torn

self-portrait by Katya

lake bake

ive gone retro on the retrograde today, sun is out, wind is whipping across california’s northern, confusion left in the wake of mercury’s spell cast down through the unbelievable space between us. Mercury is a motherfuck, she jams our communications and the confusion in which i reside got me fallin’ out with my girl half of every evening, half of half of hopeless odds of good luck. fuck!

cannot write. cannot hold a conversation. web pages on edge of viral! warning me i need to change passwords. multiple times, same vendor. same site. yeah right! Some planet in its own world its own orbit fixed, in that unbelievable space between us, is purportedly fucking up our program? Yes yes yes. So sad to say so true. so true, so true, now what you gonna do?

I cannot hardly talk to my girl, the one i love most of all with all my heart! Conversations go awry and affirmations fall out to the coming of deny! deny! DENY!

Meanwhile the goddamn planet we live on, our host, has lost its mind somehow. Maybe got turned on to space acid by the milky way. Or a friend of a friend of the milky way, lets say, big dippers contact on the down low?

if you can learn to read stars like streets, you can gain access to the Orion, humble to her street shakedown crew glowing tight out front the nuclear waves of all colors blasting and diving about this part of my new understanding.

See i opened up this past year, opened up to the earthbound spirit crowd, ’cause i have always known they are here, to my left, my right. i can feel their energy and i got acclimated to them and proceeded to just leave them hanging most of the time, unacknowledged and set aside like junk mail.

Bad idea. So i did, after they left me — after i left them! mind you. I became an seven or eight on the depression scale. Anxiety strangely dropped down to a manageable level, panic attacks at a minimum this summer. Thankfully.

Anyway, I felt like — like– well not like i owed them nothing cause i didn’t. But rather i knew i was meant to pull away from connection with those sentients in full weight — the heavy! — and in lieu of the grande repetitive mating pattern, i chose to give away some of the most captivating timeless juicy romances of my life before now in exchange for my soul!

Scared ya? sorry! I am leaning towards 90/10 opacity mix in this new worldview i have embraced. I wanna be transparent. I wanna be adored. I wanna be anywhere but in what she calls the Bardo.

Cause i cannot fully come over to the comfort of these poor souls earthbound and kinda lost yet kinda found (having found a home in synch with the multitudes of others like them, calm coming over with a simple opaque glance and then a humble passing through one another, the highest form of intimacy for these souls.

I can only witness them, really, though i felt embraced at first…a month now and i know nothing more of any of them, no stories shared, no passing through me, just fear.

They see me and see me seeing them and get scared. Oh. There’s always the one out of ten that has no fear of my kind whatsoever, Often highly volatile element, one electron short of a neutron stable. One legged shivering table.

Restless spirits, endless nights, turning 18th century pocket watches by and by on down to the common evening gathering of trace of life into a fullness, and most importantly , free of the nags, the bitches, the assholes, the witches, the A-types, you know the worst of any and all types! Goddawful ugly mean karmic nightmares fucking up your day or trying. These poor sad souls have perks! Anyone who wants to judge gets judged at time of judgment. And the verdict is easy enough for the proselytizers,

Proselytes, acolytes, succubi and trilobytes all get filed under JERKS. I dont know why or what to tell you, like i said i dont quite fit in. Not quite so well, see. Not with the sad souls, nor the jerks, not with the sentients, not the turks. I dont understand the lurkers, the succubi. Sometimes i feel as mundane as jug wine in an Italian held banquet, common as a loner house fly.

I mean… I feel… I am seen and considered known quantity. Ok yes, this is what i learned, this is where the rambling comes to fruition. You may wanna take the headphones out yer ears, jack, and give another listen to my track.

My first released EP, dubbed’ known quantity’ circa 2022, was about me but really about you! Girl? you there? I need your attention, even your angry stare. Cause yes its my monologue, its my story, whatever! I am telling you its about you, not me, you see? Believe me! Its hot! hot like fire!

No, no! where you going? No! dont say that! I swear im not a liar! im not being sarcastic. I love you and i mean it! Come back, i beg you please! This is critical, this is drastic. So i can flesh out the feeling that i voice, how i live my life yes, ‘free will’, but check the limits on the choice. huh? Now you’re coming back to me, now. Yes. Cause you love me, the Known Quantity in the space we inhabit. In Alice in Wonderland, i would most certainly be the Rabbit! In the Lord of the Rings? the hobbit! In the sanctuary where monks take and hold vows? the Abbott!

who am i?

I am a sugar pack.
(Not high fructose corn syrup)
I am your referee.
I am the witness to be called upon when needed.
I am the one you can talk to when no one else will do.
I am the algae eater in the glass tank.
I am the calm water below the surface of an ocean
stirred by storms.
I am a yardstick.
I am Switzerland in time of war.
I am the small talk that leaves your lips
when you are waiting.
I am the hardcover peeled dusty dictionary
cast aside.
And never cast away.
never cast away
finally i see
who i was
am
and always
will be

the one they cast aside
but may never cast away

so close and far away
so painful
you cannot mention
my name
in any company

and yet you set a place
for me
because im always there
with you

cast aside
and not away

you shuck off peels of carrot
and potato
you pull the hide
right off the ears
of corn

a thought of me
is like a thorn

and confusing
because you know
theres a rose
there

and you
like me
are

torn

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