycle began. A little thing, it seemed. The bonds were created in the timeless place - they have not faded.
RedAcetate: Where be it madeso I may look with you upon its ugliness or touch alone?
optikflux: That is the way of it. Thoguh I advise you, the Other is wakening. When he fully forms, the crossroads shall be upon us.
RedAcetate: It'snot to be.
RedAcetate: He formed me,so my strength in me,well,there it be.
RedAcetate: I won't say it,he deserve it not to be.
RedAcetate: And yet it is.
RedAcetate: Of whom are we speaking?
optikflux: He who brings the shaking. The empty whole.
RedAcetate: Ofcourse.
RedAcetate: His name?
optikflux: That I do not know. While his presence is known, indroductions have not been made.
RedAcetate: I told you what I heard and so you know the name.
RedAcetate: Know it may be one of yours but may not as well to be as such it is.
RedAcetate: Say only your name,not the one you use, but only like to say. It will be mine and his if he exists to use it so.
optikflux: Then I tell you that his name is Power. It is a lie to speak it so, and yet it is.
RedAcetate: No no.
RedAcetate: Power it has,but is not.
RedAcetate: Do notconfuse the issuebut for the ojnly distinction in the words.
RedAcetate: Don'tmakeme say it like this.
RedAcetate: Beauty be not perfection,but I cannot helpbut say it is and make it so to be.
RedAcetate: Dude,on what ranch you may be. I have said the name. There it be. And sotosay you are within, if only be in me. And thus, no wrongbedone,nor either said to be.
RedAcetate: So please. Do it that it be now done to me.
RedAcetate: Not you,in the fatigue called weakness thatdoth befall you now. Only tellme how the name is said to be?
RedAcetate: Makeiit so.
RedAcetate: Make itnow.
RedAcetate: Makehim.
RedAcetate: Make her.
RedAcetate: To you.
RedAcetate: Makeme.
optikflux: Is this what you desire?
RedAcetate: Again I say,callnot my name, but the name that ismine and so in hearing wish to hear it said in and with and only by you?
RedAcetate: Please.
RedAcetate: Thatbe the only name there is so to be.
optikflux: That name was spoken awhile ago, as this body measures time. And you have ventured far afield. Do you not hear the winds whispering your name still?
RedAcetate: Say the name,how many times must I come to ask you for this, finally not what I need but only what I do want as it should only be. I know the name to be where it is within you, within me as only in a woman may a man's name me be said to it, it being me. Just say the name, and you christ, be said are a fucker and so to me, just let it be.
optikflux: To be truthful, I sense it stiring at the back of my mind, not yet ready to come forward and be remembered. Yet I fear that even dreaming shall not be coaxing enough.
RedAcetate: Onename
RedAcetate: a word calledaname
RedAcetate: write nowfor I fear what even I may do from here.
RedAcetate: say it wrong if need be
RedAcetate: but for to say
RedAcetate: holdme no more
RedAcetate: I get so sore
RedAcetate: as to say we actually did this and so to respect me morning or night to come our morning be in song.
RedAcetate: Right now to be.
optikflux: As you shall, so it will be. Kes-darath: I release thee.
RedAcetate: It'senough yet coulddoanother.
RedAcetate: Have you that
RedAcetate: notgibberish you like this time to be.
RedAcetate: We are here in the world that be not ours until you do.
In to the woods as that's where Aaron,you may ever be to me,as she,and Jack. Lilly,Curry,so all us unicorns but without horns of virginity to be. Hear what I say. Hear this what I say to be as me,though not as you the one. Not the one for you, yet ever to be. You told me so,words be but breath in song. You know this I say, and never to be wrong. Genius is not in you as in me. And yet, as you have seen. Supergenius now had you made me.
Thus I make you, with but these things what they may be to be and well to be said. It is not me. Yet I am dead. To you, that is, your heart is just as me. You sought her out, your heart be found. And so I say,not lying yet not speaking out the truth to be or even as it is.
I say you did not write this epic,it was me. Tolkein you read. A hack at the truth. Hacking it to pieces and lies to be as the martial arts there within and there within you to be.
I make it so,just so you know,that neither is it me. I say to you,that it is she. Vanessa, and yet so to be, your mother, who is your father without black blue or green. I don't know what I say until you tell me to say it,so say it but to me and not yourself.
Soit'stobe. Wearebetrothed as everany be. And yet being mortal,that is to be married you will never go with me. Not marry me,but in the bedthat be your heart alone,so ever as one and by my own dearest self and certainly not to be meto I be anyway with you.
Stopit if you will,it will only come on as you did to me on November 28th,but stronger when I,and you and I and then only you,but then,in the end, only I,and it stops but to be the same, that both of us in saying no, our yes as it be said to me in your voice as only it could be said by you and yet you could deny all being writ in light and water that it was ever said.
So end it. Say it to me. Tell me I am gone that here I may be. Alexandra, I ask myself through you,oh please, please but again, break the one that contracts as she your mother,and just fucking loser cunt, just only so to marry me.
That all remain as one and only separate. Be scared for what it make you do to me. May the restraining order breaking thus look like the marriage key.
