December 02, 2010


Didn't go out today, snowed heaps more overnight. No spliffage...
It brings back that filthy, human condom feeling, lower than a pet.
More at the weekend hopefully, so I can go back to being a spiritual, intelligent poet. Tired but bedroom is freezing, cabin fever, whats the point to busy turning inward, not in a positive sense but into the shit and murk. Is is possible that part of the reason I got hurt again and again is due to a mild form of autism. Is worth inquiring about, some kind of diagnosis would be very useful. Although it will be embarrising, weeping in gratatude at some psychologists feet.
Tomorrow I go back to studying, dishes. Need to get my grades up, I get a lot out of it ever if the grades upset me,Family Guy upsets me. Last week I was laughing my head of at it. sono stanka

Company at the weekend weather permiting of course, good.

November 28, 2010


I am a published poet

and I am proud.

What can I say the lord giveth, he taketh. I would rather he had just left me to it. How am I supposed to feel, something other than an antique night gown and naked fingers.
There's been tears but worse than that is illness. Sickened by the sex and violence in Toy Story 3. Thank fuck its snowing. It's not a time where you can get by on your own, no one understands that better than me. But is the gloating necessary, is it a good idea?

I am warm though and this junior is sleeping in seperate but nearby room, Any footsteps in the night are his or in another flat.I have his birth certificate and everything. What a luxury that is, I feel like a proper lady when I hold it. Finally I have all the main paperwork for a ticket to toyland.

Drama therapy darling...

November 21, 2010

no fucking records

bloody police..
I never complained about my dad, my sister, or my girlfriend
I never wept about baby killing djs in interview rooms
or raping judges on tape.
I didn't help with ops against drug, people or arms traffiking
I didn't have relationships with officers
or called them dad
I never drew maps of networks on whiteboards
never took little children in their rapist's clothes
to authorities and held their hands as they were examined.
I didn't turn up in stations, drugged, bleeding, weeping
or told them where the bodies were buried.
I never complained.

I was never arrested or resisted
I was never cautioned or armed
I never confessed or begged to be kept in
And they never gave me a duvet
and brought in chinese.

November 13, 2010

Bloody hell I think I might be okay..

three poems published, ta da
one about goldie locks, one about authority figures and one about carrying drugs over mountains and being fucked on a big wooden cross.

Whats more I'm not homeless, not homeless
Its making me me nausous, I behind in the studies but loving it, playing to my strengths not taking it too seriously that a bad grade makes me a worthless human being. Education will also be about other peoples ideas, there is nothing wrong with rejecting that sometimes.

My hall is yellow with a purple carpet I have a poster of a new york taxi and green wall hanging thing, a mirror, a lampshade and suddenly I'm in heavan. Ditch the battle for compensation, ignore the travesties of power and injustice I have a veranda and a wee broon sofa for one that cost £35.

My god the social worker is the embodiement of some anciet soul devouring demon.


all though probably not in the literal baby eating sense.
I hope.

I do my best but it isn't long before someone says something that makes my heckles rise like a sleeping dog someone has stood on. These assumptions, about whats right and wrong, real and unreal are the cream filling in a shit pie. It might look the part but my nose tells appearances can be deceptive.

Trust your instincts.

I'm a post-colonial, feminist, senstive sex trafficking, child porn and ritual survivor, I think Marx was a pretty clever dude and see gender as a tool for divide and conquer, religion too. Rape is what makes the world go round and the heart of every civilisation.

Everyone is Satan to me.

Ohh time for some hot chocolate and peanut butter toast, maybe a bit of QI.

October 16, 2010


He didn't come through until half past but I could hear him, the rattle of plastic on plastic and the exposed floor boards. Hear his voice raising and falling in pitch as he copied and created in role play. As usual I can't get up when I first wake, the comfort feels to precious to move on from. When he brought buzz, woody and jessie through I was happy to see them all. He looked healthy and happy if maybe a little unsure because my bed was in the living room.

Decorating always brings back memories of my parents home improvements in all the houses we lived in. Watching my dads extensive sanding, scrubbing and sweeping in preperation to turn each council house, flat and rural shack into a fitting setting for us who had been exciled from society for being working class and educated. His pain staking cutting in, and choice of colours that usually looked pretty much the same to me. Sometimes he would ask me if I thought something needed another coat or let me make the decision about something he was unsure of, then glady repaint a wall so full faith that I would be right.

Over the years his enthusiasm, creativity and perfectionism dried up. The way he barated my mother about a rubed down skirting board or the drips in a glossed door changed. He gave in easier and flounched of to the pub instead of staying up all night sorting something she hadn't gotten right. Letting her have a room back when it once she would of had days or weeks to wait before she could use it. He stopped completly years ago and now does nothing.

It's hard work and there is generally plenty of hard work anyway.

October 12, 2010


First proper nights sleep since getting here instead of lieing awake terrified at the thought of women with notebooks, pens, procedures and very limited experience of the world. I feel their nails digging themselves into my soft pink soul. I had to learn to shut up and do what I'm told when it came to women, they hurt my babies, brained my angels. Now they are judying my mental health, my ability to protect wee man. Fuck that!

It's a definite issue to work on. It's not all women, just a lot of them. It's just that when men look at men it feels like they see me, more often anyway. Of course they talk a lot of bull but the eyes, there is not threat there. Often with women, there is a narrowing, the raising of barriers, a knitting needle to the heart.

I will talk about it, try and explain how I feel, that I often don't feel heard. The respect I have for them as women working to make other peoples lives better is not at equal to the respect I feel they have for me, a women trying to make her life better.

I have skirting boards to paint, boxes to empty, a home to make, without the intrusion of ignorant insensitive women.

Think I might have to give up on the whole being a lesbian thing..

October 09, 2010

new home

It has a balcony that doesn't get any light and no flooring until the state pays for it but it's my name on the lease and it's in a place I feel comfortable.. I can forget about the sniffy bably informed social worker, the insensitive women's aid staff, for tonight anyway..

October 01, 2010

fear of women

There isn't any point in feeling guilty about it, like it's my fault, like it is something I just have to accept. I feel intimidated, bullied, undermined and invisible by most women. Their words their philosophies make me feel threatened.
It's okay.
I'm almost out of refuge, I don't have to speak to anyone I don't want to. It is my life, my health, 'no one has the right to judge' but they do. They give you keys, tell you who can visit and what time they must leave, they discriminate and make assumptions based on an ancient mythology
They are fascist.

I was looking for the number for my doctor when the phone rang. Gossip, Standing in the way of control, It was the housing. The flat is ready. I could of wept.

I don't feel safe here any more, I feel their piercing eyes their prying fingers everywhere. The cutting words rain down like bullets. Their generalisations and beliefs, as heavy as the cross.

The cross I lifted alone, the cross I made into hamster bedding.

September 30, 2010


As usual
I only remember good advice when it's too late.
I've been told not to disclose to people that arn't properly trained or emotionally equipped.
Stupidly I answered as many questions as I could even though I wasn't comfortable with it. After all these years still a disclosure whore, giving it all away for fuck all.
In the middle of asking about the babies and wee ones slaughtered while people laughed, I never mentioned the laughter I couldn't remember anything the way they were speaking to me. She has a go about the state of the flat and suggests that the mess is the reason I have a cold. She has a point but the timing was awful, really insensitive. Behold the all mighty power of women's aid..
I don't think so..

After I got my mate to come down with an inhaler because I was getting light headed and not my breathing wasn't working right I felt much better. Asthma, chest infection, coughin up the steroids, no reliever.. They didn't even give me a warning just showed up in the morning. The police said they don't interview people with mental health problems without a someone trained to help me. That makes sense..

Hearing them say I was putting wee dude at risk by letting my mum take him up the road has actually made me feel more confident. Don't think I will bother too much from with the follow on.

September 29, 2010

poor support

My support worker was round today to help fill out a form, she was looking quite lovely. She dresses younger than most women her age and it really suits her. I was looking at my matches again and was totally unaffected apparently I'm back to being gay..
and broody.

It's difficult with wee man this now, partly because he is 3 which means high maintance which makes me irratiable and very cute of course which makes for severe guilt over the grumpyness.

The other reason is because of the work I'm doing, going over stuff, remembering, writing. I've seen kids his age die in horrific, slow, agonising deaths.

It kind of bums people out when I talk about that stuff, or I get told how unlikely it is..
I might doubt some of the pictures in my head but the emotional memory is unquestionable. Sometimes they would they would give us time, make out like everything was different and act all human. Once they were confident me and the wee one had bonded properly they would start up again. The wee one would be raped, torn apart, smashed against walls, cut up, limbs snapped, drugs poisions.

