A Room For A Night

She has just showered. Literally scrubbed herself almost raw in an effort to be as clean as possible. Why is it that she never feels clean anymore? She washed her hair three times before using the luxurious deep conditioner, leaving it on for longer than usual to ensure that her hair would be exceedingly soft.

She toweled dry, almost dry, using a pristinely white, fluffy towel and then stepped out of the shower onto the floor of the spotless hotel bathroom. She tossed the towel into the tub behind her and grabbed a fresh towel, wrapping her hair turban-like. She assumed the level of cleanliness in this place would far surpass those of others due to the exorbitant nightly fee. She padded naked into the hotel room, luxuriating in the feeling of cleanliness and warmth.

She had searched for a long time to find a place that fully met her requirements. It is rather difficult to find a hotel with white decor. But she wanted white: white towels, white linens, white duvet. White, white, white. Not so much a color as a lack of color. And clean. Cleanliness was critical.

She wandered over to her bag, removing candles. White, vanilla scented candles. Twenty of them, one for each of her years of life. She placed them around the room, lighting each one reverently, delighting in the heady warmth and scent arising from them. Finished with this task, she removed the rugs from her bag and placed one on each side of the king bed in the room. Moroccan crimson rugs, the contrast striking in the colorless room. Satisfied, she smiled and placed the last item from her bag in the center of the bed and turned off the lights, candlelight creating a warm, inviting glow.

She removed the towel from her hair, mostly dry now, and walked back over to the bathroom doorway, tossing the towel into the tub to join its mate. Her long raven hair draped damply down her back, caressing her scrubbed skin. Padding over to the bed, she luxuriated in the thick pile of the carpet underneath her feet. Oh, the joy of this night. Finally.

She arranged herself cross-legged in the center of the huge bed and opened the case she had placed there earlier. Removing the contents, she reflected momentarily. Such a shame really, she thought as she examined the brand new straight razor in the soft glow of candlelight. Such a waste of white and clean. But ultimately, ridiculously poetic.

Crimson on white.

Enough is enough.

A rope tightens around me,
dissenters dance lightly,
wildly,
turning, twisting, tightening,
needling, whining, annoying.
Some turn their backs,
some step back to consider,
some stare in horror.
In the middle,
wind whipping at my hair,
restraints tightening around me,
I stand.
Coiled tension within my muscles,
power coursing through me
connecting me from ground to sky.
They do not see,
they do not look.

ENOUGH!!

Finally, I snap.

With my last breath,
I inhale.
I gather all my power.
And then I let it all go.
I open my mouth to scream,
to bellow, to holler.
And miraculously,
my voice has finally returned.

ROAR!!!!!

Insanity

Conversations with myself...or with the voices in my head. These happen often and increasingly so lately.

I am increasingly aware of how outside of the mainstream consciousness that I exist. Does this denote madness or awakeness? I fear I walk a fine line of balance between sanity and madness, that I am walking a tenuous path. Why do I cling to sanity? It is merely defined by the mainstream and by those who seek to be 'normal'. It seems that madness would be a relief, a natural progression of things. That this would be an excuse for me to exist as I wish, to "Do what thou wilt" as I would already be judged as 'that crazy girl' and therefore my actions would no longer cause any type of surprise to those around me. Why do I care, I don't care...I cease caring. And yet, the duality within me, the everpresent existence cares; this I cannot deny though I seek to. I don't care, I do care, I don't care, I do care...neverending beating in my skull, pounding in my head. My bright eyes view the world in a new light every day. What to do? Who knows what the future will bring. More knowledge, more knowledge. The quest is neverending.

I fear to let go, I fear to reveal the true me. I fear that she will be uncontained, uncontrolled, brilliant. I fear that she will run away with me, that the part of me that lets go will injure the part of me in control. That she will not want to relinquish the freedom that she will be afforded and that I will never exist again if she takes hold. Ironic that my greatest fear is to be caged and yet I fear also freedom, ironic that I cage myself and refuse to let go. That I cling to control with all limbs, that fear of freedom pervades my existence almost as much as fear of cages. Iron bars wrapped around my essence, welded to my very skeleton, my very being. No wonder it is so difficult to let myself out...I have entrenched them so fully into who I am.