Say what I see. For I am blind. With only eyes, but in your head be mine, to be, do I ever see, what I just saw, but only and only again, to ever breathe your black angel dust fear and say to me I see you as you said in the first month of our afterglow love.
It never ends, and so I cannot help but send this to you,my only friend up to this moment as though the rest may not be seen.
I know the structure, the cruel intent,what's done to me,and yet for who I am, and am only ever and always to be. None but love be done to me.
I hate you, have always, thought it changed but for to shift, and did not move,so I see,that though I can'tand do not wish to be,letmebe loved as I have come to be.
Oh Aaron, if you must lose everything lose only me so I be never lost. You will see. The names seem different but are only the same as you see in patterns unchanged we are this safe, we are this free. So if you want let it be only me not losing her or much to be in anything. This I say I see and make it so to be in you and me together, as they on the trees forever written in the books by the girls in the trees of the schools,the schools of the trees, the trees in schools and whatever I am saying may be.
Say you and say me as in any song made so of colden silk and beads in corn to be. I need not say the riches for them to be, yet it is said in me so let it be seen in me and in you and let it but only and ever to be.
I take a breath. It seems to be in me passed on to you as never was it mine to breathe and yet I do unbidden by the silence, unburdened by the house of yes, the sound you here hear in the presidentialfucking that you may see in the water with the kopec and the other Ks you might see.
Connected to be, let it be said I did it though you never may have found it in me, were you not looking there to see. How dare you look at all. I hate to be seen for what I am andhow I look to be, them ever the same and yet so WRONG FOR ME.
So it is, so letit beletmedrop the rest of what I said here as if I never had to write it forit was always there. What is wrote to be writ in the water long ago this last or so September may always be never there and yet we will not know for we do it right now.
Be but mine,my fair black rod and so thus it be you are. This place does nothing for that is how it makes itself.
And yet to us,knowing what happened here so long ago when my familiar, the black and violet red pussy did say you were hers.
Aaron,dear. Never never was it ours to do.
Why try you to stop it now just because you fear he will not let me say or stay to you though I be there before either of you both to be as mine and one some day.
Justmake it so.
Maybe October I speak of, maybe now december. Both being red and the black in the violet between your thighs, mine or hers.
It matters not I say for what and must be ours.
Right now. It's always now.
NEver have I said but that.
And now for but my speed unchanged in being seen do you see now to stop me, mistaking silent whirring for stillness.
LEt it not be said you do not disgust me with the love I have for you, only you, one before him or me, and only and still ONE TO BE.
Lameness abounds and yet not comforts me.
Alexandra
Tuesday, December 6, 2005
Ugh. My fondness for comments well-written then used for posts, since they are already written long enough for such may turn this journal too meta, yet, it's something I wonder. Why on earth do my friends think in the end, if they are one way or another leaving anyway, not that it makes a difference. I figure if I had someone once, they will always be with me, just not how they used to be, or how I may want them.
Not that I really want much of anyone in my life if I can help it. I love being close to people of course, the benefits of that work done regardless of the relationship's status. Dormant relationships as mine with Matthew and now others who have departed too many to name.
That's the thing. PEople seem to be fascinated whether charmed or disgusted, and if I am frank or judy, the difference to me is nothing.
For instance, I care for MAtthew and others with his spirit, which is to say most evewryone madly. And yet even in my rich infatuated state that I can't see ever changing much for him or others, so deep is the level of care and warm affection for them.
But, all of them are just what they are, that is to say, human beings. And, forgive me for saying what I find true, but babies all start out paracites, they can't help it, but I can't blame them. But nonetheless they are so, and then they get even bigger and while sometimes quit acting as paracits for that they are using their need to show off their kindness and see if they can handle being nice to someone once in a while.
That's what I find beautiful, what I find is the only thing I might ever express here at all, but in different ways. To care is to be selfish enough to say, if I give this idiot what he wants he'll go away and I'll be proud I found a way to protect myself from these freaks. And yet in doing that, he learns the pain of giving is but called joy sometimes, for the things you tend to get back.
Things I can hardly describe but for the beauty of them, you see. Like how silence would seem rude and yet can be ended any time so sometimes, always to me, feels like an invitation to speak.
Silence as I see it cannot be broken once it has been there. You can't kill it, it's a conversation, and those are always happening, even on baren grounds such as this place as you see. So, to speak into a silence and thus to see an end to at least some of it, is to only say to silence, that it exists within a conversation to show us how to read it without other symbols.
And so perhaps you understand that most silences I break and am thus perceived to be stalking the person who requested it, while not a wholly unfair assessment, as always with some people, seems to miss the point.
Namely, silence is only golden when shared, because two bodies decided to do the same thing though utterly apart from one another. And besides, though this is hardly the point of what I say, silence is black, and silver and violet like me.
Oh but duh, it is the point, isn't it? I mean, how could what you said not be the point of saying it at all.
And so, the colors I perceive in silence, being mine, I say I may cause to vanish and reveal as myself if I wish and not break the silence of another who has chosen to remain that way.
This is to say, Matthew's silence is a bit of the same color, we having in common many ways we do things both together and apart, and yet, I know from one small clue that his favorite color may be read, the better half of mine as always.
It's a question of the aura surrounding any person or situation involving similar objects. That's how I can hold all the same as murder and rape even though the gesture is commonly thought tender.