Better go back to doctors soon and print out that letter.

I told the sexy support that I remember the women who writes books and sets up support for people like me. That after I saw her at the office I read a poem I wrote and linked the faces, she plucked a new born out my arms and told me I didn't need 'that'..
I love you angels..
how far do I take this?

September 27, 2010

posting stats

I do love the stats, over 100 views now!
The further away they are the more excited I am, one view from Vietnam, cool.
Very shallow I know but it takes my mind of the letter to accompany to subject access request. No more than 4 pages... giving details about reported incidents which is very difficult because all the trauma, mental illness and drugs makes it pretty dam near impossible to remember single incidents. But I remember trying, memorising things that happened which made things worse at the time and is still inaccessible.

Think I will talk to lawyer first, not sure though.

'Personal touch quean, thats how you got us'
'But I've tried, over and over and over.'
'Please. Give us a chance, were on tenderhooks.'
'Your on tenderhooks? Trouble sleeping? Problems giving your family the quality time they deserve?'
'Were sorry. Please. One last try.'

'I'm still working adamt I!
I keep thinking its my life now, my will, my needs but it isn't is it. Everything its all just another job. Another pointless, soul destroying, unresolvable truama.'
'Our wills are the same, you know they are.'
'But you can go home afterwards.'
'You think?..'

September 26, 2010

good work, great works

I got a lot done today really and I resisted the urge to not leave that flat by putting some washing out and taking it back in again.

did she, didn't she? Is the women described in a poem called fighting talk who lifted a child out of my arms the same women I opened a door for on Monday? Is this another job that has no objective other than taking me down so I can be taken out. Or is just me seeking out risk in the belief that if I go to it I can limit the damage.

She hasn't gotten back in touch since I said I had been talking to the police, she's a very busy woman.

And tomorrow,
take the house, refuge is getting me down. Be prepared for phonecalls, from law. Phone the support, don't let her get me down. Training is limited in depth and width, she is doing a job this shit is not her life. Ask if she can print stuff for me.

Do other stuff, no names no writing about past, go for walk, study, clean, talk.

I am justified!

I am working on a subject access request, not an easy thing. It's the kind of thing I used To
to fantasie about, admited I was a subject admitting I had rights.
sometimes losing information, things I have told people about and never heard again is like losing a child. All feelings of being part of something of being visable and needed, lost. I never talked to get it out, it was away of keeping hold of it without letting it destroy me, of documenting my fight and what I was up against so that I would know what it took to get in the broken state that you get when you fight. I needed everything counted so I would know how long it took and never doubt myself.


Maybe it wasn't fair on her but you can't get her say.
She did say she was feeling like shit so its probably a good idea she doesn't drive..
The dust and teeth shavings drill off by the almost rehabilitated concentration camp dentist were predictably inhaled then settled in bronchial tissue. Prone to inflammation especially if I have been getting lazy about remembering the steroid inhaler, it feels like my lungs are packed with fibre glass, again.

The more uncertainty I hear in other peoples voices about taking the flat the more certain I am. I will feel safer, women's aid staff will not have keys to my flat, I will not be living in a building full of women who have put their hands up and admitted to being in abusive relationships. It will be mine, mine and wee man's, with shops, takeaways and parks nearby.

September 25, 2010

work to be done

Everywhere needs decorated, everywhere is dodgy cheap wallpaper and patches where the holes from shelves have been filled in. The floorboards are a mess, but they are putting in a new bath and there is good flooring in the kitchen, which is tiny, but has a balcony, which probably wont get much light. Most of the views are of houses, other flats, the last row that looks out onto the field, where they put the dodgers.

I love it and there is a spot in the big bedroom that looks out between flats to trees, field and some space. I will need a table there.

This week I have been multi agencied up and went to the dentist. A not very charming easter european woman. Most butchers treat the flesh they are working on with more gentleness but she has put in five fillings, including work on my front two. I put my tongue against my teeth when I nervous and don't usually floss. Two more on the other side, descale and polish and I'm done. Think I will take the local next time though. The flashbacks are starting to wear off now..

September 24, 2010


There has been a bit of pink sofa action recently to. An perfomance aritist got back in touch, she's been off and on back again. She suggested meeting up some time when she is around I said yes that would be cool. I haven't heard back.

And a newbie. Who said you wasn't suprised I wanted to be a writer because my profile was so good. I was considering carrying her child. Until she said she is thinking of joining the prison service. There has only been two out lesbians, (other than the heroin useing mommy's girl who buys her hash from a guy who was a first love until he raped me) who I have had a semi sustained verbal interaction with, one of them is a prison warden and the other wants to be one.


I have had 365 views on match.bloodycom and 6 unread emails at least 3 of which are from lads with photos I noticed. Can't afford the subscription to read the mail though..

Men notice me more. Maybe its the different profile photos, the lads get the one wee man took when we were on holiday.

Maybe that says something.

There was a man at the check out que in Morrison's. There wasn't enough staff on so we were all there for a while. Just above average height, short blond care, a sort of longish face that looked cute but scary from angle behind with a heap of drink on the conveyor. As he packed he chatted to the check out women and smiled a lot. Straight on he was beautiful, I had to stare. Then I remembered I was buying a bottle of cheap plonk, a frozen pizza and toilet roll. Pretty obvious I was home alone..

September 22, 2010


I am feeling like the walks along, the pitches and the burn with headphones on isn't such a good idea. Like I shouldn't use that short cut to a and bs. Like words are too beautiful to describe something so ugly. I'm thinking I'm working to fulfil promises I made to myself. I'm feeling like painting some walls and working on my shoulders so more.

Feel like taking my time.

Wish I could be arsed writing more though..

September 19, 2010

Aid Women

She said a few times, making sure I understood they are not in the best position to give support for that sort of stuff. Then who is? Not enough people talk, and those that do only talk about certain aspects. The only way proper support can be put in place for people like me is if people like me are supported properly to share what they know. Round and round we go.

There is always too much about confidentiality. I hate thought of what I say not going any further, we will never disclose.. please disclose away, thats why I'm talking. You don't have the training the support me properly use the information to find the right support. But thats outside our remit..

I'm supported my antidepressants and much improved sense of my own value these days. I wont be making the same mistakes.

I think I need a word with Izzy's man.

My god the lawyer dude was everything I could dream of in a lawyer dude. Old but not too old, grey haired with notes that must of been incomprehensible to almost anyone but him. He phoned his diary with the cut of date for the appeal. Talked fast and straight I was only in their about 4 minutes but came out very satisfied.

The week after next I better take a step back and get into 20th century lit or I will get too sucked down by it all. Knowing that next week I am back into war poets, revolutionaries and the social context of art will hopefully help me focus. By god its all going to shake me up
such a fucking release to through. A wait off, blinkers removed. Colours get brighter, fresh air gets fresher. Caring for we man gets effortless and simpler. Something to keep in mind when I'm being looked at my older women with similair accents, builds and social backgrounds to women who broke babies in their hands.

September 18, 2010

dusk in a town

The short walk home through a close September dusk picks me up
I follow a gray path through green by the redish burn
of other peoples homes. The orange stars
in the mid distance glitter on the textures
of streets,roundabouts and warehouses.
Down the hill
then I cross the road without looking twice
or stuttering my stride. I look down the burn,
it's froth and stretch finds a home in me.

September 15, 2010


The extracts from my medical records arrived today. Nothing in them that will be much use, lots of letters about missed appointments and nothing from my shrink before H. A letter from the police saying they had nothing, but it looks like they might have searched using my new name. I'm going to pay the tenners and see what if anything is on file. Data Protection Act, which has probably meant anything I need know has been destroyed.
My god
their is fuck all rational about bureaucracy.
Lots of appointments though.
At least I have sorted out an opportunity to talk about some of my dead babies, and a name.

Couldn't face going out this afternoon. Felt so guilty about it, its September and sunny and I let the boy watch TV all afternoon. A couple of blast of 'Sunshine on Leith' and a mini mediate and I moved away from focusing on the hopelessness of attempting to get information from secret societies that are rich and armed when your skint and scared and thought about what has been achieved. Thank you proclaimers I have been listening to that track a lot recently and it's helping to get me through.

I am not in chains
but I have been.

Footie training tomorrow and a mates house with Guinness in the fridge with my name on it.

I let junior see me cry.
He pinched my nose with his plastic pliers
and gave me a hug.

George Michael

I dreamt about George Micheal last night, father figure. It was lovely.

