I was waiting to be struck by lightning.

Here's to listening to The Lumineers "I Don't Wanna Go"

I am sitting here utterly prepared to convey and scream my love through these fingers that stream my soul. 

This is about my love, my dual spirit, my other end of the here and now, Kevin Pierre Tomanovich. 

The one who cares not for his middle name (which is French for Peter, though he is Italian).

 The one who wears the bands of metal upon his fingers that I bought for him celebrating another year, the year that he was born. 

So that he may catch the sight of them out of the corner of his sweet smiling eyes and be reminded of me. 

That he may laugh out loud because a good moment that we shared was brought to life at the sight of these mixed metals, that he might be overcome by it. 

So that these infinite presents may bejewel his magic hands and keep the current of his life source. 

So that he may enjoy them, I bought him those rings. 

Because he likes them, and wanted them; as I like him and want him still. 

I think of this boy, this man, trapped in a boys body, young in flesh and always in spirit, though coated in wisdom. 

I think of this soul, labeled Kevin in this life and I might think of how we re-labeled ourselves. 

Deep in thought about how we have been called Dallas and Kevin, without choice, before we were even breathing the air that we recycle now, and we studied each others faces calmly and patiently, scanning each others unsaid ideas silently. 

"Who would I be if I wasn't Dallas?" 

Would I be a Ruby? 

A Diamond, a Sapphire? 

Am I a Clair as I sometimes feel? 

Am I bound to be just a Dallas, or could I ever possibly be the Roxanne I once wished for? 

I think not. 

We thought hard. 

I stood to challenge a mirror for answers as he watched me; I only presume his eyes followed me admiringly as they do, soaking me up like rays feeding a reptiles skin. 

Giving health through the sight of love; energy vicarious through lust. 

I saw myself, un-Dallas, no Taylor, no longer McMackin and considered Gemma, Coco, Emmylou, Fiona, Victoria and Vienna. 

He commented that I was partial to the letter V. 

He paid attention to me in that moment, and so many more. 

I felt like home, with him, even in the midst of having no name. Even if at that very second I looked in the mirror and couldn't tell who I was then and there, I knew for sure I was His. 

I had no name, no label, no title to turn my head and respond to. No denomination of familiarity to  appoint as me. 

Just that feeling, of a small cold ribbon interwoven with my bones, that if you cut me open located and read, would "I am Kevin's. 

I know not my name, what I know is that I love him". 

We called me Daisy. 

Saturated in each others stares, our hungry gazes smiled and I slipped this new term on for size, easy and loose over my head like a pink, silky slip.

 I pulled that name on and smoothed it over my skin.

 I let it sit and felt it tangibly. 

 I let it stretch out to my size and shrink to my shape. And there I was, born again, his Daisy. 

I saw this man, this boy in part, strewn out across my bed, head rested on an emerald satin pillow. 

He lay and existed in the most, nonchalant, gentle form. 

Hands interlaced behind his head, black hair like a ravens wing, dark and smooth and with the same sheen. 

He does it in the mirror, that mirror I pocketed Dallas in. 

Kept here hidden away, yet close to my heart in a secret breast pocket. 

Gazing at each other, satiating our insatiable hunger for each other in the collapse of our lips in a kiss. 

Meeting, lip-locked, found and quenched. 

Rejuvenated through our closeness, in the waft of our sudden scents, mingling, and our skin warm to one anothers touch. 

Cultivating the desired end result; closeness and the calamity of passion swayed by sweetness shared. 

Breathing again, I let flutter open my eyes and the light of the world met me like the end of a movie when everyone in the theaters gets up and goes on their way, I could carry on. 

After this kiss was set aflame, burned, and died. 

His face parallel to mine, mirrored in our care. 

His sweet cream skin, thick with cigarette smoke and the smell of his sweat, pure comfort to me. 

Noticeable and different from all other memory making scents. 

Here he was, within fingers reach, rough khaki material dutifully wrapping his long legs. 

Black canvas boots haphazardly laced and strapped on to bear the weight of the world. 

"Who would you be if you weren't a Kevin?" I asked this beautiful creature, with an affinity to bring me joy. 

"Jack" he said. 

so assured. 

Jack fit like fingerless gloves on a seamstress in the cold. 

Like a glass slipper who'd made it home. 

Like a harmonica finding a blues-mans lips. 

