She sits in her bed.

It is nearly 5:00 in the afternoon.

Her bedroom, her sanctuary. She is me.

My own best friend and worst enemy.

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Do I even notice myself here? My bed is filled with blankets pillows and creature comforts. Kettle popcorn, computer pencils and drawing pad adorn my comfort zone. A scented candle burns on one of two night stands surrounding me. The rails of the canopy bed are hung with multicolored scarves and pastel sheers to soften my space. The white on white room is only mildly tidy. The colors of dark and unpainted furniture are all that break the white on white expanse of walls. A disorganized room for a disorganized woman.

I am in my head again. Deep within my head. I have been traveling there a lot more these past few weeks. My only distractions being reading my book “Curse the Dawn” by Karen Chance, drawing, playing my guitars, I have several, and my purgatory online, social networking. I go to work and the gym of course. Yeah I joined a gym a couple weeks ago. I am glad I did. It feels really good to sweat and lift weights. I have been so horribly out of shape. I am going to get my supermodel body if it kills me. I know I will never be a supermodel. A fetish or pinup model would be really cool. Oh yeah. That has been a secret in my heart for some time. I always wanted to be a supermodel from about the first day I saw Cristy Brinkley. I had a poster of her in my locker in Jr High. I wanted to be her. I still think she is one of the most beautiful women in history.

Still in my sanctuary. I am listening to chill music videos like Fink and Breaks Co-op. I keep trying to draw something through the haze of confused and trouble thoughts. I admit I don;t have a perfect life. I don’t have a fucked up life either. I have built something from nearly nothing… again. the hardest part about that is that I have NO friends here. Not real hang out any ole time hay stop by kind of friends anyway. I think I only ever had one of those my entire life. I like my job but I do not make friends with people at work. It’s just too complicated. It has nothing to do with being a lesbian either. I am out REALLY out in that regard.

I did manage to make what may turn out to be a really true and lasting friend up in Sonoma county. Dr. D. I call her. She has a heart of gold and deserves so much better than me. We have enjoyed each other company very much lately. I care about Dr. D so I won’t taint her life with my details here. Let’s just hope I don’t fuck up that relationship anymore than I may have already done. Side not: it’s almost comical that we talk on the phone frequently but neither of us can hear what the other is saying half the time. My friend in the stix. 😉 

Half a bag of popcorn down the chute and I can tell the sun is setting. Not because the clock says 5:23 but I can sense it. I have one window facing another window in an alley of sorts. A void between two Victorian houses really. Not much light here but I still feel it. I think I am going to keep writing. I am not getting very far with the drawing thing today. Maybe I will do that tomorrow. Maybe not. I have several things I really need to do or plan. I keep putting then off too.

Is this what it was life when I was a teen the first time around? I’m here again. Young of mind and filled with angst, emotion and unsure of many things. I guess this may just be the price of coming out so late in life. I’m working on a plan. Not sure what really. I told Dr. D I don’t make plans anymore. She commented “Why, because you just breaking them again?” Ouch. Funny but not. She was dead on.

I’m still here in my sanctuary. A unsure, maybe fading place of peace and comfort.


Am I just hiding from life and running from something?

A Moment

For a moment…

The armor turned to veils of translucent, vulnerable, welcoming…

The walls turned to dust in hands of warming comfort…

The thoughts of healed simple pleasures rang true…

The fear that chased away open-hearted song subsided…

The haunted memories of stricken night turned to sunlight…

The comforting embraces lasted a lifetime…

The wishes and desires of two became one…

The sense of belonging embrace a tortured soul…

The momentum carried forward…

…and all was right in worlds of my own making.

But only for a moment.

My Enemy

I’ve seen my enemy
Perched a thousand strong in shadows surround

One thousand million shells hurled
From cannons self inflicted

Running furious a pace of futile design
All defeated in fields of tortured beauty

Lasting holdouts
Breaking walls of stone and flesh

Hunted down in merciless attack
One by one all traces erased from fertile minds

In the distances over time and endless barrage
Shots cry out last undefeatable foe

Chased, perused, hunted and feared
Exchanges powered raging combat

One on one the battle’s hymn
Still standing, firmly planted and refused to die

Infinity trembles wakes of senseless pride
No wall to high nor barrier too deep

The last yet standing
Stalemate’s tortured for ever more

Looking in to eyes fear defeats
My enemy inside

My enemy is me


Vulnerability : The careful art of allowing someone in. Intimacy based in trust.

