musings

My name is Bev. I am a fairy lost in a forest of themes and metaphors. Come play with me. >>My poetry/writing

[inhisbelly]

[inhisbelly]

Asthmatic Family

Early breaths are curious acidic vapors strained by cactus spines  manipulating my cilia  and forearm hairs from underneath under god's punitive eye.

A cry, a cry a cry inside I dismiss like a mother  fleeing a safe haven site. For my own always mistook sobs for the collapse  of a sitcom character's manufactured ego and the stench of torment for a burning stew.

A concrete face Gives off no discernible frequency But my fingernails look like his And once we swayed like familial trees  close and consequential constructs And now we are dissonant chords Echoing through museum hallways housing photos of our blanched faces.

Day's last present breaths Are mentholated defeat. The string's anchors have grown weary by now (I have grown weary of attempting disarmament) And if they release,  I will watch them float like balloons Into a false sunset landscape where kevlar children don't weep  and there is never a want for sleep.

[whiskeywrites]

[inhisbelly]

Having a night of ice cream, introspection, and stomach ulcers manifested by the power of daddy issues.  w00t

[inhisbelly]

Yesterday's sky

[inhisbelly]

The Crazed Fisherman

Part I: Paint/Bait

I have painted myself  the colors of a country club pomp  --only, one who is troubled enough to garner your sympathy.

I have a Smith and Wesson and a misery as rich as chocolate mousse --as my parent's apology for piano recital absences and their seething disinclination for hugs  manifested in a pretty trust fund.

Girl, you will come to love me for the oracular rhetoric that falls from my well-trained lips. You will flip my shirt tags down and fall into my roaring spiral, and I will ritualistically kiss  your photographs before sleep, and you will gain only the slightest understanding of my depravity in purloin glances at the river beds  in my knuckles and the thinning  spots on my head that seem to have been sanded down.

I will reassure you with "respected boundaries;" smiles; open doors; romantic sermons; gestures of a love I never learned in the first place.

Part II: Tumult/Hook/Stillness

Act I was not enough to fill you, to quell your intuitive self-- that fucking bitch. She white knights you away from me. You say you need to "rehome" and to "reach out."

I am your home  and I am your branches and you are my sidesaddle damsel, always. Don't you know? Stupid girl.

I'll echo your concerns  with those well-trained lips again. I'll still kiss your photographs and write your name across my chest and call your work place so that you know that you are the presence caught between my every breath. Part III: Reverse Reel/Meal

I have a yacht and you are crystalline in your fragility and naive in your youth. I will seize you with my pincers and drop you into the salty vastness of unknowing and you will know how much you hurt me before your last show: a dance of sea urchins and catfish and waste.

I will jump ship after this bottle of whiskey covers me with its protective blanket of warmth, and we will at last become one. We will rule the environs of the ocean ground. I will fashion you garments made of  coral and lost treasure and you will finally tell me  that you are home.

[inhisbelly]

Feline quests are not unlike our own

The tuxedo cat creeps on leaf skeletons, gazing wistfully at the grass across the way. No, not wistfully--calculatingly-- judiciously, lurking closer and closer to the haven of sweet, flying insects-- the ones so abundant and unruly  in the hot months.

Metal monsters interrupt  his reverent quest with impunity, slowing and sputtering, the other monsters inside their cage bellies boorishly tossing out words that bite, not tenderly, like his mother's jaw clenched  at the nape of his neck on her daily treks. Instead, they bite like fleas-- small, toxic forces that serve to incense the delicate ecosystem of his skin while he slumbers.

"Nevermind that," says the cat. For he knows the entrapments and the weak beasts of this domain and has planned his quest to the fecund lawn across the way. He has known each quest  and approached it with salivation  right from the stormy moment his mother, bedgraggled and tired,  relieved him of her grip and said  "GO!"

[inhisbelly]

I misplaced my compass last night

I’ve never been fond of seclusion, But today, it seems we’ve made friends. O’er my ego bloom violet contusions As my view of reality bends. I can't navigate this dark street— Both metaphoric and geographic. With molasses enshrouding my feet, I’m helpless to dodge oncoming traffic.

[inhisbelly]

I sit on weathered chairs  and peer at telephone lines and Arizona horizons and hear the cacophony of dogs barking at each movement  of today’s embrace and long for amphetamine-fueled  inspiration when kindling a FIRE presupposes a force  of scalding power.

I lay cheap linoleum on  hardwood flooring  on earth  on starved roots like a rotting onion  and wonder why I hear the wind whistle through my stomach.

Today I will feed you  in bites that accommodate the  appetite you’ve been taught by each monsoon  and the one that you knew  when your vessel was transparent and too small to perceive  the baritone grumbling of the ages.

[inhisbelly]

Beer I Throws me into  Timid conversation-- Rattling off platitudes  And shyly smiling Suggesting a kind of  Innocence

Beer II Elicits a tingle So slight  My smile wider And words more fluid Building friendships I'm wise enough to know Aren't real

Beer III I didn't mean to drink you I swear But the nice man  With technicolor hair Insisted My body's swaying now And shaking with laughter At stories I'd never find amusing Otherwise.

Beer IV I'm gasping at the moon now How it seems to illuminate everything So perfectly And the jukebox has me going Though I claim I'm no dancer

Beer V Fumbling about, The sadness hits like a freight train And I just want to lean into it alone At home Pay no mind to swagger And kindly hand me back my keys, Please I'm fine I'm fine I'm fine

Beer VI Has  my key thief pinned  Against the brick I can't tell if he's handsome  In this low light Convinced that if we just  Persist in this battle of tongues And hands No attention paid to method  There won't be time to think of yesterday And the knot in my stomach will release Until tomorrow

(I am so grateful to be clean and sober today)

[inhisbelly]

Your broomstick hair antennae were startlingly long,  with an offensively oblong abdomen  to match On an early morning I feel so small The juxtaposition

of your quiet uncaring  or unknowing (for I have never been a cricket; I am not qualified to  speak on your sentience) and my shrill cry like teenage melodrama (with floral housedress  and little feet to back) were a play for an invisible  Presence

So think of your exit-- Your thorax smeared into the  address panel of a bathroom magazine as grand Because these delusions  are more soothing and artful  than being at the wrong place at the wrong time.  

Who am I trying to console again?

[inhisbelly]

Sick with dissociation this moment, Hyper-realism the next. Sick with the knowledge that I only stay at these houses, That I am never home; Sick with the appetite for a strange current. Come, stir up my feelings. Come twist up my underwear 

I'll smile and moan so sweetly you'll land In the fourth dimension And stay for 10 weeks.

[inhisbelly]

I don't know about you guys, but I am in the building and I'm feelin' myself.

Days of confidence are a rarity so I'm going to embrace this feeling.  Happy Topless Tuesday.  Go love yourself.  

<3

[inhisbelly]

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Recorded this little a capella ditty this morning.  Getting my creative spirit back.  Tomorrow is 30 days clean.

[inhisbelly]

Today I choose life!

[inhisbelly]

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Enjoy my shitty musical account of the last three nights of my life.  

[inhisbelly]

I lay on oriental landscapes and love with all the might  I don't possess. With ardor I will drive daggers on plump digits like  defunct bayonets into the eyes that never once burned into me with the right power. I will make you love me.