The Labyrinth: The Affair

The Labyrinth: The Affair: The Beginning: There is no sweeter invitation than your unlocked door I slip in, clothes off, switched on, My world narrows. Surpa...

Letting Go

My hands cannot hold your face,
So they paint solemn pictures
Frida Kahlo style.

My lips cannot kiss your mouth,
So they stick together dryly
Unlubricated by tongue or tears.

My heart cannot feel your spirit,
So it sits in the worst loneliness
Witnessed, yet unseen.

My body cannot press against yours,
So it tries for solitary release
Leaving me in disappointed whimpers.

My mind cannot frolic with yours,
So it retreats in darkness
As I slowly begin to heal.


Mind Ramblings of an Overdramatic Nature

Phalanges twitch wanting to spew forth languanges..
Wait. Backspace.
wanting to layer linguas upon the smooth floor of polished paper............
Aaaa lilting ballet of eloquent emotion. 

Pause. Sigh. Eye-roll. Continue.
Wine wastes the edges of raw
leaving a delusional cotton-candy version 
of the carnage laid waste across my mind
ravaged hearts,
 massacred moments,
scavenged meanderings through memories. 

Do I proceed? Why stop now.
I try to guess what you think
It is a masochistic errand
even fools won't touch. 
If only I had a magic bean 
to bury in your heart soil
and grow an aorta capable 
of pumping blood to your brain. 
It was lost in the nether regions
where we whiled away hours in rehearsal 
playing at making love. 

Period. Delete. 

The Affair

The Beginning:

There is no sweeter invitation
than your unlocked door
I slip in,
clothes off,
switched on,
My world narrows.

Surpassing passion couples
with simmering fears
of what is,
what can be,
what will never be,
My foundation cracks.

You drive deep digging my well
water springs free
I wipe my tears,
you tell me-
I am beautiful...
My gates unhinge.

The Middle:

Limeade tickles my tongue
Vodka loosens my mind.
The heat of you
strikes the spark in me
I combust.

Dry goods room
the best place to start a fire.
The obvious is poetry in action.
Pretty words can't describe
the feeling of my face
pressed into your shoulder
I fragment.

The world floats
in its humdrum pace.
I sail within
thrumming under my skin
to my own beat.
I  simmer.

The End:

In the sunshine I feel broken
Scars exposed to rays sear open.
Another delusion shifts
to disenchantment.

Tired  I pull my cloak over my head,
wearily grasp my lantern,
and walk alone
into black.

Goodbye

I look over my shoulder,
my gaze tastes you one last time.

The you that was you
when there was we, ceases to be.

I stalk the streets we walked
my steps steal them back from memories.

Flavors of lovers sift,
 I sigh, savoring my colorful mistakes.

Richness lingers beyond pain,
my landscape vibrant, temptations to tears.

You would not dream beyond reality,
My dream solidifies to certainty.

Regrets don't exist in a knowing soul,
my toe nudges the door wide.

I surrender in the fire of a man
who finds my hand through layers of me.

Alone I am complete.
 Instantly he Sees.

When Thinking Instead of Singing in the Shower.....

I anoint myself with rose oil,
you waft into my mind.
Water steams down my back
flushing skin with thoughts of you behind....
A closed door.

I explore the crack
On my knees, seeking you.
Light explodes, splits my heart
Premonition insists I pay my dew....
'I am not ready.'

I glory in vulnerable skin,
Defiant in lust, excuses wash me clean.
I turn my mind's eye blind
truth insidiously thrusts laying a grimy sheen.....
'This is not what I want.'

I sigh not sated in release
pleasure dilutes wisdom as I fly.
I hit the ceiling,
Sensation sinks headlong, who laughs first later cries....
'What should I do?'

I step out onto the cold floor
hard tile dampens heat toes to thighs.
I shiver in knowing,
Glow dulls dim, body reflecting what mind implies
A lock clicks open.