And yet, let go I must. Time, time, time...I have time, eons, and yet I have none. It flows through my fingers, grasping fingers...trying to hold on, trying to let go. It slips, it slides, and yet there are so many lifetimes after this one. Why do we seek to rush and yet to hold on, to hold back? We are such paradoxical beings. The sands flow, they ebb, they flow....

Perspectives

My perspective is a mask of sanity.
My sanity is a mask of perspective.
Yours, pushed upon me, forced upon me,
for your own selfish comfort.
Oh sure, I appear stable,
but push any button,
the facade cracks and light bursts forth.
Veils drop, stone walls explode.
My true face is revealed.
And I become
the stuff of your nightmares.

Walking the Knife's Edge

on beating wings, the pounding inside my head
threatens to explode through my fragile skull

that which I do not know,
which I cannot remember,
sits in the eye of the maelstrom,
arms crossed, smug smile
on the face of the unnameable

surrounded by light, swirling madness,
calm darkness, intensely hazy

the light shines, the heat warms, passion inflames,
the birds chatter inanely and sweetly,
a heavenly gift

and I let go,
surrendering to my descent into the sweet oblivion
that is madness

where truth and lies merge and enmesh,
where reality and unreality become the same beast,
where the line between good and evil is muddied
and uncertain,
where light and darkness coexist,
where life and death are indescribable and inseparable

wait, is that madness,
insanity,
or is it merely the awakening

O Faithless Pride

Painting a picture of beauty,
of hope, of wicked desire,
of wanton lust,
of duality fulfilled.
My other, twin of my nature,
keeper of my soul,
if such even exists.
Promises whispered of
truth and understanding.
And we, travellers both,
searching for knowledge,
for purpose,
insatiable,
unslakeable.
And 'tis a constant existing
restless and on sanity's edge.
Maniacal laughter bursts forth
from the bowels of hell
at the core of my soul.
This world knows us not,
welcomes us not.
Other worlds dare not.
And so we wander,
alone.
Our pride standing fast,
shadowing our destiny,
preventing our happiness.

Wholeness

The serpent lies coiled,
resides at the root of me,
ropes of red light,
ready to strike.
But not in malice,
nor in evil.
Rather in knowledge,
light and truth,
enlightenment,
awakening.
Light begets light,
shining brightly,
moving upward,
interconnectivity.
Red brightens to orange,
brightens to yellow.
Glowing from the center,
radiating strength and power,
craving justice.
Breathe green rays of
compassion,
understanding, love,
washing over the whole of me.
Sing truths from a sky of blue,
radiating, vibrating throughout
this flesh that is a gift.
Darkening indigo intuitions
allow insights and perceptions
of the spirit of creativity
to flow ever upwards,
ever downwards, ever outwards.
Culmination at a crown of violets,
soft, connected, at one with all.
Searching for the light in all.
And the truth, the wholeness,
it is within us all;
it is light and darkness,
it is energy flowing through us,
flowing out of us.
Connecting us with each other,
with the earth, with the universe.
What a blessing are we.

Sweet research...I seek to know, to understand. But it seems for all that I learn, for all that I read, there is more...just out of reach, teasing, laughing.

Oh, the irony...

He beckons, I answer.
Cocky, saucy, sassy
in my response.
Deliberate provocation.
And yet, it is natural
to bend, to bow gracefully;
to submit to his will.
For all my strength,
for all my control,
it is in sweet submission
that I find my freedom.

i live in a world
betwixt and between
alive and awake
sometimes waking dreams
'tis when i feel dead
that i start to wonder
why i exist in a world
of unpeaceful slumber
and in those moments
when there is a perfect clear
my destiny calls out
another decision is near

Missed

And tonight I laid here,
music on the radio tugging at my brain,
memories of you traversing my synapses.
Phantom arms wrap around me,
phantom lips kiss my face.
Remembering how you turned
the last time I saw you.
No smile, no wave, no words,
just goodbye.
And tonight I wondered,
did you ever cry?
Was moving on easy for you?
Did another replace me?
Do I ever cross your mind?
Do you miss our brief time?
I shed tears at the might-have-been.
Moving on has not been easy.
I'm still here, just me.
I think of you with a smile.
I wish it had been longer.

I will never forget you,
my heart will forever hold your memory,
I will forever love you.