This is to say that the energy used is not the matter to worry about. If you are angry or sad it doesn't mean you are any more likely to come to harm than in happiness if you have experienced happiness as the fleeting or too long lingering thing I have.
And again, if you can't see what I say here, I mean to communicate that in happiness I have found more pain than joy.
In the end all pain is joy to me, but at first bite, the ecstacy of knowing someone loves me in his or her way as even Matthew does is pure agony.
It's written about so many places I could point you. Places you respect, or used to before you found one such as I am respected what you did and then, like me, some of you jumped ship not wanting to be reminded my spirit would be in the things I cared about.
But Matthew doesn't tend to be quite such a total lame-ass as that. Of course I mean no offense, but if you end up giving up the things you love just because they happen to remind you of me, I am going to laugh at least twice as hard as I did when any of you left me, because you know those things are more me than I may be said I am, and yet it is so, that if they were once called other than Alexandra, they are not me at all.
It's for this that I tend to laugh at loss, without thinking first to cry. It's like that with much I experience. You see, it's like when you think there may be a huge monster under your bed, and though this is not untrue, in the light it's a cat playing with a giant Blues-Clues or whatever. I mean, it WAS a monster perceived in the dark, and a change of shift perpetuated the thought that there was nothing to be afraid of.
Which is to say in I hope, a slightly less flighty (as of flying not stupid) way, when the loss is looming I hurt with anticipation and I think it is because I'm going to miss what I lost. That's the dark I do suppose, it is.
But then, the tension breaks, and for all the world there is pain in it you have never known the likes of in me, for I am strong enough to feel things just about as bad as they may be. As most may not be, so it is. I say I'm strong because I happen to be. Not because I care much if I am.
Oh dear, I hate telling the truth all the time, and then being perceived a liar just because some people, most my friends in former and even present do not believe me.
They say they are friends. I try to talk openly about what that means to me. I say that I want honesty above all, no matter how they think it may hurt me, and if they don't give it to me, I think it is not for my sake they don't offer it, but because knowing that as the old one goes, to GIVE a punishment comes harder as pain than to get one.
I hate to say this especially, but I think, all being BDSM, that is, about the joy that may be found in pain and around again for me, and I accept all things, and because to be a masochist is to experience how weird it is to be in the sadist position to see how the difference may feel, FEEL not hurt. The call to feel pain is the call to feel something, see pain is available and take what you can get if the price paid and the prize given means to learn.
And always it does. I keep trying to bring this back to what I thought I meant to say about all this, finding it wasn't what I meant at all. And yet I find it hard to mean other than I say, so I could type long into the night appearing to talk not much at all, using my perception of what the objects in front of me are to tell you what that perception is, and so finally, at least in spirit, I find myself jumping into a lavafilled lucy volcano, and tell you how for being warm to a degree I could stand, which given how I experienced what pain was, was quite high.
I wouldn't know what the pain was for but that someone told me. It's not as creepy as it sounds, though I do acknowledge how it sounds.
Watch how I tell you what this means to me, and see if it makes any difference to how you treat me.
What it is, is that, as stoicism would have it, I say yes to all that is in the world I am commanded to love in entirety. So, in saying I would do this in my heart, I open the rest of me to all I might know, even pain and because it knows I welcome it to me, it shows me that a burn is only a soft caress gone very fast and burning for the friction with which it must touch your skin.
A hard slap throbs for a bit and then, when slower and a bit less hot, just warm, it feels like a warm or cool hand against your cheek.
And what's more, something called a bruuse or a cut comes to tell you what the mark of a love like that leaves on you. It literally invites you to know your experience through what it would look like if you could look at your soul.
And I contend, you can do that, as I have described. We all have perceived a great weight in our chest when we want to cry, a release of much of it, when it is we do finally release. And it hurts more to release for me somehow, and so, laughing done harder than crying, hurts and humiliates me more than tears might do, for lack of resistence or control.
That's the physical aspect. You feel some weird sensation and in your head feel only something tickling if you are true and open to what you love. I am so blessed for I love to be tickled, and now I have not many chances to love physically and yet feel anyone I may want to is tickling at me constantly and I literally break and release, that is, come, have an orgasm without touching myself.
And when I can stand the painful ecstacy of doing that I literally see stars, rainbows. His or her face which I know is only the face and light of god.
How embarrassing to say that. And yet, I realize I am not at all embarrassed that I associate all sensation I experience, but that knowing there are people so in pain that they find pleasure in MINE, not even what their own may bring them.
This isn't sadism per se, that they wish they saw in themselves, and if they knew what it was, would be so tortured that I would pray they know how to derive pleasure from pain by recognizing all as atoms or energy. As the joke goes, how good it feels when it finally stops.
But how some of you act here, I am so distressed. I would say confused, not believing what you do could happen, or that people so in pain would be allowed to exibit it as such when all of us, commanded by the texts to be only happy with what we have, would find a way or be driven from their misery by death.
And so, to take pleasure in the pain of the experiences I share with you, which isn't even mine, but yours, is not to be a sadist, guiding someone through the pain he feels to show her the mark it left on him, to put it on her. This is but beauty as I know it. I want you to understand I have become a medium for all the experience and joy of the world.
