MadameBastet-firing-neurons
Sick for a week
Camille couldn't do any better than this!
Wracked with this tuburcular hacking
Seven days, seven nights of insomnia
I've missed all week with my kids
And now they're on Spring Break.
I miss the kids so much.
I don't think I realized how much joy
they bring me.
And if anyone needs joy, it's me.
That, and sleep.
Where the hell did it go?
Twelve years + tired tired tired
and I can't fucking sleep.
Even with Ambien, the miracle drug!
I'm not even sleep eating!
Or sleep walking!
Or sleep dancing!
I'm just lying in my new bed
Night after night
wishing I had wings
so like the proverbial vampire bat
I'd fly all over the seedy blackness
and find some other screwed up
body clocks
to compare sad, lonely notes with.
What kind of person takes two different kinds of sleeping meds
And still can't sleep?
Why does this afflict me so?
Why can't I be normal in just this one tiny way?
The day is lousy with waste.
It's over.
Friday, April 07, 2006
Thursday, April 06, 2006
MadameBastet-firing-neurons
MadameBastet-firing-neurons
Two fucking a.m. again
I can't take this anymore
I can't take myself and
I can't get away
Nihilism and existentialism
Jesus, didn't I get off that train
in my 20's
Now I lie in bed again and think of the void
the Abyss
I want to believe so badly
but I just can't seem to get there from here
And I think about my dad
and how I'm probably never going to see him again
And the scream inside me
echoes endlessly
No one comes to save me
and I am missing everyone I have not yet lost.
I am thinking too much again
sometimes drugs don't seem like such a bad idea
after all.
Two fucking a.m. again
I can't take this anymore
I can't take myself and
I can't get away
Nihilism and existentialism
Jesus, didn't I get off that train
in my 20's
Now I lie in bed again and think of the void
the Abyss
I want to believe so badly
but I just can't seem to get there from here
And I think about my dad
and how I'm probably never going to see him again
And the scream inside me
echoes endlessly
No one comes to save me
and I am missing everyone I have not yet lost.
I am thinking too much again
sometimes drugs don't seem like such a bad idea
after all.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
MadameBastet-firing-neurons: April 2006
MadameBastet-firing-neurons: April 2006
Transfiguration
Transfiguration
You turned it into wine
You gave us questions
But told us not to ask
And when we dared to brush the curtain aside
You orderd us to leave.
In all your divine light
Now there is blindness
Where once there was sight.
Whose spine can never be broken?
What good is the door
That can never be opened?
That can never be known
What good are sins
If they can never be owned?
And now you spend your time
Avenging that sacrifice one by one
What good is a desert when it’s all sun
The waste
The famine
The plague
The floods
Did you move tectonic plates and then laugh at what you’d done?
From the mountain peak or ocean floor
You gave us the world
In all its cruel beauty
And then you mock us for wanting more.
MadameBastet-firing-neurons
MadameBastet-firing-neurons
Traveling Through Byzantium
Is it gold
Are you still young
Would I be old?
Is it white
Is it beyond
Day or night
Unrequited but not uninvited
For you have never left
The neurons of my mind
Brain chemistry has not yet failed me
If this is the soul
Then it has loved you
Into eternity.
We have fought
And I have cursed you
Ignored you and begged you
To come home
This space, this place, this time
You are only synapses firing in my mind
And as the years pass I fear the dimming
Of these sparks, this great light
Into the fabric of my being
My energy is your energy now
You continue on through me
Though it’s you when I look in the mirror
You’re the laughter in my voice
The humor in my words
The courage in the heart of all my fear
Yours is the energy I hold most near
Is it blue
Is it gold
This place you now call home
And I remember crying
Please don’t leave me alone.
If the skies glitter madly
Or the heavens are cobalt, azure or cornflower blue
You’re not there anyway
The blood coursing through each vein
And when I miss you the most
When I weep and whisper your name
It is only then you are so achingly close.
Monday, April 03, 2006
MadameBastet-firing-neurons
MadameBastet-firing-neurons
I have come to the realization that Christopher Walken
is a god.
Not just *a* god, mind you.
But *the* God.
(Insert maniacal laughter here).
No, I didn't forget to take my pills.
The plague is still with me.
I'm skipping out on the kids - they say it's going to rain tomorrow anyway.
Christ on the Almighty Cross - do we fucking need more rain?
