Distain for the Reflection

Sometimes I get an overwhelming urge to peel the skin off and reveal contemptuous places locked inside of myself. There are times where the skeleton must be shown.
I made a disturbing admission tonight. It was odd how it came out because it did not seem like me. I was standing outside watching myself speak.
"Yes, I ate an entire pizza.''...''Well not exactly'', I murmured. Typically I do not get a response from that. This time I did. I think he saw for the first time how much I hated myself. I wanted to go in to it..tell him how long and for why but I purposely blurted this within a space I would not have to explain.
I am selfish-making him sleep on that.
I have a fervent venomous malice towards myself and what I have become. I wish to maul and cut at what I see in the mirror.

Brief Eternity?

It has occured to me that perhaps the only life after death is the genetic legacy we leave behind. Who are we without our minds? Without synapses firing and information racing along pathways that took a lifetime to cleave into a brain?
What is a soul....that deep unconscious core?
All on this planet share fundamental symbolism-archetypes. This is logical considering human brains are essencially the same. Human heredity is genetically closer than chimpanzees in the same country....and we populate the entire planet. The difference is experience.
Perhaps we are born with our ancestors experiences? Is it their genetic dispositions from which we inherit madness, genius, a taste for adventure or solitude ? Some of us a prone to dispondancy, others delight. Our reactions to experience are mostly unconscious, inherant habitual paths we travel. It is rare to encounter an individual that reacts to life consciously. Mostly, we just react out of one motivation or another that we never connect to or begin to understand. At times these schemas seem to seem to run deeper than one lifetime. Perhaps past life memories are just the experiences of our ancestors. Experiences that were pivitol to their development , now run through our veins. Does that affect the way we experience the world?
What are without these fragile bodies woven by every moment from cradle to grave?
So many questions....always more than answers....
There is a genetic legacy woven into every cell in my body.
I carry a brief etenity inside my skin.
maybe....???

Gossip

I have become the topic de jour. A mecca of gossip to project their own interpersonal ineptitude upon. All the psuedo-analysts think they have found my root when they do not even know my birth.
Each person I encounter gets a different face. Lately those faces have become incongruent. They crash against my skin, colliding with my soul. I feel eaten alive as people come to consume me.

The woman no man could hold....
I an lost, pulled asunder
wrought by metal and shame
there never was a me, only they
Plucked long ago with little left
I am alien and want to go home
My madness only an imitation
of someone I used to know
My kingdom is treachery, a great gulf
where I lurk at the bottom
Where is my queen-for the kings are corrupt
There are holes in my soul
My skin is the night sky...

Catacomb

Last night I awoke from a startling dream that nearly choked me.
I was standing in a field-rather a verdant bowl in a dramatic valley enclosed by magnificent peaks. It seemed ideal. It is place I often go when I dream. Of my soul's landscape, this place is one of my favorites. Open and able to contain so much possiblity. Rolling down the mountains came a wall of menacing dark stature. It closed in until it was around me tight as an abandoned mine shaft. The skies darkened over my catacomb, followed by sweeping thunder I could feel beneath my feet. An image-a semblance of light emmerged from the wall. It was Julian-though he was grown. Next the face became Nico-also as an adult. This figure came in closer merging now into my father. Successively, this man changed before my eyes into all the men I have known in my life,flowing backwards through time. Each moment was punctuated by the way each man filled the room. Some were kind, reaching and entreating me into their loving arms. The next man would be sinister and heartwrenching, clawing at my skin and spitting venom. I close my eyes to shut out the shifting man who changed his demeanor to fast too fast to process. Though now, the sensations intensified. I smell this man wrapping himself around me. I feel his hot breath on my neck. Here in the sepulchre I hear him murmuring under his rancid breath...'' Pretty thing'' , ''You are mine'' , ''Why do you make me do this?'' ......He is inspecting my body-pointing out my flaws. He laughs and fumbles at my small breasts-says it's obvious I want him, that my nipples give me away. His hands are abrupt and rough, totally opposite from his gentle almost charming voice. His disgusting intent is all dressed up in a respectable suit and matching smile. His repellant lies permeate every space. My hands are now tied. I cannot see, even if I want to, with this blindfold. I feel daggers and probbing all over that liftes and pushes me against the jagged wall. There is a burning fire between my legs as he crashes into me. Wave upon wave, each blow more perverse than the other. That steady pleasant voice bidding me to trust him, to want him, to love him... He is laughing at my corruption as I hear footsteps and another voice. This new man's presence added a demonic weight to the room. The earth groaned beneath him. When you cannot see your eyes become incorperated into all your sences. This primal way of seeing gives smells a shape. Sounds become lifeforms. Creature from cruel worlds invaded and conquered my body. They are uninvited and pissing in all my corners-making my territory their own. I feel steel against my throat as they conspire an attack. ....

..will have to continue. This dream has triggered too many memories, some of them new.

Captured

I swallow a little death everytime I let you touch me. Each moment of surrender is exquisite torture. Your words meaningless~ I listen to your murmured passion and your eyes hit me like a slow moving bullet. Your mask keeps tripping under your feet. You feed off my glory and implore me to speak just to hear my voice. I run over you like a sweet wind down your spine, pulling you in and breathing you out.