I really wish I had taken better care of that back up disk. I dreamt in the hotel that I chucked it out. I'm worrying now that it was a multiple rearing her head and It wasn't a dream and did I actually chuck it.

As for all this blaming canabis rubbish, stop it!

September 12, 2010

oh what a beautiful morning..

It as been great, getting help really can make your day. It's to easy to yet used to getting or not getting it. I was told that it might be worth going for it now, five years ago. I thought that was pretty laughable but I remember the serious faces, it was the wrong time. Now though, I'm pushed forward by my son and the way he lights up the room. Not made for corners and keeping his head down, not that anyone is. Tomorrow I am planning on phoning Izzy's promise to ask for help with the cica. There are reasons why alot of the research and training about ritual abuse is here. I know I have talked to them before but I was also coming into or stumbling out so major truama or crisis.

The literature and the poems will keep me swidgy mind safe..

hail ale


September 11, 2010

20th Century literature

I think the course is going to answer a lot of questions I have had and further my understanding of loads of issues relating to art and the twentieth century. Which is really cool because thats stuff I wonder about a lot. How my experiences relate to violence in the 20th century, how it was accepted as part of Western culture and traditions. I can see myself getting specific it's exciting.

The poetry is in the pity.

The best 20th Century literature - Woman on the Edge of Time because morals matter, but 1984 is pretty good to. Maybe I should have read more. Extra sensory stuff is important to me because of a faith in evolution, that is physical in structure of our brains and bodies, beyond an ancient liberal faith in the progressive nature of civilised society. Society is not 'civilised' it belligerent and oppressive. Increasing communication between each other and within out selves brings better lives to everyone, or can do..


I'm glad its saturday.

Busy week so he's watchin zingzillas, were both still in our jammies.
Book burning what an idiot. They should build a mosque right on the site in recognition of the extremist act of ugly architecture that was the twin towers. Healing through aestheticism.
Seriously though, how the fuck would it be disrespectful? A multicultural centre that included a mosque and a church would work for me but which denomination?

And as for Dawkins going on about how bad religion is, that for good people to do evil it takes religions, what bull. Its none of his business anyway, he is a bad as the antievolutionists. For good people to act evil takes organisation, religious, economic, social whatever. Religion is just a way of validating and internalising social structure. It mediates between individuals and their strength but it has contributed to some pretty funky art..

Enough marxist ranting.

September 09, 2010

today (conclusion)

Tomorrow, is Friday.
I wish I had bought more food.

and some beer.

Nevermind, we are not going to starve and I have baccy. Tonight I added some sentences to the first chapter I've lost my back up disk and don't even care. Don't have the heart for poetry at the moment I want to do something more technical. It's just that pushing thats needed to write, it is beginning to wake up. With this stuff though there is nothing to be gained from trying to force except deteriorating mental health. By writing about it I can forgive myself for the mistakes I made the last time I was in a place like this. Its not easy knowing where my boundaries are, all those words. Some go somewhere, somewhere very different, some relate to definite observable, document things others are just about the past.

today (part 2)

He eats lots of bread and honey, some bread and cheese then a banana. Its a while before footie and I don't want to sit in front of the telly all that time so wee go outside. I suggest the playroom before noticing there isn't any cars in the car park. There is no one let us in and he throws a tantrum. Pummels me with his little fists, screaming 'No Sorry' because I say im sorry the door is locked. I walk a few steps away and let him scream feeling very ill. Then we go outside and play rolleypolley. He has probably forgotten about it but I get an apology and a hug which makes me feel a little better but still pretty ill. After going up the climbing frame and down the shoot a few times we go inside. I do some ironing to stop myself from having a spliff.

On the way to footie I wished for about the 5th time this fortnight that I had shaven my legs and was wearing short, or at least shorter trousers. It's lovely and he is in his buggy, happy to be outside he loves watchin the world go buy in his buggy. I love the exercise and being able to walk at my own pace. At the hill I have to negotiate and only persuade him to get out half way up. The first half, he shouts 'you can do it mummy' as I try the push his weight over the ridges but I have to give in and pull the buggy. He runs to the end of the grass, then a little bit more when we are over the road before we decide its best he went back in.

The footie is brilliant, I laughed a bit much and one of the coaches gave me a look. It was worth it to see a young cute bloke and an older one who looked a bit my sisters ex but smiled more trying to organise the kids. Almost everyone in his life is female, his family, his doctor, the staff here. I want to show him that men can be good with kids to.

Seemed even warmer on the walk home, he wasn't too interested in the cottage pie, but he picked out the carrots and ate loads of peas. After tea he peed in the toilet standing on the stool. I would rather he had just stood on the floor much less margin for error but he did a good job. Minimal messin, once through katies ferm, a wee while to read by himself and its lights out, job done.

today (practice)

A bit late getting up, the battery on my phone had ran out and dude doesn't come through as soon as we wakes anymore. He plays in his room. He puts the telly on and the last of grans free range eggs. He messes about but I get him to eat the bits of yolk that hasn't hit the floor. I scoff mine down, yolk not quite runny enough but still flavoursome and lovely.

At the nursery he sits down next to his groups leader without a problem. I was going to mention he hasdn't pooped for a couple of days but he looks so settled next to her I just leave, happy with my kiss and hug.

Outside its beautiful and warm. A few wispy clouds in pale blue September sky, I get out the donated headphones and walk down past the pitch then along by the burn, sucking in an earned, guilt free mini spliff. On the long pedestrian bridge, the view and beats pushes the light a little further into my broken corners. Back home, make tea, roll a cigarette then phone the law people after a couple of puffs. Expecting an answer machine I have notes at hand, they are less than useful when the voice of an older woman comes on the line. After a few emms I spit it out, no need for details. Next week, wee dude in hand I talk to a lawyer and show him my form.

Then I phone and book him a place in football training for preshcoolers.

As we file in the nursery I glimpse wee man, curled up on the floor of her feat, wrapped in nursery land. He's such a teachers pet, don't know where he got from. The nappy has gone from his drawer but nothing was said. We take a detour to the frozen food shop in the faded, neglect shut down mall. The only shop still opening there, I stick in on a credit card and we eat tonight.

September 07, 2010

law surgery

It don't think going to get legal advice alone is an option at the moment. I feel my eyes rolling and my blood pressure plumating at the thought of it. Hopefully I can get someone to come with me, then go to a and bs afterwards, for a chill out. It will not be easy.

The bloody overview again, yuck.

My god the weather is fucking awful, the only people outside are running, sideways rain. Wee man quiet at the moment. I'm breaking the rules in the kitchen, during the day too! Not eating any fruit today, weve ran out and I'm not going to the shops in that. Left overs for tea, pizza, sausages and frozen peas. I'm sure it will work for him.

Talking about the myths surrounding domestic abuse and got good marks. Except the bit about people who come from abusive families being more likely to be abuse, I always get that one wrong. Hate the thought of people who have been treated right maltreating others. Surely, its not their fault they are fucked up. Let ,it go.

That difficulty, that by addressing problems you internialise them. It's not our fault, it happens because we are woman. Its not generally put like that but it boils down to that.
Which is the same as 'I hurt you because you are a women.' I know its all cultures all backgrounds but I wonder about certain personalities, in certain cultures. Everyones story is different so how can we believe that it would of happened anyway. Domestic abuse, it can be very personal.

Before it used to bother me a lot more. I was abused because I was special, powerful, lovely, etc. That was not always the case, a lot of it was down to me just being there.

September 05, 2010

nursery tomorrow

I ironed today.

Its not its the first time. I have often ironed juniors leaving the house clothes. It was different this time though. I wanted more. I wanted to fill drawers and cupboards with cheap cotton ironed clothes.

The energy needed to be part of a local extended family was forgotten pretty quickly. Christ even if everyone was sorted its tiring all that knowing, caring and bonding. Loads of hugs from the newbie, they forget fuck all.

I have decided that sunday night wine, ironing and chill out is going to be part of the routine. Mondays will be busy and I think I can congratulate myself. I'm so glad we are here. The area, the nursery, the poems being printed, the people, christ even the bloody weather has been right.
I'm eating fruit for fuck sake.

Think I might not take the antidepressants for a couple of days, I'm starting to get pretty scared its going to well. Things always went amazing until I found myself in intensive care or much much worse.

Right now its all about the smelly candles in my 39p holders, cheesy tunes, a bath, a wee glass of cheap red and a large spliff. Extended families - much more socially acceptable than visiting drug dealers... and they are much better at looking after your kids..



September 04, 2010


It's not as strong but still there, that ache that hates myself for not just letting things go. To be very grateful for the life and soul I have left, a fear or knowledge that the drive for some sort of justice, recognition or compensation is a drive to obvilvion.

