rock hard.

"How Hard Is It To Love Someone"

How hard is it to love someone?
To stay feverishly in the wake of it all
Together,

How hard is it to love someone?
Wouldn't it be easier if you'd cupped your hands together too? 
to find the pattern in the tears we catch.
Or do our hands differ too much?
Is this such a dexterous job of self-that which I have scheduled too many workers to, without even the means to pay them?

How hard is it to love someone...
Because of, and despite it all?

Easier it is to give your love away, I've sadly found;
than it is to fight to keep it your own.
That which we were born to accept.

How hard is it to love yourself?
The question is,
Why do I resist fighting for myself,
and wonder why no one else can?

In The Meantime.

ohhh fingers, how we'e missed writing eh?
A good ole war moie wil get you shivering and jonesing o splurge and purge huh Dal.

SO! muuuuch to say... and no willingness to fucking go there yet. I'm gunna pull a "Thomas" and soldier on. No pun intended. This is all life and death I'm pretty sure, and knowing myself I need atleast 3 days to process my reality; at least thats been the case my whole life.

I've returned to this slightly surreal lightness, where I'm comfortable faling up in my weirdness, bouncing around off the cracks in the sidewalks. I've got some goals, and I'm reaching them within normal timeframes, Odd. Im so human sometimes, it's a trip. I don't know what I THOUGHT I was, but thank God I can write in all my questionable moments as well. Josh is here. I miss that motherfucker.

I think the truth is I'm not weighted with who I've BEEN in Portland, nor trying to maintain some heroine facade for the public. I'm sorry loves, but you all can lovingly go fuck yourseles if you don't like my fucking flavor <3 I'm not as angry and hateful as I've always been, and I'm a far cry from the Walking Dangerfield Dead I'd surrendered to there for awhile. I'm alive again. Hurt, but not cornered. Cautious, but not paranoid. Any more...I'm on a conscious 2 week stall from that mind frame and insanity. I think 4 months will be more aper po but 2 weeks is a good fuckin' start.

p.s.: "golden light" by STRFKR

I'm ashamed and helpless at times when I realize how needy I've been when it comes to the dark part of life. I don't run as fast as I used to, and I don't hide as deeply, but there have still been those moments this last week where life bitch slapped me with what was, really, a beauitufl, freeing, hurtful realization that I have experienced two times too many. Maybe more.. oh yeah-I'm a fan of forgetting too haha. I slipped on my shades, and a beanie over my eyebrows, cursed the flourescent lighting and slipped into the night on back to a place my parents call "Home". I'll be free on my own soon. I can't wait to miss them. Fuck it, who doesnt like to miss what we love right? The whole fucking world apparently I've learned recently. I guess I'm learning a bit about that shit right now.
But I can breath for the first time in months, fuckin' truly, and it has nothing so much to do with the specifics of my situatuon. It's so much more of the simple, basic fact, that I cause my own sufffering. And I tend to assign long terms for it. I'm on break right now. Like I said, me and paranoia are on a two week parting of ways. We like to miss what we love the world has taught me. A little rearranging and I've caught up I guess. Is it obvious enough I didnt take a second thought to possibly missing myself. Wild open space...bombs away<3

</3 DTM.

ecstasy, as we gown down, slowly. . .

HI FRANZ! *no ones there*
That's okay. Here's a quick recollection of the wonders of the recent times-so that I can reflect during the future harder ones to come. Inevitably.

My boyfriend is a superhero, but people call him Fudge. I'm eating peanuts.

Actually...I'm thinking about renigging on that decision to reflect over my week...
It's been nuts. I'm listening to STRFKR as I tell you that one of my best friends tried to kill himself I found out today. Nameless, shameless, we all struggle. This struggle is all too surreal and too real all at the same time for me. First it was mom, then Todd, then little Me as the invincible version of the Princess and the Pea...Dad, little sister, ex boyfriend #1, #2. I stopped #3 from jumping off the roof of that building downtown and when #4 said "I'M GUNNA JUMP!" I was tired. I told him, "just do it then", and ThankFuckingGod he didnt. Because we wouldnt be where we are today. Say what you mean Dallas. Be cautious the power of the vessel you choose. We are mightier than we think, even when we are weak. Still eating peanuts. All suicide aside; my boyfriend is a superhero and Karen O likes to serenade me YouTube style with songs dedicated to my better "Hysteric" moments. Very reminiscent of Cat Power. Hang Heavy, you suddenly complete me, you suddenly complete me. A FUCKING SUPERHERO! HE HAS CHANGED SHAPES! He can fly without wings when he's in crazy situations-he calls on vastly more powerful morals than that of a human being. HE'S A SUPERHERO. He preaches the truth when others are scared of it. He doesn't bask in lies, or the shadows of dark sides. HE IS A SUPERHERO- I recognize him because over the years I've lived off a diet of Iron and Wine and I've been looking for a superman. He is something different, and I don't think I full really truly realized his capabilities until he stepped into the light. I can stroll along, whistling like a spiritual gangster floating on air and the Nike's my boyfriend bought me, singing "MY BOYFRIEND IS A SUPERHERO AND I DIDNT EVEN KNOW IT WAS HIM!". He's been saving my ass for so long, I think I neglected to truly give him credit for all the good he has inside. I just have always thought he was beautiful anyways, but it's glaring now. Like the sun, except he just doesn't burn my eyes. I drink him up through blue pools, and feed my quiet halftime soul. Celebrate? 90 reasons a day, until I owe him more! vague vague vague-cunt, and prettttyyyyy (my make up was returned to me). I think the chances of that was like 1/100 addicts? lucky duck.

