The Dream II

I am dreaming
There is a dome that is not a dome
It is the sky and the enclosure
I have been lured here
but not even I know how or why
I am surrounded by shadowy faces
But the room is empty at the same time
It is ritualistic, almost
There is a sense of anticipation
Around me, all is growing darker and darker
I’m growing claustrophobic
The non-people are closing in on me
The walls are closing in on me
Musty, yellow smells
And then
it’s over, and I am gone
I’m still HERE
Wherever HERE is in my dream
And yet I don’t exist. 
This dream never stops
Repeating as long as I can remember
As I age the dream becomes more vague
and occurs less frequently
But it is there
It will always be there
Reoccurring until I don’t exist.

We Used To Talk

We used to talk
until the sun rose pink and golden on both sides of the continent
Me praying that my parents didn’t wake up
You taking the occasional smoke break
We cursed our phones and opened our hearts
Because one dropped call
Could be the difference between unveiling the answers to the mysteries of the world
Or falling asleep while wishing I was in your arms
I can still hear Nick Cave turned down really low on my computer
And you sent me links of stuff I’d never listen to otherwise
Sometimes the sexual frustrations bled through
Sometimes you and I were practically one being curled up on a couch having a conversation without the midwest and texas in between us
It’s after midnight now and it feels like I should be talking to you
But I can’t.  I screwed that up. 
Now I watch the sun rise while fighting the thoughts that tempt me seductively down dark roads
I watch Sid & Nancy
I can’t believe that was Gary Oldman and the movie makes me even more depressed
Facebook flickers on a closed tab, taunting me with the possibility that you might respond to my pathetic attempt at a failed apology that wouldn’t do shit anyways
I see you added her
She’s pretty and blond and skinny and happy; everything I am not, at the moment
Here I am, a lead weight hovering at the edge of your conscious mind, forever offering my services
The ghost, my memories of you
They haunt me when everyone else goes to sleep and I run out of things to google or write or read or hear or do
We used to talk
Now I carry on conversations with the psyches in my head
Sure they’re interesting, but they have a flair for the dramatic
And they sure as hell can’t replace you

What is rape?

I imagine myself as some sort of monster
covered in the digested remnants of cupcakes and sympathy jizz
I see these
clothes
faces
bodies
bonds
that I want so badly
I want that to be me
but/no
none of that ethereal waifish beauty for me
none of that love shit for me
bloody noses bloody apendages bloody bloody
fucking bloody
not alternative enough for the alternatives
not in the right ways
but I don’t want to be right for them
them them what is this them of which we speak so disdainfully
a conglomerate of all we hate and cannot accurately name
it’s them’s fault
stop playing the victim
I’m the one who keeps eating
I’m the one who forgets to reapply sunscreen
I’m the one who got drunk
I’m the one who flirted with you (while drunk)
I’m the one who blacked out (screw the fact that you were supposed to be my friend.  What kind of friend screws a girl who has no idea what she’s doing? What kind of friend violates a woman, no matter how drunk, in a club bathroom?  What kind of friend am I to you for not telling you I was involved with someone before hitting on you when I was so drunk I had no idea where I was or who you were?)
I’m the one at fault
It’s not date rape cuz we weren’t on a date
It’s not rape because I hit on you first (Screw the fact that even the fucking lawyers realize a woman CANNOT FUCKING GIVE CONSENT WHEN SHE’S SHITFACED!  FUCK YOU!)
I ruined everything
Because friends don’t cause drama
Because you were drunk too
Because rape is too strong a word
Because I had to pay the doctor to sew me back up down there because you didn’t care that you were hurting me
Because I’ll never tell you that
Because you’d hate yourself forever
Because you don’t deserve that
I shouldn’t have been drinking
I shouldn’t have taken those beers they handed me
I shouldn’t have blacked out (even though it’s my body’s reaction to the toxins in alcohol and I had no control over it)
I shouldn’t have
I shouldn’t have
I shouldn’t have
It’s all my fault (and no one will ever see it any differently)
I remember a beer and a bonfire and and an artist from Burning Man
And then oblivion
All I remember is you pulling on my hair then black
then you’re helping me buckle my belt back up because I was too drunk (should that have been a clue?)
Then nothing
Then I’m being led outside and I get the vague idea I should be humiliated
Then a waking death/nothing
Then I’m talking to HIM
And it’s all over
Everything I hoped for wished for dreamed for held on for
During two years of captivity
Gone
Thank you.
Because now I know why women don’t talk about these things
Because now I know how it feels to know that if I say even a tiny fraction of what I’m feeling/thinking/knowing I’ll be ostracized/alone/despised even more than HE already does
Because I’m scared
Because I don’t want to hurt you
Because I feel disgusting
Like everyone knows I’m a whore/slut/easy/unfaithful/gullible/weak
Because I think I am
Because I lost the right to be happy/safe/loved/made to feel beautiful
Because I don’t have motivation anymore
I don’t deserve success
I lost the right to dream
I am not a victim
It’s my fault.

A Possible Future

If I can’t be beautiful, I’ll get so smart that no one knows the difference
my sexy brain will lure you in
surely as you need someone to bounce your stoner philosophies off of
I had a man once, who could match me neuron for neuron
But he’s only in my dreams now, but I wake up to you
At least you’re good in bed, cuz you’re sure lacking in the head

My bones are glassy frozen
Twin icicles connected by a jointed ice cube
Frozen frozen freezing cold
Sami ice queens
Shivering, waiting for the midnight sun
Cold hearts,
    Cold bones,
        Cold hooves
Wrapped in snowy furs
Spangled with fire opals
    Of the deepest black

Early Grey Tea
    Contentment
    Realization
        Sadness
I caught sight today
        Of myself
            Longways
In the window’s reflection of the
            Dark night
    The face was plain, plump, sad
    An albino apple on a
Dispropotionate dissappointment
    Of a lower half
No shining feature
    Save Otis
    Jolly Old Englishman
    Firmly planted around my middle
White, no, yellow marks
        The only proof that I can
        Bounce back
    From touch
An unspecial embrace
    That he gives to women
        Far more genetically blessed
My head
    My heart
        Must make up for . . .
            Everything else
    I have loved erringly
    And looked longingly
To my credit
    I am a realist
I will never get anything I do not
                Deserve
I tempt no man to distraction
Personality only takes you so far
            In love
I am a realist

Lock
Lock
And lock again
Never safe
Never sound
Speak
Speak
And speak again
Quiet down
Quiet down
Never safe
Never sound
Lock me down
Lock me down