But it isn't the same as cutting my arms, shagging an idiot or getting pissed.

This voice, a face a history that told me safety depended on me not shutting up. Someone who was incapable of knowing or doing anything about what would keep me safe.

A faith
and it is a faith. That kept and keep and dispite the glowy people, voices from above and hugely powerful secret societies. That I am different and born into a situation that demands that I be even specialer. Words like 'destiny', 'prophet', and 'genius' are same as every other word. An attempt to describe something, to define something that is constantly changing. Like 'love', 'hate', 'truth' or 'shoe'.
Its okay to think like that no one has to right to say I am wrong. My psychotherapist told me.


Felt pretty good when I woke this morning. After the mail yesterday I wasn't expecting to, I used to be pretty cynical about antidepressants like all they do is chip the corners of everyone thats aching and breaking from being a square peg hammered into a round hole. Chemical lube.

But the past months I have sorted out a lot of things for me and wee man. The depression lifted I could move about easier, I could let the sunshine work with much less come down.

As usual I wake early, briefly of course. I know from experience that leaping out of bed at first rousing is a mistake. By 9 I will be crumbling by ten folded. But good thinking happens if I've made sure Im comfy enough. But the bad dreams will continue if thats what the night has been about.

All the notural stuff had been very positive recently, empowerment, managment until the other night. Snow, water, resort, repeatedly lost son, I kept expecting or needing my mother to keep and eye on him she was indifferent or preoccupied. The next day I got that same terror whenever hw was briefly out of site when we were out. Walking down the road he pointed to the road and said 'no snow'.

I wonder about his dreams, when I ask he just looks at me, no idea what I'm pratteling on about. He will have his own laws. I taught him in pregnancy, or tried. He showed me how tactile he his, and his love of jigsaws. I showed him zelda and how strong everyone's centre is.

September 03, 2010

well. Never mind the CICA

After leaving my son up the road the came down for an intoxicated weekend. Meet my mum outside matalan slighty worse the wear and me and my boy have been down here ever since. A week after arriving we had temporary accomadation and support, two weeks and we hve a morning nursery place in a new shiny school. Shame about the no spliff rule though after the letter from CICA. Goddam curropt pigs, it's too late for me to backdown but this might jeopordise my safty, I'm in the right place though. my god dont know if i will get used to this keyboard really can't be arsed getting it changed even if it doesn't have a cd drive i can put tunes on usb thingy.

Weather has been so good, lots of long walks, healthy meals and quality time untill I got home today all chuffed cause I piked up my new baby and the sky was still blue. To another totally impersonal and insensitive letter from CICA. pizza for tea, very grumpy mummy means very grumpy boy, tears and tantrums all round. No attempt to address issues and questions asked, right to reply???? I phoned up they are going to send out whatever they have, that will be fun reading. D the support better get it right here, its about the claim at the moment as much the process not fucking me up. Can't let it go, know police can be well tight even when they hate each other.

No hope of compensation, but do have hope for information and memory triggers for my story.

Ohh for booze, for weed, for a bloke, for a women

boo hoo

August 12, 2010

Saint Longshot

I can't hurt to ask.

It could work out just lovely, in fact it is going to work out lovely but if I can get back in there me and wee man would be well chuffed although I'm sure a polish lassie and her family are in there and if so, all the best stay there for as long as you need or longer.

B is sleeping, I told him to take his time, precious cargo after all. Ordered Kate Rusby, tunes for a new beginning..

August 11, 2010

quiet boy

I haven't known what to do with him today, at least it poured down for most of the day so I had a good excuse for letting him have a TV day. Shouldn't have packed.. need to go..
I don't b would let me down, but I don't think a particularly wants to see me I don't want to hang around here while my dad picks away at any improvements in my mental health, I worked bloody hard for those improvements.

I'm sure, T told me it would be okay she'll be watching. I hope she's not alone I think I might need a few of them now. There's still a bit of my thinks its wrong to pray for comfort, for a little more independence or at least honest dependence. I know its bollox though, it will still hurt but it wont be the wall paper like it is here. I know that everyone who has ever loved me and quite a few that didn't hate the thought of me living here, with him and them. In a crime scene, with the echoes of tortured angels and all that mighty evil. How can you go home when your being followed, how can there be any privacy any sanctuary when your moves are someone else's gamble.

I'm a wee woman, I've around a bit, I'm intelligent, educated, firm in my beliefs and capable just get me down the road.


Rucksack full, files burned, supernoodles and new milk cup bought, blue folder not exactly organised but empty of waste paper, support numbers found, notebooks packed.

I hope there isn't a change of heart or circumstances and the lift falls through. I will find that pretty tricky, haven't said anything to dad as he isn't easy to talk to at the best of times, the plan is to say I'm just going for a few days. Avoided any big goodbyes with the rest of family at C's party it's her day. She's got enough to deal with leavin the girls isn't easy, I talked about everyone else moving down to. No one had any issues except practicalities of finding a home. Isn't not the right place for folks like us, it makes you feel abnormal, a human stain instead a human being who hasn't been particularly lucky.

Watched some of Depp's Alice again, I still think its brill, properly atmospheric, true to the darkness of the books, and the scottish mad hater fairly works for me!

It's all going to be okay, sure I'm very nervous but mostly I'm mostly scared of going through all this emotionally for it to come to nothing, I hate it when that happens. When in my head, my flesh, every bit in me is moving forward but circumstances remain out my control. Running till I faint but travelling no distance. It's very spitting, big chunks of me has gone and are waiting for the rest of me to catch up. The distance and obstacles just get further and bigger until thers mountains separating me from me.

sexually confused dreams

a beautiful women, who is totally boobless like a skinny boy
A lovely bloke but when I keep my eyes closed and its the maid that kisses me
I'm confident to say I am curios again, not in lets get wasted and get it over with but in an oohhh touch me sort of way.. its lovely but also a bit intense and nauseating

August 10, 2010

I like when lots of small dodgy poems first start to become a big cool one..

The themes of this one will be music, my dad, healing, incest, storms, travel ...

A cute bloke has emailed me but I can't afford the subscription..
He seems so much more physically attractive than the usual mooses that have been viewing me.
Niece's bday today, which I'm glad of.

Tonight I sort out the dreaded blue folder, comp letters, passport, housing, numbers of rape crisis, portable file storage..
There was thunder last night but slept well for the first time in ages without walking it off in the evening. I thought it would be easier just to stay here because it wasn't raining when I woke up and I wan't still tired. I've been drenching this bridge in petrol for as long as I can remember, if it wont burn the only other option is just to walk, and keep walking. Stick the wee man in his buggy and let him suck in the changes of scenery and then sing them back at me when he's sleepy or in the middle of the night deep in his dreams his eyes shout but his mind and voice opens up.

August 09, 2010


There day he threatened my mum with an ice cream scoop, it was in the morning I can't be arsed with family bullshit before 10 and pretty much blanked it. Ice cream for breakfast, its not anyone's birthday. Yesterday he came home from the pub pissed and pissed off, pretty normal Sunday. Sometimes hes cheery drunk for a little while anyway. He tried to open a cupboard the one with the remaining child lock with frustrated him so he snapped it of, saying something about there being no need for them. I wasn't feeling too tolerant, the pain had come on pretty quick and intense, so I snapped back saying dad was there any need for that? He got right in my face saying don't start with me.

Me and mum agreed it was time to get real, again. Or maybe even for the first time.

A pal phones latter about another pal who isn't coping too well with a relationship ending. He says hes picking us up Thurs. I'm pretty ready, NFA. Time to move on. I just hope someone can get a hold of a cot bed.

Two poem ideas one about music, and about my dad = one good poem.

August 06, 2010


to wade through the notebooks and scavenge everything that burns and everything that sings.

Its words, they are tiring not exhausting. Still though I stare at the screen and the potential like a tumbled down cottage, excellent location, beautiful garden but there is no roof, the electrics are dangerous and the access needs a lot of work..

August 05, 2010


Positive validation is lovely, I'd like much more please
Saw a counsellor she is lovely and has referred me for psychotherapy
I've been referred to gyny too
It's all going to take lots of time
Found a poetry competition with a deadline and a prize I can work for
something to keep me going until OU starts again.

My dad wants his dig money, wee man needs shoes, clothes and a better male role model
I can't hand over my benefits so he can spend it in the bar every night
he might put his drinking as a top priority, above family needs, family wants
but I'm not.