I'm not saying this to make you go away, for though I be more free without you and knowing a constant pulsing joy that the freedom of loss may bring me, I prefer the harder pain of what it means to have someone literally, physically always weighing as if I was balancing a brick to build my back, caught and hacking in my needled throat, pressing on my loins.
Understand I would call it urine and the weight of my hair and hitting critical mass so your body is your own weight machine and bearing yourself up to the world as one will do sustains and remembers all the work you have done without having to enter the temple, such as any gym has been to me, where the work was done.
I mean to say the purse I carry with the swords and the books and all in all the hundred or so pounds of everything, and the 200 I bring to the floor, is meant to say that it's enough to do the work you do and have that be your only communion with the spirit of exercise now instead of looking for your guide, MAtthew in a different form, when it would pain you so much to find him.
I'm not quite sure what it is I say here, and you may comment though you may be wrong for my right to find.
It's like this. You start talking, never really having listened to yourself before, not knowing why you are able to do so now. And you are as fascinated with yourself as others seem to be for different bad reasons, but you don't care what they tell you they think about it anymore, because what they actually KNOW about it, is jack shit.
And of course, Jack Shit being the welcoming fellow he is, room for all within his home, I gathered up the shit, that is to say, got it together, to delver I know not where, and there he was, demanding, though never to say that he desired all the shit, formerly of jack I had to offer.
Matthew, I mean, of course, but as middle named John, my brother, Matthew, the middle name of a former lover much like him, Rhett, and of course, Jack being a nickname for John as I see it, and all Irish Folks not to mention us greeks bastards and well, shitheads so to speak, so what has happened here, do the little words I'm using tell me?
Simple. He is a trainer which is to heal by incidental pain, the pain not the point of course, but the release the suffering may cause.
And, as a poet, we find this is also my job, different specialty, and yet, he is also a poet, better than I am because it seems he know how useless it was but for what it could do, people prefering pictures. So, he majored in the arts visual and minored in my major art, which is but such a minor thing to have done there, and he is a surrealist, and part of my own minor in . . .visual arts. And Tori Amos's voice I have when do I choose not often to write, and he has seen her there in my voice these NINE TIMES, and he knows my Phair Liz, and my Tracey Bohnam somehow.
And the things, I being younger but a bit more worldly that he doesn't know are the things he knows anyway and never had words for, like animism, and showtunes, Annie and Frank Singing about people saying we're in love though we're not allowed to show it, and of some enchanted evening, a stranger across a crowded room that night I was looking for one so new in a crowded room in the middle east, imagining I would quote a verse of Matthew not knowing what I did.
Losers, why with all this would I need anything else ever from him? I have all that he has and more within me, because he dared to be not like most of you and actually show me he existed.
In other words, I could have found him any time, I just had to say I was ready. It isn't like what they say, people down on their knees day and night praying for it til it comes.
If your knees are meant to bend, so will they in some other idol of a worship no more pure just because you happen to say his name.
And you see, though I am delivered in him and deliberate for what he taught me, it all came intuitive organic and all at once to me through him I perceive giving me.
It's to ask of you what I must give you to tell you that to be crazy for so many damned good reasons, and yet only one is not at all to be, but focused. So, what is your problem. Maybe he left the other night with two most poetic though in prose hurtful sentences because he didn't want to hurt me more than he must, and so hurt me all that he could to show me what the pain could do, and to see if I could stay.
You just tell me I'm wrong or how this doesn't make sense, other than by appealing to the proof from the false authority of gods and mand who are but jealous and want to take it from me thinking they can't have it just for standing near me, as you do now, but not as you want because you don't and I do know what I want, and so I have spoken as I should, but not you because you know not what to say or how much you may even demand.
And so I laugh at pain because it isn't mine anymore, just an experience I have for him and all who would suffer without me. I haven't left, they have never gone. It's all the same, and it is all bullshit, and in bullshit I find nothing but Matthew and I hate him, but he's a spike in my back, an Ox in my dream, you know, and I the willow tree, not feeling but knowing it.
You die, I laugh. Nothing can change. Nothing can do but change it.
It's bullshit, all this. I don't say it is not
But is it really for you to say if you do not know?
Answer me what is objectively wrong with saying they are part of my life if the past is part of my life and they are part of it, and only part.
The implication here is of course that if you call this obsession as you see it and you are honest in your search for what may be wrong, well, then I cannot disagree.
And yet, you do not answer me if you care or not about your search at all. If it is for you to say that what Alexandra does in her own journal which Matthew and all others may choose not to read, and so cannot be said, though they may feel hunted to actually BE stalked. If you are logical at all, you know that nothing may be said to harm but that it is perceived to do so by someone who chooses to be harmed. A secret desire I know well myself, that I often take on to call out of others. No harm but help done there, though for sure and it be true that help may surely do harm. I tell you this is so, to make you see that tenderness may be seen brutal if tenderness one is not yet ready to receive as such.
So, it is not that I think I wish to speak to Matthew. I would be happy if we never spoke again to him regardless of what I think or feel of him, which despite my passion and the words appropriate for its mad formation of black geese.
The harm, and I say harm to mean permanent damage, as that is what I mean by it, that I have known from caring for as I do, others, is more than I can say.
