some words

cowgirl with a blog

[plumslices]

Preserved Insect nails by @ srorrim.mirrors on IG

[0rganix]

my body is sludge 

i drag it around all day and leave a trail of debris wherever I go 

I eat clean girl aesthetic for lunch 

always skipping breakfast these days

a handful of vitamins and a prayer, 

that tomorrow I’ll feel weightless

like a dandelion seed 

the ones my grandmother called weeds

the ones we pulled at for hours in her yard—a secret garden 

I’ve never been able to find it again, even with the address 

am i awake or am I dreaming

her hand on my shoulder

am I dead or am I living

“alive alive alive” she whispers 

maybe tomorrow will be different

if only I could figure out

how to move 

[0rganix]

i wake up to blood in my mouth

ive been biting my lips in my sleep again

i roll over to a grey sky and realize

the earth doesn’t feel good either

it’s raining again 

it’s been raining for days 

the blood left a stain on my pillow

i strip the evidence from my bed and think about how long ive been doing this

the white knuckling i mean 

tightening my grip

coaxing control 

but it a way i hope no one will notice

bloody lips wrapped around a smile that

i hope is a blinding distraction

im okay im okay im okay--no one knows

maybe I will be okay, someday just not now

we don’t deserve it yet

i’m paying for my sins

sins that I can’t even remember

sins that were not mine to begin with

sins like i am my father’s daughter 

and his father’s granddaughter

sins that are my blood line 

the secrets wrapped in my skin

the sickness they left on me

the one i am so fearful of I’d rather not live just in case it has me too 

im not one for binaries but, there are two kinds of people they say, and I hope I’m the good one. ive only ever wanted to be good. 

[0rganix]

some days

some days i write nothing at all. it just all stays in my head, i wonder if that’s why some days it feels so heavy. like 90 lbs of solid skull teetering back and forth on my neck bones. some days i wish I could put my skull down. not in the way you do by laying it on a pillow, but physically removed, placed in a soft and quiet place just to find some relief. i tried the chiropractor, but i think he liked the curve of my back too much. i felt the way he looked at me: a project he could not wait to fix-- and the storm of butterflies climbed up my back like pinpricks. “if you stop coming, you’ll spiral into a horrible depression” but i wasn’t interested in his pyramid scheme to happiness. and that’s always the problem, my compulsion for transparency over ignorant bliss. i can’t not turn the key to bluebeard’s forbidden door, no matter how much the it bleeds once I’ve done the one thing I have been forbidden to do--ask the questions that pry at the truth. but i can’t stop. this is the quest back to myself. once the split of my psyche recovers from the infatuation or lust or whatever overindulgence she finds herself mixed up in. she carefully mounts her horse in preparation for the long journey home, again. and just in time for her screaming heart’s execution.

some day, i will learn. but today is not that day.

[0rganix]

i sold my JC boots this morning! woo-hoo! part of me is sad, but that’s just the part of me who wants to hoard all of my possessions for fear of never experiencing their joy again. it is okay. she means well, but she often forgets that cleaning out the old inevitably makes room for something shiny and new. and we love shiny & new here. or just new to us. i love the idea of investing in pieces you love instead of finding the fast fashion version, and then turning around and selling it lightly used. i think of the difference as the price i paid to rent and enjoy the items for a while. this helps me take care of my things better, as I have a tendency to wash things wrong or leave them in the back of my car for an eternity. this will also, slowly, help me to not be so cluttered. to look at something i love but never wear and send it off to a more attentive owner. love that. love love love

[0rganix]

i love the sound of birds in my ceiling. there is a lady-bug on my window pane, the second i’ve spotted in the last two days. the first was on a tree where i park my car. today is arguably the perfect weather. it is clear and blue with some fluffy clouds. it rained last night so there is that fresh crisp air that summer’s in new england do not typically provide. i’m hesitant to say it is summer and then realize it is june. i feel like the last time i checked the time it was 2019. i was always checking the time then. how many hours left of work. how many days until I get this or that is paid off. how many months until my birthday. now i’m pleased to share that there are treats in several moments of every day and i am no longer obsessed with the time. yes, i still get excited for things but not with the same painful yearning. i’m not deciding if that’s a good or bad thing yet. i don’t think it has to be either. like anything, it has it’s moments. i think what has changed is that the present moment is no longer insufferable. i don’t have to wait for a trip to find some relief in every day life -or- i no longer entertain a life i feel like i need to escape from. i recognize both the privilege along with the hard work and sacrifice. i know that younger version of me would be wildly jealous of the current timeline. but pleased to know that her’s at least means something. that eventually someday she too will join me here, too.

[0rganix]

today I woke up feeling energized. I went to get breakfast and groceries for the rest of the week. hopefully. i love those little trader joe’s protein cups. so yummy. it is a beautiful mid 70s day in worcester. clear skies and a nice breeze that reminds me why i love new england this time of year. particularly love the smell of heat. today i am wearing a bikini top, bike shorts, and my favorite zip up sweater. this feels like a soul uniform. ready for the beach at any given moment, but also equally prepared for a nap. my friend is coming to co-work today and that will involve some work, but mostly introspective conversations about everything from celebrity gossip to personal shadow work, to whether or not that man really murdered his wife on the new netflix special. the best kind of friendship IMO. my offer was accepted on poshmark for this beautiful lil vintage victoria’s secret slip. it’s perfect. now to sell some of the clothes i no longer wear. the aritzia leather pants that were never really me, the red jeffrey campbell cowboy boots that are to die for, but hardly worn. i love a good barefoot moment. other than that catch me in birkenstocks or gym shoes. or uggs. when it comes to footwear im in what’s comfortable and not heavy. i want to feel free. i want to be fucking barefoot. 