A Story

  It was an embrace too awkward to be sexy and too intimate to be anything other than love. They made jokes about how she was a frog perched on his lap, and in those jokes she knew her sorrow was not his burden. His refusal to shift to her mood, and his insistence at laughter left no room for her heart to frown. But still an anxious beat hit double-time in her chest.
       He knew she was not hard to read, but he would have known her even if she was. His arms encircled her froggy spine and he lay his forehead gently on hers tilting it ever so slightly back and forth so his eyes crossed at odds with his face. She giggled helplessly.
        She yearned for words of love and admiration but she knew instinctively they would not be believed if he gave them in response to her asking. So she sat in her own ant hill feeling the gentle crawl of the mound begin to swarm and overtake her. No easy answer. No comfort found in circumstance or skin. No way out.
         Whether through osmosis (third-eyes still resting unceremoniously on each other) or by his knowing of her breath, the tension in her body, he knew the fears that choked words below her throat and above her heart. A mutiny was beginning in her stomach led by beautiful winged insects.....
       "I can love you when you don't love yourself," he said. "There are people who will love you and believe in you when you don't believe in yourself."
     The relief began to melt and curl up, a plastic bag slowly catching fire. He pulled his head back a bit "But none of it will matter until you truly love yourself."

    Later as the day moved on as life does and profound words become memorable hiccups, she thought with the wisdom of a woman no longer lost in the fairy tale of youthful passion, "This is love."

         The next day he told her he could no longer see a future with her. When she could not see herself his vision of their future together was veiled. She thought with the wisdom of a woman no stranger to loss, "That is life."

Big Fish Potential

Tonight was my last night of yoga teacher training, and like so many things in my life, I was not at all the way I envisioned I would be in the 'defining' moment.  Months ago I would have seen myself serene, triumphant, basking in the glow of praise and affirmations of how brilliant of a yoga teacher I will be. Flash to reality, I am sitting amongst a group of amazingly non-judgemental talented yoga peers, crying my eyes out and realizing how naive I have been in thinking I was somehow 'better' or great.
    Note to self: the biggest talkers often do not back up their claims. In the future DO NOT fall into that category. Quiet confidence is a difficult and impressive quality to embody. The quiet part presents a challenge for me. I am ready to tackle it. Embarrassment is a hard pill to swallow and like most scenarios in my life, the abject humiliation was mostly in my head, but no less acute for that fact. I was so sure I would excel and be the 'top of my class' and in the final moments of the training I fell into bad habits. Lack of discipline and procrastination are cute in college, they are not cute when you are 29, they are self-sabatoging. I am at the stage in my life when I am realizing in a very real way what is and is not working in my life. There is no one else to blame.....everything is a choice.
       Telling the world your parents fucked you up works when you are a teenager, when you are an adult it is your choice to work on yourself and define how much you want your 'nurture' to effect you. Change is in your hands...you just have to have a) awareness of your issues b) balls to decide to change them c) actually put in the work to shift yourself out of the issues.
     I have come to the conclusion that c) is my Achilles heel. As I was driving home in my car, I was having flashbacks of my mother. She was never satisfied with my ability to make A's and B's without even trying. She would always say 'God, if you even tried and put any work in, do you know how well you would do?' I always thought, 'Geez, get off my back, I am doing better than 75% of my peers, give me a break.' But now I get it. I understand in the way only a grown-up perspective can give lightning flashes of real perspective. My mother wasn't trying to say she needed more from me, she was trying to teach me discipline. She somehow knew that if I became comfortable skating along with minimal effort on my god (or genetically) given 'above average' intelligence and talents, one day I would realize that only hard work and practice can actually take you to the next level. In a big pond...the big fish is the one who takes talent and intelligence and combines it with diligent practice. The big fish refines 'above average' intelligence and talent into greatness with hours of sweat and tears.
    I am in a big pond. Los Angeles is full of amazingly talented and hard working people, and I am an itty-bitty fish. Maybe not even a fish, maybe I am still algae. Humbling, this perspective. Being faced with your own mediocrity is always humbling. And the whole 'potential' statement. Now this is a topic unto itself. People have been telling me I have so much 'potential' for much of my life. I have a good friend who has a friend who is an actor. This 'actor' friend recently booked a reoccurring role on True Blood and turned into an overnight sensation. He met up with my friend for coffee and his comment was "No one is telling me I have potential now." It is clear, when you are living your potential, no one comments on the fact that you have it, it is just obvious.
        Living this potential is precisely what I am striving for. Now I just need to dig deep down into the dregs of my personality to find that boring and utterly success-making quality called discipline.....and his sister diligence. The three of us would make for a very profitable and successful team. Time to stop hearing about my potential and to start living it.