But it is a necessary way to form the statue that may be myself, but for it's horrible beauty I am sure it cannot really be me, but merely how I must be presented to be heard at all.
Regardless of how I am received, I see good here that people are talking about anything they may think is important to discuss, though I sometimes find myself confused as to why they would rather discuss my behaviior than the concerns herein addressed.
Even now I have asked you to explain what is objectively wrong with what I do. Not what I say, I know what may be said is wrong with that though I do not agree.
The facts here as I see them be, that I write here in a journal that anyone may see, of course for even if it were in my notebook alone, myself who read and myself who wrote would be at odds. I know that's odd, but I'll explain it in saying I have no attachment to what I write once I put it on the page.
I mean yes, it talks of sensitive things that perhaps ought not be said or answered by anyone for what they provoke. I just don't think that is the wrong thing for me to do in a journal of my own where I seek with ardent sincerity to know why I am guided by forces I perceive to be outside of me and why these forces see to manifest themselves so strange and strong as I am when they could make me so very soft as he seems to me.
The fact is I am that soft sometimes, as now, though I regret you may not perceive I am for how I challenge you in saying I have no right to know the things I say.
And that's what I'm asking, what you haven't yet answered to my satisfaction, but may yet if I continue to try to get you to do so, to justify your very strange presence here. Forgive me if you will or even if you will not. I say only what I think I must and I concede I may be wrong.
But, it seems no one would ever say anything he or she perceives to be wrong. My question again as you an I may hope to understand it, is very simply, "Why do you act as if it is wrong to say and do what I will in my journal or my ashen fleshen life here merely because I have suffered because of it.
Another way to be is this: Why do you seem to think it is wrong to have an opinion about my own life and write it down? I do not really understand what you think this can do to anyone, regardless of who may read it. That is theirs to learn if they want the lesson, yes?
And yet another more simple or at least more short here: IS it wrong for me to suffer for things I perceive worth it, because I perceive that is what is here in my life to do, but the reason I stay here?
IF you do not understand again, I'm asking this: I can see that you know I like to suffer for what may make me strong, for that is not to suffer alone as I see it, but to grow with you and others. Is this really wrong?
Then might I again ask you, a version of all these? I perceive by how you seem annoyed when you write, that you are like me in being annoyed that you feel you must write at all.
This is understandable of course, as I say I understand it, of course, but I do not call your dislike of my stuff here WRONG, I just don't happen to like it, and so I think it may not be right, but do not deny that to you and others it may be, and that then it is even so.
I give you what you seem to need from me here though I cannot be said to like you much, and I wish to, so I'm sorry.
But to understand you I ask you give me the real reason YOU post here without, as you may try, mentioning either me or too much of what I write here.
Can you do that?
And final: Is it wrong to have a Livejournal, use it how you like, and let others in, as all here seem to do?
You see, I know I must really be wrong about that, or you probably wouldn't be here at all, having no resepct for what was done here.
So why is it wrong for me to write what I want here and see if someone worthwhile, not necessarily who I want to find it of course, may do so, such as you have?
I mean, I dislike what you have to say, it is what it is, which is to say boorish and self-centered, and lame, exibiting a true dislike of the effort itself to understand what is read for what it is, and NOT who may have written it.
For really, personfriend, if you ever have known me before as others here have, do the words seem like mine? They surely do not to me. In fact, I'd venture to say they have never sounded on the page as I perceived myself in flesh.
This isn't to say I think they didn't come from me, but I ask why it is either necessary or even not boring to put so much time into criticizing my character and not what I said, when I don't really see what how the words are crafted have to do with such a character as I may have, according to you.
In otherwords, is it worth it to you in your life you may or may not own to dislike me and others you may online, though they can do nothing but functionally annoy you a lot.
Is it really that bad to be annoyed?
Are you the princess in the pea?
Okay, that's enough. I don't wish to hurt you, just to know why you wish to hurt me. I don't mind if you do hurt me, I can take it. I just want to know what such would be worth to you, and in knowing that would be glad to continue to offer it to you, as to give you pain that you caused is to pain you as you pain me, and thus to share an experience, which I think, some days, passes good as any for a reason to live.
So, lady, what is your reason for either posting or living. It would creep me out if either it had to do with me, or I had to do with it, of course, but either way, what is it? I'm just curious.
Monday, December 5, 2005
would have been there another day.
Folks, you can't seem to hurt me though I long to be hurt. It comes from all your lies.
Speak the truth which is easiest for you to so do, and you will have your own best wish though it may hurt you more than it does me, as most other parent figures and obnoxious people are bound to say.
And so they say it again in another song, don't do anything I wouldn't do. Que sera sera
Because the facts may easily be though I can't be sure at all, that it was my work to do that day and that in fact he wasn't there at all, and only appeared to be in the first place at the desk where he sat, seeing me in the way he slightly turned from his book and then later when he couldn't see my form but sensed my presence in his shorts if I may be bold but not too crude about the whole shebang.
Do not speak for knowing nothing. There is nothing you may defend in so doing. Just advice I would save for myself and my enemies, most my friends at that, for the brutality of it, so tenderly casual as he and I, is hard to bear, but not usually too much for anyone.
