Polarity #7


Every attempt at departure was met with resistance. Performance might not have been mandatory but attendance was nonnegotiable. He’d arrived in the deep end of an Olympic-sized swimming pool, that remained the most obvious route home. The first attempt was promising, a shimmer of light dancing on the floor of the pool, a vague otherworldly image that imbued him with a sense of hope. Two boys had drug him thrashing from the depths and deposited him roughly on the concrete deck, foiling his plans. Defeat and a week long quarantine in a white room had been his punishment. He’d been forbidden from using the pool. She had returned armed with propaganda but her charisma left him contrary. After her visit he gave up trying, did his best to earn some leeway, it wasn’t his nature to deceive but his words were dismissed as delirium.


“Where do you think you’re going?” The deep voice belonged to his roommate as did the strong grip accosting his descent.

“I’m going home…” He muttered voice violently wrenched from the pit of his stomach where it lay entombed.

“You seriously want to leave over some histrionic chit?” Turning around he faced his former mate head on. The face that greeted him was not the one his imagination conceived. He’d expected a hollow-eyed anger, a mutilated mouth cut into a vicious sneer but the eyes on him were clear and poignant.

“Why did you do it? You knew I liked her…” He said the question falling inelegantly from a pensive mouth. In the days following the breakup he had never sought his roommate’s story, could not even look at the other boy for it pained him to do so.

“She was mine before she was yours…” He could feel the other’s dark eyes burning through layers of protective dermis but it was not a malignant stare but a beseeching one.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asked if this was true then wasn’t he also to blame? Perhaps there had been signs?

“We were broken up you seemed like a good guy…I didn’t count on getting jealous…” The admission was coupled with a distraught smile. “She approached me…I missed her you get me?” He did get it and maybe he could even forgive it.

“I am not leaving because of her or you…I don’t belong here…this place is a prison…I might have had to live by certain standards in the past but I knew what they were and the rationale behind them….everyone here spends so much time faking freedom….” He said noting the change in his roommate’s expression and the sudden chill of the water around them.

“I am not like the rest of you…I was born here…my old man used to beat me up…when she offered me a place I accepted…turns out she is a real fucking psycho….you’re lucky she’s not been around much…I used to run away every opportunity I got but she always found me…she owns the whole city…” Though the words were whispered the venom and fear behind them was apparent.

“Why didn’t you take one of the portals?” He asked all rivalry at the moment forgotten.

“You don’t think I’ve tried that? Every portal has a key…she keeps the keys with her…that’s not a problem for you…since you’re a resident…all you have to do is approach the right portal with the intention of returning…” The thought of leaving the other youth here felt cruel though he knew not the depth of their self-proclaimed savior’s tyranny. He didn’t even know if he would be allowed to pass. His roommate was brutishly strong and 6’3 if the other adolescent denied him there was little he could do.

“Seeing as you’re the only one that she hasn’t managed to brainwash…I think I’ll let you go after all…” Relief was overshadowed by concern. No matter what resentment existed between them they had been friends, he could not in good conscious abandon.

“Why don’t you come with me?” His roommate looked surprised by the proposition, apparently the story have been more warning than entreaty.

“I should think you’d be glad to be rid of me…” The laugh that followed was wry but uneasy. “Are you serious?” The other residents were approaching rapidly there was no time for details or disputes they had to act.

“I am totally serious…” To illustrate his point he grabbed his roommate’s wrist and jerked him under the abnormally blue water.

(There is one more installment after this my dreams are monstrous lol)


Polarity #6


Seconds crept into minutes. Minutes wept into hours. Hours spiraled into days. Days bled unsealed into weeks. Weeks spun surreptitiously into months. His old life seemed to him distant, irretrievable. His heart ached, too tightly tuned to yield to grief. Music remained a source of inspiration, a clear iris amidst colliding tempests.


In the absence of supervision the residents fought continuously with one another. Each with their own means of embellishing violence. The atmosphere was fevered and uncertain, every step taken was in violation of some inscrutable farce. What had seemed at first a fierce individuality appeared now as posturings and affectations. He withdrew into her and she in turn embraced him, even that which stood, a monument to his anachronistic virtue.