Growing up in shitty clothes, no leisure, taught fuck all social skills
he'd grudge us a couple of quid for sanitary towels when he spend hundreds in the bar
I'm not comfortable with wanting to come back, just for the full fridge
but I need to even scores a little, its closure for me. No cash when angel was born
or all through the pregnancy but he handed my working nephew a couple of grand for better transport
maybe I should reconsider CSA
cant yet though, wont yet.

Hug life

August 02, 2010


Maybe I should spend longer on the appeal letter but it's not easy, my head goes blank. I feel so stupid writing anything, like a clipe, its stupid.

Found "stop mind control and ritual abuse know" and have put it on my list of things I have to do. If anything I am bound to get a sympathetic ear hopefully and hopefully and opportunity to contribute to research. They might be able to help with the claim but if not it should at least be a bit of support.

Dad not working today, one of them in the house is bad enough but both of them is a nightmare, he just reads and doesn't engage or help out, except to give wee man ice cream for breakfast when the fridge is full of fruit. I guess I should get up quicker but its like waking up under a pile of rubble, takes ages to negotiate my way out underneath all the crap before I can communicate or preform essential tasks like going for a pee or getting breakfast sorted. My mum just cleans, and uses the washing machine all day. I hide out struggling to be in the same room, wasting time, hating myself for wasting time and day dreaming about magic fixes. I can believe myself sometimes how hard I used to work, to make things just a little better to give one kid a bit more of chance, to give myself a little real comfort, to expose. The tiredness, the overworked feeling never leaves. Like the dehydration used to get little kids to swallow, the endless takes because I refused. That feeling as your own body betrays you.

Tomorrow I post my shoddy appeal and start an email to smart.

July 30, 2010


Right so the trans guy me and Virtual bought hash from, a mate of hers apparently. She said his old name, that he hang around here years ago, I think she also said he'd hurt a girl. Yea would that be me by any chance?

It destroyed my mulitples, raping the one that always knew when to vacate. I thought he was kidding, he had slapped me. The sex had been lovely but hard for me to understand, people that young shouldn't have sex. Maybe he saw or heard about me and someone else. I remember him asking if it was because of him I cut. The other night when I remembered who he was and a little about how close we were and how fucked up everything was, I instantly felt like cutting.

He has turned up in a few surprising places, I become un me. It felt like I had never really felt like a person until we talked, the way he would treat me, the sex. But the constant pressure for violence and hate, the latent on brutal misogyny that is everywhere when your and abused young man. Powerful feelings, that got the better of him and me.

Abusers arn't people you can fall in love with, I'm too clever to fall for that bull. When I realised I was no different, the drugs and the tricks stopped working I felt and saw everything. He took my last safe place and I know that is not a small matter for him, knowing I am no further forward than I was 15 years ago. Still cringing at others sex lives, still denying my own, still hiding in the spliffs and away from scary people as much as possible. He used to talk so easily sometimes, like he was talking about a day a school, it was so ingrained so part of him. That acceptance of the way things were, he was a bright but twisted lad. I am still in this house, crying and waiting.

July 25, 2010

soon my pretty..

It will be you, me and a glass or two of wine. Our darling boy will be camping and we shall be up all might making art and sense.....

July 20, 2010


Stupid cow sayin I'm the one who needs good luck, got herself a cleaning job and thinks she ace. Glad it fell apart before it went on for to long she wasn't right for me, too negative, too selfish, too grumpy.

It was nice to think I had someone for a while though even though I knew it was a fantasy.

Back to realities of the compensation claim. Really feel like my chances all came to me when I was in no position to take them. They are what they are. In that wee town today, it didn't bother me at all. The vague horrible memories of being there before, didn't seem to matter any more. Then of course I came home and watched Eastenders 'if you have been affected by these issues, phone this number for some indifferent, badly researched advice that will make you wish the bastard had just finished you of..'

Now, now, just because I want a baby, don't have a girlfriend, am well skint and puke up at the thought of working... boo hooo
still got the best kid in the world and a bitchin brain, not to mention the looks I get from people on the street in summertime...

July 19, 2010

Scottish summer misery.

Just a little bit more sunshine, just a little less rain,
Just a little more money and heap less pain
It's not much to ask for,
a menstrual cycle that doesn't floor me
and a bit more honesty and compassion

July 17, 2010

Write grrl, right!

Novel 1 -

more or less me and my fantastic oh my god I wish could imagine this tales. Too focus on poetry drives me mad, I need to dive into something hundreds of pages and thousands of words, something that takes on a proper life of its own instead becoming smaller, the simple statement I was born, I am hurt and I am not stupid or ugly.

The magazine research can take a back seat, the poetry will grow out of the fiction, when trying to put linear narrative on a life of regression, flashbacks and disassociation.

Its stronger than Italy, the connection with the red earth, the feeling of moving beyond dysfunction and negative mutual dependence not in terror but because its a better life, because my needs and my sons needs are the same. Because I love and its nurturing and respectful and not fearful and desperate.

Got a letter from the Government Compensation people the other day, saying there was not enough evidence saying I reported incidents to the police enough or of sexual abuse..
I'd have been really upset my that it wasn't for the antidepressant, the contraceptive pill because menstruating makes me bed bound and the cannabis that frames negative memories in a spiritual faith.

July 15, 2010

Morning Time..

Not doing much work but the grey cells are ticking away.
Glasgow triology
Brava -
about how I love Spain, sexual confusion that becomes a desire to reproduce and be safe.

Anti-depressants work - four aeroplanes 1 unconfident 8 year old, one mine diva, one almost three golden boy, a bampot of a sister, a my mother - no anxiety. Contraceptives work no bleeding no agony, no ovulation misery. Being a bit strict myself, wouldn't let myself take a double bed into my wee office/den/bedroom. I felt wrong in a double bed, like a girl in her mothers heels. Today I will move them! All the swimming, pushing buggies and suit cases up hills in the heat has deepened a need for regular physical activity. My shoulders look strong, my lower thighs look damn good, the steroids are helping the lungs a lot.

Cece still hasn't married that fool, good lass but has put all she was left into her career. I don't have a career at the moment but I do have a history and a reoccurring lust for her on off fiancée. He's a good lad, needs to talk likes motorbikes, getting old enough to want to settle and breed. Our pal wouldn't mind, not now.

Neither or off will make any calls, he might talk, I might tell Virtual, bless her but I need MORE! I will seep into his muscle memory he will say goodbye as naturally and as unconsciously as changing gear, then I start talking to the bike like it's got a pulse, till it pulls him back here and we let our overworked depleted frontal lobes take a back seat for a while.

I do want a career, I have to swallow the pride about Twitter!

July 14, 2010


There was Luis a waiter with a Spanish name and a strong Irish accent. A way of saying 'alright' that makes me feel 9. It broke my heart on the last night when I left to go back to my caravan with my grumpy sister and not sneak of into the warmth of Costa Brave camp site night with his chiselled butt. I couldn't sleep at all, my mum gave me the pull out bed in living room myself, the sofa cousins and pillows were piled up and eased the coughing. The Scottish hormone related sweets some how cured by nights as hot as the best of our days. I was perfectly comfortable, except for the lust that moved around my body, healing and waking. He would of known, they usually do. My dreams wrapping around their senses at opportune and inappropriate moments alike.

There was the cook. He worked like a machine, a race horse with hands that sprinted for days. Dark eyes, slight smile lines that went deep and permanent when Spain went one up over Germany. Late one evening I turned the corner to the take away corner, for more chips and burgers and found them leaning against the work tops their body's close strong and tired, their eyes soft. I smiled as sweet and tipped as heavy as I could, then more so when the battleaxe came in and ordered them around with a voice like an injured stray cats mating.

But gave us the opportunity and motive for a kitchen counter lit breathless eye roll that the women he worked with permitted without judging either of out intentions. I will always love her and them for that. His shoulders shrugged and neck as retracted so slightly but plainly as slumped as he ever could be. Then every line in his upper body stretching, basking in the greasy, steamy tourism polluted air. The smiles in the corners of our mouths.

The French kid on the boat, who winked at me after handing over a bowl of Mediterranean snacks, wee man had woken up hungry and happy after his siesta.

Remembering the way sexual desire for women was never so cute, so flirty, never so life affirming. It was always a shadow I tried so hard to catch a glimpse of, so desperate to know but it would only dig deeper until I was grinding my teeth and physically ill at the sight of a tiny thong triangle above a pair of well shaped jeans.

I am less disgusted by my own boobs these days even if other peoples are still a problem.


July 01, 2010


There is only one real way for me to treat me.

Chocolate, crisps, cake don't fit
I hate being chubby and feeling heavy
this makes me sing and walk and see
As for cunt or cock, the grass is always
much greener. She holds and pushes
but never shoves.