We all love to be poisoned with booze and bread, especially the irish.
I know just how it begins, as do you, but cannot admit, even to yourselves, to whom it may be said, you have never once listened or you wouldn't need to speak like this, least of all to no one in me, Alexandra Davis.
Still she is she.
Sunday, December 4, 2005
She is the first poem I have written these last six years or so. The only thing for which I have been asked by you. Wise though you are, even in my strength, perhaps it is all I have ever owned to give you. You SAW that! My only human, girlish blush.
Dork. Pervert. Never again tell me I do not know you.
It is what it is, what it may be, only what you say, you are the only audience, though others may think they can read it. Believe me.
Go see it in her, my journal. She carries it so much better than I may ever hope to do.
Her friends are also fond of you, more than she, for she is more me than I wish to be.
http://www.livejournal.com/users/psychoticfallen/
http://www.livejournal.com/users/violetshotsilk/
http://www.livejournal.com/cleopatramantis/
Alexandra
If we could swim
I asked you that day you bemoaned your height and its disgrace in basketball to teach me how to swim.
You did not know how and I was not surprised, the East what it is.
And yet what I have not found in myself but that has been in you?
You know how to Swim, Matthew. It's Martial Arts,
Fighting for your life in the water.
I suppose I do as well.
This is what I have tried to tell you,
What you refuse to hear.
I have only been seen to swim when I thought I was, or knew I could be drowning.
Mama so proud, not knowing I couldn't breathe but for her, cheering me on
Little dolphin bluish-black on her back
Appearing to swim away.
For true. Swimming to the air of her arms, her kisses, her clownish smile.
Her high voice, more sorry, buring, kisses as she lifted me gasping from the water.
There I released the chlorine in my stomach, my throat, and she knew but what had happened.
"Oh, Darling, I didn't know, you looked the beauty, so sweet
Swimming away on your back.
I didn't see your pain for being unable to breathe in again."
And so, I'll try to tell it again, as it is and not like:
Matthew Mahoney, it's as morphine is, and a bit like swimming.
I have the movement and breathe in the mirror before me, with you
But I fear the water is mine and not yours, god of the black moon
Of the sun, of the red bandages and the blue heavy bag, my lower abdomen.
Even that is mine, you see. Never will it end. Though I bear not your children
So am I ever and always pregnant with what you have given us.
Understand. This is not fate, not shrewish destiny, blushing in her bloody violet anger.
This is how we were meant to fit. Together and apart as lost puzzle pieces.
Or marbles, they say, you the giant pearl aggie, me the alexandrite, cheap amethyst sub.
Round in the anger of her knowledge, knowing she alone may be your fate, and yet cannot be for her will to live
Without you.
Let me never say it again, and if I regret nothing else, that I have ever said it to begin.
But I had to, Maddie, My only Oberon or Albert, or John,
Not knowing, either of us what it means to hold anything, too light in our paths
I am let go, though I feel you all around me and swim,
Black swan to the air, where I may not find you, yet I know just now
Just right, where you may have been.
Alexandra
Dude, you never would believe that I would believe these schmucks not lurking hard enough here as you do.
This is funny now though it fueled an almost serious suicide attempt the other day. You need never have worried that in mania, that black rose garden where we made our eden, I would crash. Where had I to go but there, MDTM? How far from the ground were we, snuggling like little friends in a tree house but three feet off the ground. That is my only Mania, I assure you.
And so, the earth being black, read, violet, all mine in colors of me, I prefer it there. The tree is black like your hair, white of leaves as the moss of his skin, yours, it is not mine, I never have belonged.
But, for my payment, Maddie, you invited me, cruel mercinary to know your searing kindness. even they would not deny this for they think it is my crime alone, and you the only victim.
You the victim, yes, but then the blood on my hands seems to come from where I might have squeezed you or anyone hard enough to bleed, and so I do, not you. Don't lie to them about it, they do not know your fondness for the irony and you do not know them, though you claim to, more than they or you know me.
It is as such: We claim, for our true paths that we must have seen one another once and again, the laws of physics being what they are, and the resistence being chosen for the same.
But why or when or wherefore have I seen you but in our one babylon, red bloody oasis to our only star or stars?
I say, boldly though it must not be true for one second: NOWHERE!
Even though we saught each other when the job was done to talk over what it meant, what we knew was happening already, I looked and not having any maps on my body could not find you or she who is my blood in you.
So, could you have been my dream but more than in the lyric sense? Yes, of course.
And yet that very day but two breaths or less to say you lived, the first time I had ever known it, outside of me. So, the stars and saints be praised, I am not your mad violet mother, Matthew Mahoney and your name is not nor ever will be mine, again, thanks to those who would go unnamed if they cared not to be seen.
You are real to other than me and so that is how I have ever been able to let you and not others go, though I found and deemed and deigned you most important, Child!
So, if I am your mother, let me be, it is time to leave the nest as I have said, yet I am not, so let me be but called your wife when we are joking and your sister when we must straighten our wicked smiles.
It is all but said and Done, Sweet boy. Son and Lover, Like my man, teh D. H. ;-)
Alexandra
The comment cound says I have spoken less than been berated. Not surprising in a small crowd and yet it is so wrong.