His sobriety was a point of contention to some of the residents for they took it to be condescension. Others exalted him for his resistance to social pressure but neither view seemed to involve him directly. Caricature, opposition, deceit. He knew not to which paradigm they affixed his likeness only that his words and deeds never measured against it. A villain. A hero. He knew himself not in such black and white extremes. He saw in each man a vulnerability, guarded, resented, and preyed upon. He saw happiness assumed in jest. Insatiable was the illusion of freedom for it depended solely upon excess.


She held him, his love for her a panacea. He was willing to remain indefinitely. Until one day she betrayed him in a way that his heart was unable and unwilling to fathom. “What are you a monogamist?” She had asked, the final word drawing from her a smile of contempt and ridicule. Here was a question he’d never pondered for it had seemed to him quite obvious. He was and he had assumed she was as well. Had she not said “I love you” only hours before? She had never mentioned an open relationship and had assumed happily the titles that he had naively bestowed. What of his best mate? The other man knew well his feelings for he could not help but speak of them. Had the pair just assumed that he wouldn’t mind? That he would defer or perhaps even applaud them their secrecy (discretion)? If they had thought it natural why had they lied in the first place?


“I knew if I told you…you’d make a big deal out of it…” He would have because he would have known himself well enough not to enter such an arrangement. His heart would have been crushed but as it stood now he was completely devastated.


“Life is just a game right? You ought to loosen up a little…” He had loosened up but he would not become someone else entirely. Doubted that any of them had become someone else entirely for their reliance on parodies and pills.


“We can still have fun together so long as you don’t pull that morality bullshit on me…I get claustrophobic in relationships you know….” He wasn’t sure if she was telling the truth or if she had simply assumed the lifestyle in order to fit in. But standing there watching her fang-bearing smile flatline, he knew that he didn’t belong. More importantly he knew that he did not wish to conform to their despotic notions of authenticity.


We’re not there yet but we’re getting there it was a pretty long and involved dream haha I tend to have one dream that seems to go on the entire night or I only ever remember one. Today I turn 33 I love birthdays, the aging thing not so much haha

Prompt 23 Anais Nin Quotes


This weeks challenge is quotes by Anais Nin. I will offer five here but you are welcome to use others. Please specify either in the comments section below or somewhere in your post which quote(s) you used for inspiration. The quote can be a part of your piece or strictly the inspiration. As always you are free to submit multiple entries and as always you are free to express yourself in whatever method(s) you prefer. There is no length restriction on entries and I will read your entry no matter the length but I cannot guarantee that every participant will do so. That said I do ask that you read and comment on as many entries as possible. If you want to use multiple quotes that is perfectly fine. If you want to do a tribute piece to Anais Nin by all means free. You do not have to do a tribute piece and in fact do not have to mention her name anywhere in your piece aside from giving credit to her in your chosen quote(s). I do not censor and I do not ask that you censor your work but always make a note about rating or content if you feel it necessary.

On to the quotes


“Each friend represents a world in us, a world not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born.”


“I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naive or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman.”


“And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.”


“Love never dies a natural death. It dies because we don’t know how to replenish its source. It dies of blindness and errors and betrayals. It dies of illness and wounds; it dies of weariness, of witherings, of tarnishings.”


“There are very few human beings who receive the truth, complete and staggering, by instant illumination. Most of them acquire it fragment by fragment, on a small scale, by successive developments, cellularly, like a laborious mosaic.”

10 Blogs You Should Check Out


This list is not all inclusive! My intention is to do this periodically as a way of showcasing blogs that I love =) If your name isn’t on this list it doesn’t mean that I don’t love you or that your name won’t appear on a future list.  I did not limit my selection to other wordpress sites.

