#weareallhypos

There is no end to the hypocrisy of the human heart.

That’s all for now.

(Mic drop?)

#itsallcomingbacktomenow

Remember way back when,

when it was easy to write and create 

and let stuff flow. 

And then, 

I got distracted by living outside 

of words. 

I left my comfort zone for 

flesh 

and 

blood. 

Also, I found love. 

Still got it – 

kind of a record. 

Who knew brown eyes and lots of Cribbage 

could make me forget about 

my other love? 

I found someone who 

got my brain. 

And He he listened about “thou” – 

big deal. 

But I’m inching back 

to words, 

to my pen, 

to the thing I loved 

before I loved 

those big brown eyes. 

 

Exam Room 24

It’s been a while, but I’m still here. For your reading pleasure – my try at flash fiction:

 

Exam Room 24

“I don’t like how men smell. Or really, I don’t how it smells. And how I smell after.”
The nurse looked up from her clipboard, but didn’t say anything. The young woman in the hospital gown continued speaking, either forgetting that she wasn’t alone or not caring.
“They’re always so shocked when I say anything – like they don’t think they smell bad. Like they think it would smell good. And it doesn’t go away quick either. Not even after a shower.”
“What is your name?”
The young woman didn’t make eye contact. “Emily.”
“And your last name?”
“Bronte.”
The nurse sighed quietly. “I’m going to need your real name.”
The young woman frowned. “They said it was okay to use fake names though.”
“That was the counseling hotline. This is different…we’ll need your actual name.”
“Can’t I just be her for a little bit? Just a little?”
The nurse stretched a smile on her face. “Sure, Emily – for a little bit. But eventually….”
“Yeah, I know.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“You mean did he force me? Don’t they all in some way though? Force it? The others were nicer about it, made it seem like I wanted to…made it seem like my idea sometimes. And most times, I probably mostly did want to. But it was always their idea before mine. And I always knew that, but I went along anyway. I’d pretend that I was all for it, and they’d pretend to call again.”
“But this time?”
Emily glanced down at her fingers. “I broke a nail, I think. Doesn’t matter, I guess, since the paint’s chipped on all of them.”
“Emily?”
“Yeah, this time he was just more upfront about it. I said no. Or, I think I did. I wanted to. I tried to pull away. He hurt, in general, you know? It was rough and he didn’t care.”
The nurse stopped writing. “I’m sorry, Emily. I’m sorry for him. For all of them, but definitely for him.”
Emily shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to talk about it again, huh?”
“A detective’s waiting to take your statement.”
“About time to stop being Emily.”
The nurse smiled gently. “Maybe after the examination. That okay?”
“Sure. That way someone else is being poked and scraped.”
“I’ll be gentle. Promise. Now, lie back please and we’ll get this done as quickly as possible.”
Emily’s chestnut hair fell over the back of the examination table. “I hate how they smell.”

Mostly a Free Write

Disclaimer: “mostly free write” means that I corrected typing/grammatical/spelling errors

I think things are changing and I’m not quite ready. But who ever is? Who sees change charging down the path like a Clydesdale on steroids and says “hooray – I was hoping this would happen”?

But I also want the change. I used to joke that my Native blood kept me restless – since my people (Pawnee) were nomadic, then it was in my nature to be also. Kind of like my fascination with buffalo. I think they are beautiful and majestic and unique. I can see a picture of painting of a buffalo from across a room and I will make a beeline for it. Maybe I just like bison, but I also like to think it’s something in me…my Native-ness that pulls me to these animals.

So I want the change, but not quickly and all at once and right away. I want a few more days in my comfort zone. I thought I had shaken its bonds loose a week ago, but I can feel myself being drawn back.

My zone has a person. It’s a he. We’re not “together” now. Used to be, and it was wonderful and painful and weird (good way) and stressful. Now we’re just friends, but he calls us peas in a nutshell (since peas share the pod with other peas and we are unique to each other). I want away. I want to stay. (I greatly dislike rhyming). I want to not feel like I am going to miss him when he goes home after a night of chili and Clue.

I think change is coming mostly because I feel the space between us. It’s kind of exciting, but I also cringe to think of being somewhere where he isn’t.

Done for now.

mea culpa

I’ve been terrible with not posting. I miss this space and how I can dump anything here and not be (openly) judged. I appreciate that you are out there and reading my rants and actually liking some of them. Thank you. I’ll be better with this.

Longing

Remember when life was simple

and all we did was enjoy our freedom,

churning our muscles

and begging the wind to give chase.

You were so beautiful in your fury and glory,

matted sweat and thick blood

from centuries of warriors crowding

to give life to your heart.

Too much time away from

dirt and clay beneath your feet

has tamed you.

Forget your civilized self

and let the stars lead you home.

cake wars

Ever have to choose

between two of your favorite desserts?

They’re almost the same thing –

cake pops and store bought birthday cake.

Both make you feel so great

when you have them.

You want both, crave both.

They’re almost the same,

but the cake pops make you bare your soul,

know your heart,

and can sense the slightest change

in your voice.

The other one has potential and is nice.

So nice.

But it doesn’t know your soul

like the cake pops do.

But it also hasn’t broken your heart

and put you through

months of emotional turmoil.

The birthday cake is just really nice,

and really stable.

But it doesn’t sing your tune and know your heart.

But it could, if you gave it a chance.

Everyone likes birthday cake,

especially you.

But you love cake pops.

And you can only have one dessert.

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