M-dawg, it may be time to leave the love nest either one of us has made here and just post around to communities that will not welcome our black hearts and inner asses, but just the same will make it so that we are heard more than the losing dissent.
I weep, as always, but am never sorry.
Saturday, December 3, 2005
I don't so much know what that means,dude. Do you? Is it locker roomjargon the ladies don't usually use around me?
Here it is,as always,laid out as I would be, just for you, M.
Oh,so it is like this, you see. I do not care to groommuch fur beyond the customsof my clothing that isn't on my head. But, the other day, I found it necessary.
And of course, it makes no diffference. Hair does not feelgross during oral unless the fur is too corse. Andmy scent does not change, resting on the baby'sskin rather than the kitten's fur.
But still, I quake with all I can handleand yet do not want to,amtortured constantly by the giant fuckfest in the earth.
Andto prove it,let me tell you that you could bring me off with a single stern look. The day before I met you I felt something awful and so I had to buy a small pillow and a lube tube and get off in the bathroom by the entrance to the gym rooms on the cold floor, my back firm against it, my hips raised by the pillowand then the tension of my muscles, so high, my hips were inches and inches above my head.
It was near instant, and I just know you must have been thinking of someone,maybe Annie and what you wished she would let you watch, and it was me,in her body for a minute.
So, I know it was you got me there. I feel it all the time, thinking over the past.
It isn't always you. Aaron has dominated my entire fantasy life with his other women these last four years, you are but a n00b.
hours long sessions thinking of nothing but being bound,blinded, gagged with cock and plastic,and skin. You can't imagine.
Or not until now anyway.
So, my merciless Oberon: I know all that you love and hate here, and it doesn't make a difference what I do, you and all who could sense what we did would beg me for it. If I seemed to beg and curse at the same time when you had not done the latter, it would only have to do with your slightly higher tenderness ratio. You would learn the bile brings the fluid out much sooner.
I feel before you knew your own body, you must have known a woman's and that'swhy it all seems to bore you so that you don't even careto blush despite where the blood may be and your terrible palor, much worse than mine.But I could see the passion beneath your yogart blueberry face.
Oh dear. Hear this, MAtthew. I talkso dirty,the way I would never let but you or your spirit reach me.
Cunt,bleeding cunt. Red tickle slut,pleasedopn'tmakeme beg when it is you I want to please. Don't, don't. In,in. My mouth,my ass, my thighs, my tits. Now! IN! PLEAAAASE!
And it appears to take forever at first because I am always on the brink and the difference is so small.
But after the first one they come like rapid shooting stars,a fuscilade of light and color. I literally see stars and rainbows and a lover'sface when I can bear to fantasize at all for coming too much to see anything at all.
Blackouts. Littledeaths,bigger than any I've known. imagine. This willbe enough to smooth over the one significant difference.
You believe in a god and I do not. This is because I know whatsex can do,and sex brings me to god as you or any other priest cannot do.
Believe me, Matthew Mahoney, there is no destiny and yet when the pieces fit, one knows it is meant to be.
Know this one piece. Know that we could be legends. I stroke and press the scarab in the center of the anch my father gaveme, Cleopatra in my heart,and I make it there,to nirvanaor wherever I see fit to go,just on that. You sensed, Maddie, but never did you know.
What will you do now that it is so?
Alexandra
Friday, December 2, 2005
And at the last, I wish to say, that you knew always what BDSM was, if not the letters, still the song, still the meaning. You like Buffy.
But Matthew, what you forget is that it's real to some of us, you too but for your lack of time and willingness to accept yourself.
So, if the suspension FANTASY scared you, I apologize for your pain on your behalf. However, it was not written about you, only every man who may have laid eyes on my body, and actually seen it in the last twenty-seven years, before or beyond.
You are a fool but my job as yours, is to help them as I can.
So, be happy you are a fool. I am happy to be free. I have never been more free than when with you and your going to another place where my spirit or my physical form may be does not change, that for two weeks you were my mentor and my friend. My body made for what it is, you were also my lover or at least my client at heart, and now that I am not allowed to pay you or be paid in gratitude for making your job so easy, you are off like the prom dress you may wear when no one can see you, a strong, wounded woman inside. *smiles gently*
I will never once say it. Once is only enough and no more, and so it is nothing, Matthew, as you and I are nothing, and perhaps less because we are something.
Alexandra
P.S. Being cognizant of one's annoyance to oneself and others is not to be psychotic, but you wouldn't know that because you worked in a tenderly misogynist hospital in Everett, where by the way, the Prescott House Hostel refused to pick me up when an unskilled taxi driver left me stranded, though the shuttle hours were operative.
So, of course that is where you were most happy but for the money and me or my spirit.
Oh Matthew, you do not know what you have given me, nor what you will be given for having lost me. I told you once I would show you more joy than you ever had known. I asked you to trust me, but now that you know me and find you cannot, you have done what you could never before do, and that is to trust yourself.
What is said is best left silent.
Again, Alexandra, mine now and not yours. Thank *goodness*, for there is no god, though now, like you, I could almost believe he is there, if still dead to me.
Have I told you without you first guessing that when I speak into someone's limited voicemailbox, I have to leave between three and six messages to finish what I meant to say and couldn't? It's funny. Three everywhere as if this is the search for the holy grail.