In no particular order

1. who could know then


2. Warning The Stars


3. Lisa A. Williams


4. Reowr


5.  Tarnation and Eudemonia


6. Color me in Cyanide and Cherries


7. B.G. Bowers


8. Elia Bintang


9. Helen Valentina


10. Arkadia


Diary Entry September 22 2013


I am immobile. Grim. My thoughts boil, dissipate, scald on inquiry. I can not adjust my moods to the indulgence of either obligation or whim. So I stoop, incongruous with a sustainable architecture. Contradictions define me. I am exhausted and vehemently opposed to the clock’s covetous hands withdrawing my youthful diversions. My habits offend me and yet I am fondly and inconsolably dedicated to their exploitation. The most significant discovery I have made in the past few months is that I no longer want to be unhappy. I understand unhappiness. The alternative remains incomprehensible. My mouth is a monument, grief-stricken but no longer frequented by superstition. It dips well below the horizon. I frown mostly and I’ve found that the face really does assume the angles most held.


My hair has started to turn grey. Not grey precisely. The hairs are hysterically white. My grandmother had a head full of freshly laid snow, immaculate and cohesive. I am 32, a red head it could be worse but I still find myself cringing whenever I see one of those albino imposters sprouting from my autumnal mane. Even if you approach life slowly, delicately it still passes by in an instant. I am not aging well, despite my good intentions, genetics don’t give a shit about my intentions.


I find that I cry less. That I spend less time engaged in preparations for war. I spend less time generating ulterior motives from happenstance. Some days inexplicably I even forget to hate myself. I realize that soon I will have to articulate my goals to a stranger. My goals have always been survival oriented. Get out of bed, keep breathing, feed, clothing optional/shower mandatory. My existence has been about maintaining a state of “not dead”. I want more than “not dead” but I am not sure how much more. I don’t think I need much.


I am not ready for real life friends. I just want to be able to go to the grocery without the comfort of my automatisms. For God sake stop talking to yourself in public it generates unwanted conversation. Contrary to popular belief talking to yourself while wildly flapping your hands does not discourage people from socializing. If anything it seems to encourage them.


As for jobs. I am at my very core an Anarchistic. I could not, would not, should not work in an office. I cannot drive or operate machinery and I cannot be responsible for a herd of living beings (except maybe plants). Being a surgeon is completely out of the question. I probably can’t watch a store because of the absence seizures. Whenever I think of working I think of all that I can’t do I am not sure if I am being pessimistic or realistic circumstances considered.


My seizures are very frequent. Speaking of which my seizures have actually gotten worse since the pneumonia. My pupils are asymmetrical more often than not these days. I am in a chronic mental stupor. Please don’t let this be a permanent change.  Is it even possible to work outside of home at my own pace? My pace being on par with your typical earth-dwelling mollusk. I couldn’t get any slower if I stood still and waited for the task to spontaneously complete itself.


My idea is to get a physically demanding job, something that would allow me to skip my daily exercise and that would be mechanical and repetitious (memory issues make complicated tasks impossible at the moment). Grave digging for example. Unfortunately I believe they use machines to dig graves which I cannot legally operate. I only want to work part-time in the mornings when I am at my sharpest. I want an apartment/house suitable for a three person family. Not a big space mind you as I have to be capable of maintaining the space in a habitable fashion. I want my bedroom door to close and lock! I want to have vocal sex! I want to be less self-conscious. I want to write poetry books and live with purpose. I want a functional brain, which might be the one thing I can’t have. I want the independence that comes from learning. I want to see a memory specialist desperately.


Today’s something different is letting you read my diary. I have no idea how to write a diary and so I can never figure out if I should pretend I am talking to an audience or if I should talk to myself. Diaries confuse me and to be honest I rarely write in mine which is probably some kind of criminal offense given that I am a writer.  I mostly pretend I am talking to someone else and so I weirdly explain things about myself that are obvious and that I already know. Diaries really confuse me and I think they make me sound insane lol




There exists

No greater fear

Then vacancy

What if

My ineptitude

Stemmed not

From inexperience

But from a lack

Of content?