Oh to be in love with something that has a pulse. It has life when its growing, hands and needs. It responds too, warping wiry roots around me dreams and my consciousness. I see where I am and the almost infinite places I could be going to. Free
to stand back, breeze in, stretch out my sides
and choose.


Its going to take about a year!!..
If im lucky. I think fiction I write me in third person, I think me I write about WWII partisans. Its about the writing not the story, I can do that, they grow and I know how to grow them. I don't want to start without something historical, it can simmer in that back ground but I don't want it to take over my whole brain.

Novel - let Gibbons twist up inside me till I puke out all the dreichness and the corruption. Chapter 1. Shrink/ public transport thats all

History - War music - LET IT START

June 29, 2010

PNF (pre novel fever)

I dont like this whole creative developed intertwined with physical illness shit. But my shrink loved it and he was right about a lot of things. My mom shrink didn't, she would of seen it as representing constant struggle, psychological, spiritual, intellectual, physical struggle that has a heavy price, phenomenal wear and tear.

The historical can wait, the only history I want to fictionalise is my own. I will enjoy so much of it but it will take on a momentum and I don't always know when to stop. For so long I didn't think I could be involved with anything for very long, I had to get everything I could out of anything. I never had time to learn how to take my time, its the same with Virtual.

Viva Espania! Presto! Not so scared now, I almost have a bikini body, not a skinny one like fuck that, or rather eh why would you a bag of spanners would be a better bed mate. Can't afford the bikini but that is not the fucking point. Stomach muscles seem to come and go really quick. I am glad, when I see women with waists like hot air balloons, its so much harder to move around when your carrying too much of anything.

I've been hoping to snog a Spanish waiter (and have sex), is that bad?? I feel 15, I'm 30ish. Viva..

June 28, 2010

School dreams!

It's maybe the cold
Not feelin too good this morning, school dreams..
Usual, lost, wrong bus, wrong clothes, not paying enough attention, everything like walking in sand. I think I volunteer for something, then unvolunteered because everyone else was going home.

Fife today I believe, not that I can be arsed. Its probably just the cold, I applied for a good last night, archivist job share. Don't think I've ever read a job description I've liked so much. I could do that! Probably could of guarteened myself an interview through New Deal and haven't though. Not trying that hard! I don't like these kinds of early morning depressed feelings, life on the couch watchin USA tv under a blanket is one thing but waking up feeling like something awful and life changing happened the day before when all I did yesterday was watch England get beat by Germany,read Mansfield and job hunted. At least I could work through the tooth ache, this just feels like a wasteland.

June 27, 2010


I watched England get beat by Germany 4-1 with my dad, I finally feel able to move on..
Strange and fascinating thing football from the post colonial perspective. I'm never sure how I feel about USA, I can't help being roused by the national anthem but equally disgusted by sonority boys.

Virtual is becoming virtual again, she had a night out in Glasgow and txted to say she would rather be in Aberdeen..

June 26, 2010

Saturday, no children..

The novel

Called 'Novel' at the moment.

Just to shameless exploit my own and other peoples experiences and personality for the amusement of my self and others, for possible financial gain - as a career..
There's is nothing else for me, I can't work in police forensic I would need science qualifications and an ability to leave to house for longish periods on a regular basis.

I can't go back to music or films. Forward to it maybe but through poetry, words, art, there is no other way. War music.

'other' is not enough..

She finds it difficult to accept I'm bi, its understandable so do I. Bisexuals are the gays of the gays. She denied it's existence, looked me in the eye and told me I wasn't what I said I was. 'your a lesbian', and she's right anyway inregards to women of Eastern origins. When it comes to Joe Cole, Torres, and few other tight curvy footballing specimens, I'm a quite hetro..

It hurts though when you say your something and hear it denied like that, she's a bit of a home girl. No definite plans to get the fuck out, constant minor family dramas going on.

I applied for a job the other day, full time and permanent, not that I made much effort on the application. Thinking more about going back to GP with that life and opportunity defining word 'diagnoses'.

Wee man away camping. I'm not, two scary sisters, 1 mildly neurotic mother, 2 mini divas, a teething baby, a whinny ignorant brother in law, lots of drink and junk food, two dogs, two tents.

At least there are getting good weather. There wouldn't have been room for me anyway.


I think sometimes, why can't I just write down the stories, the images in my head but 95% are forbidden. Like they are none of my business, they are other people's concerns. Its early days, most of the best writers are not in their early thirties and I know I've a lot more studies to do, to flesh out the skeletons and embellish the fallacies until they are clear as day. I've never had any intention of living fast and dying young, and not just because I'm a mom. Life is a gift, the chances of me personally, wandering around and wondering about this earth is as close as you can get to being 0 without being 0. Our spiritual lives are way bigger a taboo than sex dodgy or otherwise.

Watching La Roux at Glasto,

Im quite jealous of some of their lyrics, tigerlilly, bulletproof. I dont know if they played my fav armour love, I went to bed. Fascination is rubbish though.

She's highly attractive too...

June 23, 2010

:) xx

Its taken 301 txt messages, a box of stawberries I never ate and bubble bath I might never see again but I have gotten what I want out of her, plans to go to a restaurant sometime in the nxt few weeks, provisional plans to see live music and of course the :) xx - thats not high maintenance at all!! My mate sent a message about a Kawasaki that was high maintenance but an excellent ride, it amused me..

I must of seemed pretty cold, changing way faster than any Scottish weather, I tried to keep it cool and mild but she's got the user self centred thing going on sometimes. Not planning our date properly, the loud way she speaks sometimes, its not something that gets me hot and bothered. Just bitter and miserable. Got my own self sabotage to deal with to, like buying all that crap when I'd only met her once. Not being more honest when she told me.

Flirting like fuck on pinksofa though, its summer, Im behaving like a young happy person, except for the poems about ritualised incest and infanticide and the cannabis habit of course..

June 22, 2010

looks like it might be hot today...

Mum had to get me up to take wee man to nursery..

Smoked up pretty much all my hash, not writing much mostly just feeling like a bam. I mean, posh bubble bath, strawberry's, Carol Ann Duffy lesbian love poems, to a regular class A user, HELLLOO.

Never mind, I've invited her out later if it stays nice. I do want to see her but aint having no gfd that chooses that filth over my sweet self. I don't think so.

Maybe that's what the shit dreams were about, not aiming high enough, not sorting out all the crap I have lying around. Cheap badly fitting clothes that should just be put in the bin.

Anyhoo, first draft 'Sanctity', I've been peeing about with it long enough, treat it as serious arty poem about the spiritual reality that exists in every human and maybe in every social interaction.

June 21, 2010


hang on a second
I buy flowers, smelly candals, wine, hash, shave my legs for friking ages and she needs money for lecky, hasdn't cleaned up his flat and spends the sticky money on H. Not amused, more than slightly frustrated..

I am a muppet of course.

3 months out buying flowers and naming kids ffs.


The longest day.

I hope we friends for a very long time but I'm not having my pleasure being such a low priority with my consent, bollox to that. I did well, very well. She bottled more or less, like her effort was all about her; I don't really like that, I know I'm a bit selfish, it take me a while. She is shy too.

Someone has to worship me before I give anything back. I'm not totally comfortable with it but its worked really well with some people.

Probably when a real partnership wasn't an option. The joys!..

June 20, 2010

No violence or hardcore..

No sticky black either, apparently she has another favourite poison, and can't same I'm not disappointed because its not the same as mine. She gets awful bloody stupid road rage, and strops over arguments with her mother. She also has some well nice tattos, a tiger across her back amongst others. I would be lying if I said I never thought about sex with a bloke, a good bloke. She wasn't nearly as forward as I thought she would be, but the first time with anyone is usually slightly frustrating for both. And I don't think that shits too good for the sex drive, damn it. She kept asking me if I was sore, when I was far from feeling any pain, that always breaks the moment and makes me wish I hadn't said anything. I've no intentions of going down on her until she at leasts sorts that flat out, it worse than mine when I was my own.. and that is well bad.

But she had her moments, beautifully tender, which just made me want more. I know I will always have grass is greener issues. Certainly no regrets.. We met each others mothers and fathers before we got naked. We talked about where we could live and how we would go about having kids, intoxicated of course. I think her mum was impressed I bought flowers.

There's always a catch in every relationship and the one thats bothering me most doesn't have to be fatal. She wants support to get off it. There's definitely a few things she says that set of the alarm bells, all that get a good partner and get off it. I told her I can't fix her and she wants off it she will have to stop seeing people that have it and there is space for her here. She wasn't up for sharing it, not a social thing. That bothers me because, I'm like that with my spliffs and I can't see me getting off them for the time being.