The note sang Jack, Jack and Daisy. 

So we used this moment as another excuse to hold each other fast. 

Long and swept up in one another, new beings to that moment. 

The re-kindling of the people we were and still tucked away in a breast pocket, are. 

This woman that I am here sitting and typing this bit on the computer, is Dallas. 

Dallas Taylor McMackin as I write this. 

Dallas, conveying the stories that Ms. Daisy describes to me as she is lolled out in the breeze like a tongue rolling down the couch. 

Dallas, as I smile at the thought of Daisy, and swoon at the thought of Jack, sometimes known as Kevin. 

Beautiful we are, moments unwound and knots to be picked soon enough. 

There's a ribbon of love, a lavender ribbon encrypted with the proof of my love, waving wildly within the storm of my heart.

Singed on the tips; telltale signs of lightning strike encounters.

-dm

Go Bears!..

BlaAaAagh, soooo, I had another GRIZZLY BEAR dream again.. It's been quite sometime actually when it comes to the HAUNTING of my dreams and their freaky reoccurring ways.

So, last night my BEAR dream involved the cubs in it, like I usually do I saw the bear cubs first and immediately go into action mode because where there are cubs there is a big ugly mean mother..fucker. Fuckin' mother? Meh. Anyways, I see these cubs, and they seem moreee...teddy bear like, they just physically looked more like a teddy bear than an actual future evil giant grizzly bear that will inevitably stalk me in my dreams. Also, I was able to run inside without any SUPER close calls with mama bear, AND get all the other stupid innocent people whose lives fall into my hands, INSIDE the house so that NO ONE DIED! *phew* Also, in my dream there are always TWO bear cubs. Anywizzle, consensus: Dream NOT Nightmare. SO, I am prepared to, AGAIN, look up the significance of these 'swipe-your-head-right-off'' capable aminals in the DREAMWORLD.

Haha, wow so I am writing this current sentence at 2:53am the NEXT day. ANNYWAYS-BEARS! So believe it or not I actually DID look up bear's symbolism in dreams (not), I just got distracted during that same moment (believe).

Bears symbolize a multitude of things of course, and this is just a general interpretation (I mean we ARE talking about a dream here), but here goes. Bears are found to signify strength and honor. Usually, in a dream about or with bears, they often signify some type of habit (bears are habitual animals). They also can be a sign of duality. Or that you must hibernate on a thought for longer, or possibly gain some outside perspective on an issue before making a decision. They can also symbolize the very innate and raw protective nature of a mother bear.

I told Kevin about the dream in which that young grizzly cub was chasing me in circles and how I kept running and running and just barely making it through one door in my house just to try to survive running to the next and the next, and so on-as this ravenous, blood thirsty beast chased me, as if for fun, as if it couldn't wait to torture my frightened little soul. I told Kevin, about how somehow at one point I got just far ahead of the bear that I had time to slip behind one of the doors I went through. For some reason I had an orange and I rolled it out from the door to distract the grizzly and as it came lumbering slowly around the door frame, nose investigating the rolling orange, I came up behind the unsuspecting bear and slit its thought in one savage and poignant moment. And as my arm  finished the movement across the bears thought, I looked down only to see my dictator of an ex boyfriend heavy in my arms as his head rolled and hit the floor. There was no longer a beast chasing me, but this beast of burden I once called my lover wasn't chasing me with that familiar blood thirsty look in his eyes either. I've always loved that dream..haha it makes me smile to realize how actively my mind perpetuates surrealism. Asleep and awake. Or the other way around, some would argue we don't know the difference, but it's all the same thing to me. To me, my dreams are just myself communicating within myself without the ease of conscious thought because I am sleeping after all, and not therefore receptive to myself on a normal awake level. So this is where psycho-schematic processes bind together to communicate with me in a way where I am receptive to these thoughts, without having to be fully conscious. My electrical currents never stop, the temperature doesn't drastically change, I am still Dallas Taylor McMackin, except I double clicked 'hibernate' and shut my  mascara'd screens. I love how innate we are, I mean no wonder we are so analytic- we are so complicated, so complex and yet so in tune with everything else. We are at such oneness with ourselves until we give into that desire to analyze. But that's just my own analysis, so don't mind me ;)

3:33am- of COURSE.. good morning and sweet dreams world<3