<3 goose *smack & RUN*

Oh World...

fuck...
Writing is like sex to me.

If only I could bloom. Entirely. I peek; i  peak daily. And then I rush back down like the Irish in my veins.
A gloomy bloomer is what I am haha.
"What plagues me nowadays," nobody but my impromptu Mother Replacement Model
And I myself ask me.
Hilarity. Ecstasy. The cracks of the lowest past depths.
My "best friend" who I haven't known for years, and my claim
on that term has yet to belong to anyone but God.
I pray while I walk and insist with the openest mind I've got
"take this from me take this from me takethisfrommetakethisfromme"
The first part of all my days but Sunday is that of a depressing sitcom,
and I look back on it every night as if I were a stranger.
Stranger, I have grown. In all ways.

Jason's got me crumbling, and mumbling weak little cries under the covers at night.
Because I love him so,
Only because I am fixable as shattered glass if he doesn't make this trip with me.
I know there are others,
I know I've got a list of people that Ive been serving warm beer for over concrete slabs, those that I will meet behind all the other doors other than this one here that I entered into.
One I never even chose.
A little late to turn around and run.
I've tried to find light by searching all the darkness,
and so far the new plan is fairing me so much better...half the time?
I know I'm going to be okay,
If rather just be fucking incredible with you.
If you don't make it...I swear to fucking God I'll burn this world to shredz.
It's too important to be a secondary lesson.
Let my love shine, and
Take this from me
     but don't take THIS from me
take this , but don't take THAT.
That's all I've fuxking got some days..

Garden state of mind

We All Gave Thanks An Hour Ago.

Wow.. What to write; after 6 months?! What a flake as a writer I have been, on and off for so long. And yet so many valid fucking excuses I have, for everything else, other than not writing.

I'll let these hands take over for a small while, let be animated the key and keyhole portal of my true self imprinted on this borrowed flesh. How can I be more poetic? How can I stop from yielding to the days as they march over me? So many ways I know how to live the answer to these questions, and yet countlessly I shun my escape, day after day. I am overruling my calling, and running from myself in the ways I learned as a young girl. I defy my body. I hush my mind and all the brass, silver and gold keepings inside that seek fruition. And then I curse my fate! What a joke I've shaped so much of my time into. What a mockery of my capabilities and destiny. Dancing along in chaotic parades of  dishonor and shame and immaturity... I know my time is near. I can feel it knocking. I know I have fan backwards far too fast for just a little longer than I was allowed, and I feel slightly like a newly blinded person, that my fate will come into an uncomfortable permanence not fit for me, if I fight life much longer. I've done too much damage to the world around me to be in tune with the future much, or the promise I know it holds. But I feel that we are born with the pull of hope, and we are made with the urge to follow calls. It's our souls job to weed out which scents we leave to the winds, and which sounds we work feverishly to hone in on. I know I've stacked straws higher than Kilimanjaro on a losing bet; on a lame horse. I've been wondering, lately, if I have enough of my senses left in tact to heed the final calls that will sway my fortune promisingly. Or if I have fought too long, and too hard towards my own suffering by engaging in temporary escapes. Too many trapdoor shortcuts and even the most travel savvy sailor can lose their way. I wonder...

Alasssss,
I started to write this half-dressed and alone, cross-legged out back. Just me and the coldest parts of the night. But the rustling and sight of an enormous nocturnal creature of some sort left me scurrying for the safety of my own room indoors. As a result, my ability and pace of writing is vanishing as always when combined with artificial warmth, and the racket of a t.v. necessary for a dear one to sleep. So in conclusion I am done here, and headed to bed to find the sleep that should have been the daily reprieve I settled for so many years ago. The natural, allowable, sufficient escape. I will try it on for size tonight, and God-willing, soon it will be the only escape I choose.

Sweet dreams world :) And Happy Thanksgiving.

-dm.

A Girl In Port

Here I am, nearing 3 am again, tiring away like the hours of yesterday in my pumpkin coach. Not in a sad way, but in an inevitable mellow-drama. Falling out over time like the waves making it to the shore, no matter what shape in which they might actually arrive. Even if they die out, foaming at the mouth. I used to be a soldier at heart, but the desert has warped that blessed curse in this mind. All soldiers become weary. That is the shore that I am currently beached on, ribs caved in mindless breath. Thinking nothing, nothing, nothing. I am a sleep walker, a daydream cruiser. I am a reality winder-hide and seek bruised. Too much of a day is a bad thing for me, and I have had but an hour of rest between now and the sleep that pinched me barely between it's fingers for an hour or so. I wish I didn't have to start a stupid job this morning, but I guess it will help the day die. Hopefully this one falls like a half ass fire, because I'll have to be up at 5 am to start this puppy. Coffee in the veins, that's an incoming reality without a doubt. It's funny because the trains are blaring their business over each other at a constant pace, which is usually oddly comforting to me in these hours, a dulled reminder of home. "You can still go back one day". But, this morning they are too familiar, too selfish and obscene, like the trains that would scream 50ft from my head on a freezing Portland night, as I hated a concrete bed. Here's to fighting the lackadaisical. Here's to charming the pants off the rest of today, and goddamned most of all, a mouth frothing CHEERS to hitting that delicious stage of delirious when you know you're good because you and the world each have each other by the balls. Amen sister.

-dm.