[0rganix]

my mind, body & soul are a gift and I should treat them as such

there are times where I just want to get rid of everything. every single tangible possession. the black HM dress, the small owl succulent holder made out of concrete. all of my mail. the four pairs of identical ripped jeans that hang on my body, all the same. sometimes I want a clean slate. a new identity. i have a hard time figuring this one out, anyway. some things would scream for me to hold onto. if i toss the birthday cards, the congratulations, and get wells would the love still exist? my grandmother wrote “keep up the good grades so you will be granted “A” scholarship.” would I still remember her gentle motivation or her pride in me if I did not have a physical reminder. im not sure i’d forget entirely, but i would hate for the memory to fade. sometimes I look around in wonder, how did I accumulate all of this stuff. I wonder if my internal world also has a lot of stuff in it. it must, if you think about it. all the memories, reactions, feelings. the first time a boy pointed out the hair on my upper lip or hurled an insult because he felt emasculated or feared connection. the first time a boy broke my heart because he was too scared of his own. the first time my father left and resilience was born. these things lounge lazily about my body, in my hips, throat and tummy. I feel them all each day when I wake up. they slosh around and set fire to themselves when they hear someone perceive them. this quiet rage, the underbelly of the beast claws his way through my teeth just to say hello again.

[0rganix]

i am smoking a joint in my kitchen with granite counter tops and stainless steel appliances with beautiful wood floors, hammered together by hand and sunlight peaking through the space where the A-frame allows windows plants hanging all over—fighting for a spot in today’s sun my dishwasher is running no, i have not hired a dishwasher but a machine that washes them for you I am listening to soft music it dances out of the speakers of my MacBook and around the room, it twirls with the smoke hanging above my head I own a MacBook it feels like a question who do I owe for that who do I owe now that i’ve acquired everything I’ve ever wanted will it ever feel like it belongs to me

[0rganix]

it doesn’t matter what the reason is

1. you’re not good enough 2. he’s too busy 3. he’s just not that into you

stop watering men who refuse to grow with you

stop bathing in lukewarm lovers

stop searching for answers to questions you’re too afraid to ask

letting go is the best way to love yourself

and you desperately need to love yourself.

[0rganix]

pensive, she sat waiting for her modern-day prince charming, one who existed only in fictitious fairytales; longing, hoping she settled for second best who was in it for much less than her love

[0rganix]

Take him because my name is still on the tip of his tongue his hands still reach for me his eyes still search for mine the taste of me, it lingers in his mouth every declaration of love starts and ends with me so take him take the little bit that I’ve left of him the scraps and the pieces because I’ve kept the best part of him and he doesn’t want it back

[0rganix]

write every day. even just a little. this is how you find yourself again.

[0rganix]

I have tried to write it out of me, but every pen turns to sand between my fingers and I keep forgetting what I have to say–

so, before the hourglass turns again–

remember the night I tried to articulate the hole in my chest?  like the tangible weight of emptiness  a sinkhole

and instead of understanding you spoke in metaphors and tried to finger me through my sweatpants  and I let you 

I let you convince yourself that you had convinced me I was a very special  (if not the most special) trophy on your  very special shelf of slam pieces. 

Shiny, and most importantly silent, unassuming, without opinion or need or preference for the way you used me– just your dirty laundry, waiting to be washed again.

I pretended my clit was located somewhere on my left thigh as you diligently buried my attempt at feeling again I pretended to like the way you stumbled through my anatomy like a blind man reading a roadmap to heaven 

and when you looked at me I thought– maybe you could love someone like me, while never once considering if I could love someone like you 

because I already did

like every broken person I ever meet  you are him a thousand times with a thousand different faces, but  always the same name lonely

[0rganix]

It’s been a while but at least my body parts have stopped reminding me of you

the valley of my hips no longer flash images of your cracked knuckles the way your fingertips dragged fire across my skin

when I wanted you so much it hurt when my heart shattered so much my hands bled putting it back together again and again

how could I have stayed in a house where I was welcome with no place to sit

this morning I dreamt of the reasons you could not love me

was it my chaos or maybe my hair always stuck in your sheets or the way I made you feel “those things” you weren’t ready to receive

the way I settled into your bones and whispered love into your hollow chest

you couldn’t stand to let the light in— accustomed to this space you built in the darkness In your routines and your quotas

who was I to tell you any different

[0rganix]

In a church full of people, none of them holy, I stood next to you and believed I was lucky. and that day I was, you see– the truth revealed herself to me like a bride on her wedding night unfolded into exactly what I had prayed for clarity and like any good drug, I fiend for more just once more, like this time is the last time, I’m sure one more red flag until I throw up the white, maybe then I will remember where I left my self worth put down the excuses the ones I’ve been nursing like a newborn the what if’s and the maybe’s and realize that there are no mistakes, only lessons, sometimes painfully learned. no love lost, just wisdom gained what is the word for losing someone and realizing you still owe them an apology? like giving too many chances to the wrong man like loving the right one at the wrong time, and then running out of it at least you gave me the words– I set the rhythm at least I can still sing.