The Alchemist

The magnetism between me and the Alchemist was instant.

Sexual deviation towards devilry as I delved into the darkness between her legs

as her erotic enchantment captured my hand and leaned me back;

black blindfold, sight slaughtered.

Burning desire rolled over my bare breasts and left a trail of rouge;

yet her warmth was not tender nor loving, but raw, earthly.

A sensual split as she clawed my back and licked the drips of blood

that seeped into the bed which was our place. 

I felt myself become an astrologer as I left my body and rose in starry bliss;

Magical longing; primal consciousness; 

Our energies combined, our spirits sang as it is in all and all is in us.

Time was alive as my fingers curled, my teeth bit into my open lips,
my back arched and my arms reached out in holy restoration.

Her incantation was irresistible. 

Cosmic forces worked effortlessly as we evaded time and entered a transcendent state.

Fate brought us together, past the phallic stage of our sexual evolution 

as what we felt replaced what Freud saw. 

A climax of witchcraft. 

An orgasm of obsession.

Fertile and free I knew that then she, the Alchemist, smiled

   

Women

She stood there, expectantly with her dress on the floor beside her curling toes. Her eyes were dreaming of this moment, the time chasing her in front of her bare chest. The clock on the wall watched her unravel her hair, ticking quicker in anxious anticipation of the drop of a bra which fell like a feather from the ruffle of a dancing bird in spring. The bite of a lip, blood drawing to the surface and painting her lips. I remembered that lipstick and its stains on my pillow, ruby scarlet. Naked. Rain dripped down window pains the day time stopped. Her shoulders loose, her breasts fair, her pearl hidden beneath smooth skin that blushed pink. Silence rippled down my legs. The day i forgot man, and emptied my pockets of rationality and society and the sound of a mans eager grunt. The chant of a mechanic act that i so often entered with the ease of my hips. Her hips. The curve i could run my fingers down. Women and woman. Legs tangled, lips spread, letters florishing in my mouth to break the silence with words. I love you. Her. Women. She stood there. You. Love. Legs. Left. Right. Round. Gasp. Scream. Split. Nails. Back. Yes. There. There. There.

Wedding cake

Your face is like a marzipan flower,
which opens before me, sweet and sculpted
into a delicate delight
that I cannot help but bite into,
into you.

The lace on the table is stained
as I place you on top to unfold you
and take you in my mouth
in an unorthodox anticipation.

But you are the flower on top of a wedding cake
I cannot reach and cannot touch
and cannot breathe.
I cannot have you, but I can admire you from afar.
I cannot taste you, but I can imagine you each day,
and each night in between sleep and wake,
and each morning before the clock rhymes a chorus,
each moment I can be holding you in my hand
in a dream.

Today.

I have had a major realisation in the past few days, an awakening.
I have realised that for the past 2 years I have been chasing happiness.
Chasing it in people, in places, in houses, in occupations, in friends, in lifestyles...
I have been trying to find external forces to make me happy.
Its always, 'if I had this, if I did this, if I was this person, I will be happy'.

No one, no thing, no place can make me happy without internal happiness.
I have not once stopped and looked within myself for happiness.
No, its always had to be something.
I need to start making steps to make myself happy, before circumstance.

I am suffering from heartbreak at the moment. Badly.
Its like someone has ruined all my dreams of 'love conquers all'.
Turning my back on love, well, its not like me. Its not me.
My heart may not be fixed the way it was before. It will have dents, bruises, scrapes that I cannot fix.
No bandage can hold it together.
But I know, I do know, that love will find me. And I when the time comes, I will be open to it.
I will be ready because I will have found happiness in myself.
I will find love for myself, and then, and only then, can I love once more.

I never knew life could be so difficult.

Heart

They say life flashes in front of your eyes when you die.
I feel that when a relationship ends, the same thing happens.

Good Morning Heartache

I am a whirlwind of intense emotion and I feel like my emotions need a severe weather warning.

A flood of guilt, shame, humiliation and anger.

A gust of regret.

Which can be shortly followed by outbursts of intense love, desire, passion.

And as we all know in England, these never last, and it is followed by a hard cold rain of reality which washes this all away.All this hope.

People tell me I need to not react to these intense feelings. To sit with them, for they will change.

But thats like telling someone in a blizzard not to put on a hat, when there is rain not to put up an umbrella.

I do not understand how they can expect me to sit here like a sitting duck whilst emotions drown me.

I literally feel like my emotions are killing me.

Also, I can never separate my condition, whatever they like to call it, with reality. What if I am damn right to feel these emotions? They aren't dramatised by my inner insecurities, but are real. And that I should react. I should do something. Anything.

What if this is reality?

If my relationship crumbles, I want to focus on myself. I want to explore who I am, what is my being, what is my core, the person I am and the person I want to be. I want to encompass myself and engulf myself in passion, but not with a person, with something I love doing, love being.

With all my past mental issues, I have never been able to do these things.

I have gone from child to anorexic, to bulimic, to manic depressive, to bulimic again, and then to a 'mother' and girlfriend.

There has been no point in this succession of events where I exist.

Is that selfish? Perhaps. But maybe, just maybe, that isn't a bad thing.

Intense emotions, I will wait for you to pass like the tide.

But I will not respond to you.

At least I am strong enough to weather the storm.

His eyes

There are moments when I see his eyes.
Like wolves, blue, cold, round and ever watchful.
Frozen. Empty.
I remember not just the shade or shape, but the emotion which sat beneath them
A hunger for the hunt. A fixation on his prey.
Stillness which brings shudders to my spine, as I knew what came next.
Silence, as his eyes narrowed on me. And I knew.
I knew then I would have to shut my eyes and pretend.
I knew that he was going to fuck me.
I knew that he was going to hurt me, in so many ways.

I remember the opening of a closet door, wrapped in darkness, tied till it cut me raw,
I remember them two, blue eyes appearing and I wished I could stay in there instead.
I remember feeling numb, like in winter when snow hides everything we love.
So numb my tears froze before they had a chance to melt upon my cheek.

These memories haunt me.
I was numb for years. I pretended every single day it never happened.
And now I remember.

I remember.

And I cry, to warm my heart.