You told me once

That my vocabulary

Was too big

To justify

That all love

Was a form of





A resident heart




What right

Did I have

To speak

Of happiness

When I knew

So little of her

What right

Did I have

To speak

Of moments

Not yet defiled

By a captious brain

When they stood

So few and far



That was the day

I put aside my pen

The day

That I decided


That I was nothing

I lacked

The confidence

To redeem myself

So I hid


I drank of hemlock

And in agony

My soul from eyes


Hence forth

I reside internal

Hence forth

A Judas

To my muse


I was inspired to write this after speaking to Bianca. Many many years ago before I had a blog when my poems were selectively and seldomly shared I received a critique that would stop me from writing for years. I had a friend I shared my poetry with regularly and for many years he was a great supporter of my work. Then one day I decided to write something quite different from my usual fare. I was quite excited about it because I felt that the only way for me to grow was to push myself out of my comfort zone and take on new challenges. He HATED the poem. His criticism went from the poem, to my worth as a human being. For several hours he questioned the very foundation of my beliefs, he said I was a phony. He did not like that I used vocabulary he was not familiar with and he felt that the poem was cliched and lacked emotional depth which led him to the conclusion that if I wrote it I was equally superficial. He’d read countless poems of mine before and had never criticized them for being superficial so I am not sure what led him to believe that in one day I had transformed into another person but that is precisely what he did believe. He truly believed I was a traitor. A person of depth was never happy and never could be happy that was the burden of genius madness and misery. I had fallen. The critique really hurt me because not only did our friendship take a blow from which it never recovered (he does not read any of my poems now and rarely talks to me) but it hit on my biggest fear, the fear that I had no emotional depth. All through my childhood I had been accused of being insensitive, cold, and emotionless. What if everything I wrote was cliché? Vacuous? What if I had no substance? No soul? Without substance I had no worth. I stopped writing for years. I tried but my confidence was destroyed I did not want to write pretty poems, I wanted to write meaningful poems. Everything I wrote seemed so empty. It was a very long time before I took the criticism and used it to strengthen my resolve as a writer. I hardly remember the years I didn’t write I became very withdrawn. I offer my poems to a much larger audience now as part of a resolve to be fearless at least where writing is concerned.

Thank You


The way

Your smile leans

Against my heart,

Keeps me

From losing



The way

Your eyes

Wrap around

My words

Reminds me

That I am not





You lift me up

As though

I were whole

As though

I were weightless


I fail





Your love

Is free

You are

The hope

That unlaces

My tragedy

The wind

That gathers

Me wild

From a serried



You made me


That I could be


Without inoculation

Or shame

You made me


That I could

Indite this muse

Even though

She scars on


Even though

I am too fragile

To unfold her



This is my way of saying THANK YOU for the friendship, for the encouragement, for the faith =) You can use Mr. Linky to share your own Thank You poem to you readers, friends, or family or you can simply share a link to your blog generally or to any entry on your blog that you feel like sharing.  If clicking your icon doesn’t link to your blog please share your link below because I can’t find some of you,

Prompt 19 Food


Food conjures up very different emotions/images/thoughts for all us

Starvation and poverty



Body Image








Eating Disorders

Food Service








Chocolate (ahem!)


You get the idea. This prompt is massive lol Pick one or more and run with it =) Pictures are also welcome!



Between the paving stones

Skinny bodies torn and coarsened

Overtake an indiscriminate sun

Even poverty dreams, even shadows

Dwell adjacent to divinity. Am I not

Human? My guilt-ridden bones retire

And aspire same as yours. If society

Disowns me, will I not wither in neglect?


Artifice would bid me leave, the blue

Heart of winter amidst artificial springs

Eel-tongued sycophants would cater my

Etiquette to suit recreant needs, never

Question, never think outside of trends

Let there stand only one woman and one

Man, of perfect symmetry. Peace manufactured

Through puppetry and masquerade

We have lost all sense of connection outside

Of imitation. I am aberrant, deviant, guilty of

Treason I surrender my heart to the unlit moon

To the mystery of eclipse, to the anarchy of my

Thrilling inquisitions. I will never become you but

If your arms should fall open I will welcome you

Into me, not in spite of the differences, not in

Spite of anyone or anything at all


I have a pile of poetry at the moment I did go to the country today all seizy and crazy as it were. I wrote a poem there too but I was outside at least lol I might make errors in my poems if you catch one let me know though my errors tend to be very strange like replacing coffee with wafer, caterpillar with turpentine the connections my brain makes no wonder I can’t access my memories!