It’s one of the greatest gifts you can give another. Allowing them in hoping they do not run off with the spoils. Most are just afraid of what we keep locked away. Or is it we ourselves that are afraid of what we protect behind these walls?

A subject of intense joy and sorrow depending on how that trust is used.


Contributed by guest author: Amber

Love bursts forth from your heart:
A dam break, overflowing, overwhelming,
Quenching the thirst of parched hearts.
And yet here I stand,
Alone and silent
In the desert three thousand miles away,
Surrounded by cracked rock and dust,
Withering away.
Merrily you go about your life
Oblivious to pain,
Turning the other cheek to suffering;
Not an offer but a shield,
Carved ice between you and the
Wasteland of my mind.
Your laughter bubbles like champagne,
The cork popping in celebration of
All that is good and fair in your existence;
And yet, here I sit,
Grieving silently over the jagged pieces of my heart
That you, smiling, placed in my hands
Before walking away.

City Streets

Walking always walking
A girl always has to know her surroundings
No stranger to fashionable pain and craggy pavement
The smell of urine soaked sleeping bags fill doorway corners
Lifeless bodies filling the tattered fabric

A streetcar shutters the sidewalk as it rattles along
Clanging vintage bells and rusty iron screeching under the weight
Pedestrians clamor on the street corners
Rouge crossers play chicken with speeding taxis like amateur bullfighters

A faded paper tumble weeds dart in and out of traffic
Heels, flats, boots, sandals and bare feet forging concrete destinations
The smell of soured milk, baked goods and charring meats mix in succession
Stadiums of ripe fruits and vegetables attending the daily street show

Walking, walking always walking
Droves of expressionless faces buzz by obstacles of foreign tourists
Cameras snap pictures
A billion seconds captured in a million scrapbooks

Brigades of humming cars jostle for position
A maze of painted arrows and 3 color color sentinels
The streets are rivers of constant motion
Sounds erupt from under foot as buried trains traffic their human cargo

Storefronts and coffee shops and business of unknown fare
Multistory boxes and turn of the century homes
People, pets and coworkers scattered amongst the cacophony
Sound the inescapable lover, friend and enemy

Lone urchin serenade the masses from your subterranean hall
Three repeated notes on your pawnshop sax
Dented and tarnished the beauty is in simplicity
A quarter races down grate a token of gratitude misses its mark

Shy words, faded reminders, conversations just out of range
Lips move, ears strain, eyes wonder and hide in dime store novels
Public transportation sweating under the burden of millions
Sardine packed rush-hours violate personal spaces

A stray cat darts in to hidden worlds
Pigeons falling from trees of vinyl coated copper vines
No crumb goes uneaten
No trash bin unexplored

Nights fall and mornings rises a tireless ballet with city lights and steaming manholes
No sleep, no rest the arteries of city life
Evaporating liquids filling in low spaces
Occasional rain replenishing the tide

Distant siren a song of graffiti wall
Vacant lots chained forgotten spaces
Cardboard nests strewn littered underpasses
Faceless human forgettens dying at our feet

Travelers commuters repeat in trusted paths
Tree line streets making light of paved over fields
A park, A waterfront, a lone abandoned stroller
Bicycle locked chains on tireless frames

Jogger, family, vendor share the spaces well
Bus drawn masses reaching every corner of the map
Limited horizontal spaces beget mountains of stairs
No lot unexplored transient icons of ingenuity

Walking Endless walking
City by the bay garden of asphalt, concrete and steel
Walking City Streets
No place like here to stop an smell the roses


Playing cards with the Devil
Tricky dances of lost will and dangerous passions
Bottles of desire drawn to lips
Curious hands tempt wanting flesh
Siren’s song bleeding in ears
Crossed boundaries of violated control
Scent burning long awaited dreams
Another gasp of indulgence
Cards expose face in hand
Successive turns excite senses
A battery of stolen moments sweat form every orifice
The temptress plays her final hand
Heart, lungs, time stop
Dark flashes the moment
Thought suspended drowning  pleasures
Utter submission


Temptation takes it’s prize