But seriously, Chris, who is my father's age - well I wouldn't toss him out of bed for cracker crumbs.
I love older men. ADORE them. The dichotomy is this society between the way we view older men and older women is sickening. I was brainwashed into the cult myself.
Older men are wiser, more mature, every line, crevass, crease on their faces a beauty mark from some great loss, love, deed. A woman is just a hysteric trying to defy gravity and paralyze all known facial expressions in the hopes of eternally appearning 25 because you know, for Christ's sake, we don't want women with character. We want women with breasts they could eat their dinner off of. Skin as smooth as newborn baby's ass. Men are allowed life. They are allowed the ups, the downs, the indignities, the hail fellow well mets, the grey hair, the receding hairline, the nest of crow's feet. Men are allowed to say "Look at me! I've lived and loved and lost and I've been kicked and I've been down and I've been on top and on bottom." Women. Christ, the parameters they're allowed to exist in in this society are so narrow it's a wonder we're all not blowing our heads off.
Women need to stop being so fucking afraid. Afraid they won't get a man, won't be able to keep the man. Botox at three, tit lift at 5, dinner at 8, blow job till he passes out. As ususal, women are their own worst enemies. Stop lying about your ages you frightened chicken-shits! Stop shoving botulism poison into your face until your man can't tell if your screaming, laughing or even alive. It's all biology anyway baby. If a man's gonna spread his seed, well, he's gonna spread it. If he doesn't want to control his biological imperitaves, then I say, don't let the door hit your dick on the way out honey. Peeing is a biological imperative. Doesn't mean we all have to piss on our neighbor's lawns all the time.
There's nothing wrong with looking good. However trying to look like you're 24 when you're 60 is just circus-like. Freak time! And let's face it, there's nothing stronger than the power of the pussy. But come on ladies, pull your Botox needles out and put your thinking caps on. Being a cock-tease starts way, way above the proverbial Mason-Dixon line. You can't think and fuck too?
Uh oh. I said think. That's gonna scare a guy, huh? You know what I say to that? Shut up and blow me.
I have come to the realization that Christopher Walken
is a god.
Not just *a* god, mind you.
But *the* God.
(Insert maniacal laughter here).
No, I didn't forget to take my pills.
The plague is still with me.
I'm skipping out on the kids - they say it's going to rain tomorrow anyway.
Christ on the Almighty Cross - do we fucking need more rain?
But seriously, Chris, who is my father's age - well I wouldn't toss him out of bed for cracker crumbs.
I love older men. ADORE them. The dichotomy is this society between the way we view older men and older women is sickening. I was brainwashed into the cult myself.
Older men are wiser, more mature, every line, crevass, crease on their faces a beauty mark from some great loss, love, deed. A woman is just a hysteric trying to defy gravity and paralyze all known facial expressions in the hopes of eternally appearning 25 because you know, for Christ's sake, we don't want women with character. We want women with breasts they could eat their dinner off of. Skin as smooth as newborn baby's ass. Men are allowed life. They are allowed the ups, the downs, the indignities, the hail fellow well mets, the grey hair, the receding hairline, the nest of crow's feet. Men are allowed to say "Look at me! I've lived and loved and lost and I've been kicked and I've been down and I've been on top and on bottom." Women. Christ, the parameters they're allowed to exist in in this society are so narrow it's a wonder we're all not blowing our heads off.
Women need to stop being so fucking afraid. Afraid they won't get a man, won't be able to keep the man. Botox at three, tit lift at 5, dinner at 8, blow job till he passes out. As ususal, women are their own worst enemies. Stop lying about your ages you frightened chicken-shits! Stop shoving botulism poison into your face until your man can't tell if your screaming, laughing or even alive. It's all biology anyway baby. If a man's gonna spread his seed, well, he's gonna spread it. If he doesn't want to control his biological imperitaves, then I say, don't let the door hit your dick on the way out honey. Peeing is a biological imperative. Doesn't mean we all have to piss on our neighbor's lawns all the time.
There's nothing wrong with looking good. However trying to look like you're 24 when you're 60 is just circus-like. Freak time! And let's face it, there's nothing stronger than the power of the pussy. But come on ladies, pull your Botox needles out and put your thinking caps on. Being a cock-tease starts way, way above the proverbial Mason-Dixon line. You can't think and fuck too?
Uh oh. I said think. That's gonna scare a guy, huh? You know what I say to that? Shut up and blow me.
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