I hate its smell.

Haven't written much, too much not sleeping and eating awwww. I want to see if Magma would be interested in anything else. My tutor said something about not liking abstract titles but it works in the case of Transcending. Thats what I've always felt, the extremes of my experience and depth of my insight or interest in how people and the world works justify abstraction. Like thats what its for. It might be a bit early yet though. It 'Therapy' Ive being thinking about calling it 'Sanctity'.I have that and first line that doesn't relate even slightly to the theme of a spiritual faith in psychotherapy being beautiful and right. Things can be right and not not beautiful but never beautiful without being right, following that road is abounding humanity. Anyhoo, family is arriving, and bottles and being clooped. Can't sit up here all day, considering my boundries.

June 19, 2010

got stuff...(got credit)

Got smelly candels (vanilla, no choice in tesco), got Belgian chocolate moose, got rose bubble bath (no hanky panky in bath though I get thrush), got £9 (reduced to £7) French red wine, got tulips in assorted rainbow colours (her favourite), got micro Italian food, she's supplying sticky, stinky black and love sweeties, on pill, don't need condoms cause shes a girl, weather is shit, England couldn't beat Algeria... its looking pretty cute..

Bet she she slaps me or something, or wants to make hard core...

Aha transportation issues, easily resolved with a bit of patience..

June 17, 2010



I have tan lines to work on.


Oh my..

Im getting all hot and bothered.. Can't wait for the weekend, I don't think it's just the good canabinoids, I think I might give it a go. She has beautiful crystals quartz, she is as messy as I am. It's hot outside and the solstice approaches....

June 16, 2010

Got myself a girlfriend then went on the pill.

I think the GP helped she has a way of smiling at me that makes me agree to things that sound preposerous when other people say it. The pill - okay. Not something I have been able to say for a long time. But the ouchies have been tettering into intorable on and off for a very long time now. So does the mood swings and the hormones, I can't function without star flower oil. GLA apparently. Not sure how that will work with the pill, I was okay on it before, I hated being ok on it..

Its all very different now. The tramp only asked for a shag though. I was a bit taken aback what with my son standing 6 foot away and my parents both moving around downstairs. There was hugging though. I can't eat anything...

Sister problem though, it can hangover everyone like a dark cloud. It's one thing when there is dark clouds over everyone else but when there isn't its heart breaking,

June 15, 2010

I mentioned the pain.

All Hail Txts!

Its unlikely I could of said it face to face, 'organisms hurt'. Two words, and no I can't say 'cum', teenage boys, prostitute clients and slappers cum. I organism! And it hurts, sometimes a little, sometimes a lot. I haven't mentioned it to many doctors, far too embarrassed and of course when I have its usually meet with great indifference, but I'm going to give it another go tomorrow. The periods pains have been ridiculous the past few months and the pains there in-between as well and generally makes me tired and want to cry. She seems quite physical, generally up for it and I am a little scared. Have made plans to stay over at the weekend though, no promises.

She asked what sort of flowers and chocolates I like..

Generally when a bloke asks that the alarm start ringing 'player alert', she does txt a little too much about being true and not wanting to mess about. It's a bit early in the day for me for that sort of talk.. but then again I did ask her if she wanted any more kids. Of course slight technical issue in that area and definitely no plans to repeat wee man's conception, no need to worry about organism pain there, eeuu.

Getting used to the new layout but I wish it had been easier to change back to the old one!

June 14, 2010


I thought I was reasonably fit, but walked a couple of miles today and feel like I've done a triathlon. The poems are resting, I've done some good work, nothing wrong with letting things steep for a while. I've been feeling a bit overwhelmed at how many magazines, and possible opportunities there is for publication. Would like to start a novel soon, but novels need more time, a much bigger commitment. Quite chuffed with what 'cauld tattie' has become, and 'ritualised empiricism'. I think I'm a bit on hold until I get grade from final assignment.

Thinking about philosophy, 2nd year doubt I'd ever volunteer for 3rd, but you never know. The summer school too.. Yea I like that, hopefully I wont be flued up like last time. I'm bound to be more confident... but now I need rest.. what a light weight.

I'm not married, he's a paedophile, let it go. Soon I will write bravely, without the bar, can't write that, that can't be real!!!!

June 12, 2010


Maybe even better.

She drove over, her daughter crashed out in the back. We were playing Mario Galaxy 2, I got sick of being nervous and knew that Mario games that arn't platforms can distract from almost evening problem that isn't leathal and a couple that are. We went to the park then for a walk, the kids were great. She really was quite cute but very nervous and talked too much and tried to sound hard. I pouted and rolled my eyes.. perfection is over rated anyway, but it was lovely..


Watched all of 3 seconds of the football, my parents have it on down stairs. Stoneroses in the bath much, much
much better.
She's really cute though,

she phoned last night, slight wasted and I couldn't make out a word but kept flirting in that sarcastic way I do when I mean it. It's definitely ok. Craig Charles doing his funk and sole football themed thing. I will not be amused if the cut 6 music, not one little bit, it can be shit in the evenings, and weekend mornings sometimes but it keeps me sane.

To print, hard copy. To the OU, to parents wine budgets and girlfriends! One step beyond virtual. I should of hugged her, I was terrified she would try and kiss me, which was probably unlikely considering she had just put her wee girl in her seat when my dad came strolling down the road from his usual Saturday afternoon in the pub..Grinning like a lunatic.

bless her.
Later on he said he thought it was a bloke who was coming over, I said a friend was coming over he said something about it being a 6 foot black women blah blah, I shouted back that she was white, but forgot to add she was as short as me. He heard 'He'. He was fine though, she did a butch thing and mentioned single malt whiskey, it was well cute.


I told her I would show her my crystals...

June 10, 2010

shit dreams

There was heaps of, big giants poops. One of them was hung on the washing line. I looked in the toilet and one of them had a note, something about it being my remains of Christmas, all offical like. I think it was a rich house, rich but messy. It's probably a good thing dreaming about shit. Showing things are being purged (and then hung on a washing line?) its maybe to do with poems.

I sent an email that said I fancied her and I'm not so sure, well how could predict that? Im meeting her on saturday though, and getting the bus home early. Day dreams and memories at the moment make sex seem preposterous again.

The work is good though.

June 09, 2010

I am a poet! Therefore I procrastinate!

The prison officer I met on my big lesbian night out has been in touch, we are know fb friends. Felt guilty about speaking to other girls on pink sofa though, then again all that old fashioned values, looking to settle down stuff is a bit heavy, really fancy her though!

June 06, 2010


I think I might have over worked the piece for magma, she only raised a couple of points and I reworked the whole thing. If she liked it before, chances are most of it is more of the same. Put in my own scars, which has to be good, messed about with line then messed about putting it back, ahh the joys.

No money for any of it though, and pretty difficult to job hunt when I could be exploring the extreme images of my youth and reading 20th century greats. Thinking quite seriously about starting philosophy in February. If I'm well aquittal with the txts and have a good idea of the theory, that I usually get excited enough about to pass easy enough. ohh theoretical gender, post colonial studies ohh. I really want some philosophy, and think another summer school wouldn't do any harm. If they are prepared to pay for it and I am keen then go for it, while the iron is hot. I need lots and lots of experiences in my head that arn't done it the shadow of an upside down cross.

I really seem to fancy virtual girl, her photos look amazing and she's not that far away and says all the right stuff. Im trying not to act like a complete idiot just made a date then cancelled it but she is still speaking to me, although not as enthusiastic as before. Bloody stupid shiny pink expensive phone that doesn't work. I wrote a wee poem for her, my romanticism is endearing, maybe even remarkable considering the circumstances it does not make me a soppy useless fop..

June 05, 2010

cooling rain

I rather the hot sunshine..

June 04, 2010


Oh my,
It is looking pretty definite I am going to have actual poems actualy printed.

I also seem to be getting a virtual girlfriend.

It has been mostly warm for three days.

A Contract from Womenwords Publishing in the post, 'River' is to be published under 'Women Loving' and 'Police' under 'Women Laughing' in Sunrise over Manchu Picchu. I know some people arnt too impressed by all the - send a fiver and a poem and we will publish it stuff, but at this stage its great. That is what you have to do with poetry
just get it published, get it out there.

I made a date,
then cancelled it and put three x's at the end of the email.
I am quite excited by this girl. I dreamt last night that I met her before. She lives in an area where I used to live. I'm sure we kissed next to the river and I came to terms with being femm I believed in marriage. She says shes not a player..
neither am I.