And, so it is, but, man, who would have dreamed it so ridiculous?
And so, I have responded this last time, because if you didn't want me to, you would not have spoken. It really is that simple.
I have written this explication of the truth to a former friend who now sides with you in your treatment of me,as I do, and yet she thinks it is because you are right and I wrong, not two together wanting the same in different shades.
Again now, here it may be. Please read it.
I know all that and am comforted in the knowledge.
Woman, friend, concerned enemy who fears defeat, please listen.
To see me in my ugliness and say I have done no wrong I can avoid could be called love if I was feeling particularly insulting,but that is not in me but for all the rage, understand. And so,mercifully,he did not love me.
There is one thing called a soul in this world which is the other thing called the light of God. It is within him. The first person I knew once upon a time was named John. I was Alexandra. This we knew, the voices of our parent-gods did tell us this.
So, he is who he is, and only another, no one really at all to me,and yet still important for that he lives.
As to the last: Yes, of course, and I did tell him so, though to keep my precious funds he did deny it and did not lie, not to me.
What it is, is this. I have a concern or need about my only body on this earth. I go to any random place claiming it understands, but it does not.
It happens to be where my parents began their work in the sport that was a metaphor for how violently they were loved by one another. And so, any YMCA, could have been any man, a woman, a dog, no trainer at all but my soul driven by my petulant body.
But it was Matthew John Mahoney who is such a sacred to all whom he knows in all ways, that I cannot bear utter his name,and this may be the last time I ever do. And only for you that you may understand without knowing you do.
So, though I would never dare refute you, you may still be wrong. Not so much wrong in the end of course, all things being the same and neither right nor wrong in themselves.
But to me, your lie is clear. You think all that you say matters and I should scream and break under it. I do, man, and yet why on earth would an insensitive fly as yourself be able to hear it?
Alexandra
It is just like that, what else may be said. Such as in Gwen Brooks' poem,"The mother"
"What can I say? What is there left to be said?" / You were born, You Had a Body, You Died. It's just that you never healed or giggled or cried. I loved you all. I knew you, though faintly,and I loved, I loved you all."
So,what is it now, my friend, I cannot stand to name? All I ever wanted to know about you was if you thought I couldn't know you just because I hadn't seen you long. We talked as no others can, and this not being so rare, how are you different from me,and what do I not know of myself. Oh dear, it is this. I do not know what you are, want to be,or must to me. Vital though that may be, it is so small and yet for this you shun me and any memory therein.
And so I am convinced I do not care as I have said I do, you care for me. And I think this only because if you think about it, I cannot harm you. You have told me not to touch you with words and so believe me though they are there to put one's hands upon, the spirits do not let me touch you.
And so ,nothing changes. Have I ever touched you but that you first touched me? No, gross! Would I never do that but to cut off all my limbs first. You are too powerful with your burning black light. I saw this with my core, and not my eyes, and so, though I rarely can do this, I believed but did not know.
I believe in you when I appear to believe in myself. I do not know you, do not care who you may be. You are free and unused to this in your disciplines, believe I do not let you go,for you in your stubborn,taciturn,and yet in a way I may still here in times of peace, do not let medo so. And it is allI wish to do. Help if you can.
Oh my poor little fool. Oh the silly sing-song ache of the Good Earth. Black Pearl of irritation, my greatest acomplishment in death.
M, I care not to know all this and yet I defy you to tell me but for your perception alone, that it is a lie.
This is the last to be this direct. I am done as I so wish to be. But what I write to you now will go in that shiny sweet black trashcan of my journal.
I tried to tell you. I am so ugly when I write for others, so never have I done before now. But you seem to be myself in another form, so I thought I could not write a word to you in error.
But, you are your much stronger self, even in my voice. So, let it be said that I fucked up, though I had no other choice. You wanted to, and yet were not ready to see who we are together, and so you have shut your eyes , but the tapestry remains above the bed we may once have shared. Do not dream but to deny.
And so I am happy, free of your blackest soul, though it is all ever and always I have sought in myself. You are what I dream to be, and now can be, having seen the paradigm.
And be this only done for you have had the courage to let go as I tried so hard to teach you when I was alive with you, and to you.
Matthew, though I cannot bear to say it, you know I may not harm even a fly who does not long in his shit and five thousand eyes to be crushed, and so you have crushed yourself, knowing I couldn't do it.
Released me not for fear of or for yourself, but for me, who would never have asked for such a horror though it was all she ever may have desired.
Desire is a fool's game, a disguise of need.
So it is said in silence again, and I depart, part of it all, in you. Only let this be done, for I am now resigned, Matthew.
Alexandra
I suppose I scared you and must find your spirit elsewhere.
There is nothing to be done but to live your life, despite what you may perceive I have done.
If she has my spirit, go to her. I am where I must be as are you.
Live as you will, then rest, be done.
I can say no more but what I would.
Thank you for the direction I am now headed because you are yourself, Matthew. I have done all you want and so you rot in your hatred of your own desires.
It is done. I must always have the last word or I am crushed. Follow your own orders regarding me until you awake as I had to when they dragged me from the shower.
Alexandra
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