'Transcending' is now 'Ascending'..

less abstract, Just like a climbing a flight of stairs, survival is not a choice something that is 'work' it just happens, evolution baby..
Yea so my girlfriend..

Serious matters though,
I've gotten as far as Chris's wedding in Sunset Song Because I was expecting her to be fucked by her brothers, her dad, the neighbours, the prize bull, the runt sheep, it has been alright actually. Not enough mentions of it being cold, wet or 'dreich' for me though. Her marriage is at new year, the night before she strips of and admires her farming toned flesh, naked, in a bedroom. Maybe I missed the mention of a roaring fire.. half of you purple with 3rd degree burns the other half like frozen chicken.

But its hang around me in a a good way. I weather of course, the girl, the txts, she makes me feel like a lesbian. There is that space though that pain, a man believing he can see through her eyes. A women who knows the earth, the beasts. They cant have it all.

Last night Chris lay in field toned arms of a husband of her choice, hymen intact warmed by a fire built by a housekeeper with a father, mother and dependants all either rotting in their graves or being looked after elsewhere, money in the bank. The changes in point of view early on where so promising. Now I'm just bracing myself for the worst.

I was in the pet shop, getting flee treatment or a frisbee for Poppy. I couldn't take my eyes of them. Two women, who were both man and women. I let myself stare, like a redneck at the Mardi Gras, then apologised. The softer, more confident one just smiled back and said,
'That's okay'
I think I may have caused probs, though I heard them arguing outside. The nice one looking pink, strong and indignant. Taking the male/female thing too far.
It's easier in ports isn't it. The honesty forced on by constant change.

June 01, 2010

'original and powerful'

I like that, I like that a lot.
I hope she likes the changes, I wonder what it will be like to see it printed..

Phoned the lettings,
'Do you have your own bedroom?'
'Does your son have his own bedroom?'
'You have 10 points you need at least 25.'

But I've seen babies killed in this house some of them might of been mine my dad drinks to much my mum moans about him drinking too much my sisters tried to kill me and one of them burst my eardrum when I said I was gay I only came back because I broke the system and couldn't move on because I'm the sort of silly tart that has to make sense find closure and know I have I don't hate them anymore its not like they weren't hurt either but the upstairs bathroom is disgusting and I wont clean it cause its my dads mess and there not my parents anyway but they are the closest I have at the moment because my good girl money got mixed with the dirty stuff and I wont touch any of it not that I can remember where any of it is and ive got friends there and everybody lies and it drives me mental and I don't want my son growing up thinking that the best way to deal with shit is to pretend everything is ok which it quite obviously isnt and I want to go home and if I can't go home then I want to start a new one Im much better now I even worked last year which was horrible because I didn't have enough normal experiences growing up and all i see is corruption inequality,bullying and my concentration span is fucked I need to cook in a kitchen where I haven't had to marinate foetuses for the wealthy or felt so much pain my heart stopped

'Can you send out another medical form please?'

May 31, 2010

Lost Dreams

Whenever I think I'm beyond a certain dream it returns as if I've done nothing since it started. London/Glasgow a big city, that will be the world I want to be part of, myself. I lost my phone and my luggage and missed the train home because I forgot to check the time it was leaving. Lost of people comfortable and competent and me staring at cakes in windows, not sure if I can afford them, not sure I'm allowed them.


There's been shopping dreams recently I think, when I'm tripping around with an entourage, serious and focused but ultimately alone. Sitting a tables while people buy and sell my time, my flesh, my brain. It's not something I forgive easy.

May 30, 2010

A bad day avoided.

erbacce can crawl up their own four letter words.

Taking themselves a bit too seriously there. Poetry in the electronic age is as awkward and as beautiful as the work it's self. Nothing can be gained by being snobby about the difficulties caused by communicating across different levels of literacy and access to technology.

All the work I saw didn't go much further than exploring the meaning of the word 'fuck', valid, but you need more; anyone who has been slapped more than once can do that. Especially if you can't be arsed pressing the Fwd button; twats.

May 29, 2010


It's back, pre premenstrual ouchies. Like my womb is trying to get rid of it's self.
A burning tightness, that spreads to my thighs, heart and boobs making me slow, tearful and irritable. Bless you pinksofa though, it's brought heaps of smiles recently. Still feel a bit of a fraud though, cause I looked up a bloke on bebo yesterday, first glance and I was all chuffed, not interested. But now I keep seeing his face, and remembering that electric touch. I am a confirmed fag hag. I always need to have someone I'm thinking about all the time, it's a survival thing. I might never get over it but that's okay there are worse things and people to obsess over.

I wonder it's connected to the pain, H would of thought so. He also believed me and psychosomatic pain were a little too intimate and I couldn't disagree. Might get some help from dreams if I could be arsed remembering them. There was something about someone looking for the corkscrew, 'magic willie man' as he's called. A miniature of the statue of the boy peeing, it used to scare me as a kid for obvious reasons. No wonder I'm terrified of sex.. thinking little boys had pointy, twisted penises that could take a cork out a bottle.

The advice was generally to rest, if that's what I want to do. Which might piss mum and dad as there have to care for River, feed him, dress him, talk to him, hug him I can manage that. The park might have to wait for another day...

Struggling with his grandad a bit recently and his gran. The usual gap between making a decision and making it real I have no bloody patience. I keep thinking about switching on and off my own light switches, having a kitchen thats mine all mine, and a bathroom. It will take a while for the novelty to wear off.

I'm certain again, but don't need to tell anyone and everyone face to face.

They bloody did.

May 28, 2010

He tried to kiss me!

It was a nice enough evening but too cold to stand about so I went for a walk, thinking the exercise might help me sleep better. On the way home I passed the local and went in, why not? Might as well replace the calories burned of by walking. There was to my surprise a vaguely interesting man in talking about watching the dolphins in the bay. He was quite drunk and wanted to exchange numbers, which is fair enough. Grabbing me outside for a kiss however, wasn't.

I am not any less confused, the whole sex, dating, attraction shit completely mystifies me. I look at youngish blokes a lot, they often look strangely familiar but when they start making moves, I like the validation but also feel uneasy, like he's got me confused with someone very, very different.

I txted him this morning to say thanks for the Guinness and to give me phone if he's around. If he phones back I will lay it on the line. I am very confused at the moment so keep your hands to yourself.

The bar maid was gorgeous though. Thankfully I don't think I need to worry about her trying to kiss me.. What a relief.

I sent out 'Transcending' yesterday and the end of course. Quite excited. Getting better at reading them out loud. I also have a new one 'Glasgow Fair' from an old prose piece. The prose isn't much use, it's not how I think, how I experience.
I often think about a long one but don't want to use shorter poems. There's plenty to write about. There's a free entry competition that asks for six pages. Maybe I could give it a go. Something big could include the 'rationalist cowl' that keeps haunting me. Something that challenges Milton, that answers Godot and then some. I may have to wait until I have studied more.

May 26, 2010


I was quite drunk, walking down steps in heels carrying a bag with my overnight stuff.
Some of the women were standing smoking and talking at the bottom of the steps. It was sunny. One of them noticed my condition and offered her hand.
'Thank you.'
'Your very welcome.'
'Good night.'
'Good night.'

I think I heard one of them say she couldn't believe I'd gone home without getting off with anyone. I think the one who offered her said she thought that was probably why I was leaving. I saw her watching as shook hands and hugged goodbye with others inside. I really was quite, quite drunk.

There was a warmth, a closeness, a strength. Whatever I am, I love butch women.

Mum didn't seem to happy when I asked if my sister had any plans to deal with her drinking. She can't go on like that forever. I just keep thinking of the wee ones, looking at there mum in that state. The glazed eyes, to total lack of awareness of whats going on around her. Maybe mum thinks I'm no better but I always have plans. I talk to doctors, I seek advice.

The end of course is practically postable. I'm getting a bit sick of it now anywhere. It goes tomorrow, or the day after if I can't get to the post office. There's a bit in the middle I'm not sure about but that stands to reason.
Its a million miles away from most of the poems I've read in journals. So much of it has very little to say beyond 'arn't humans complicated' maybe thats all mines says too.

I don't my tutor got that I lifted that cross for real. I thought about putting more detail in about what it was like when I was alone and tried to lift it, ouch. I started just by putting my fingers under it, then lifted it a little higher every time.

Don't feel anywhere near writing it in prose yet. It will probably come, maybe when I least expect it.


May 22, 2010

It's back!

91% I was hoping for 92% bastards..

The 1 is looking a bit tricky but I am well proud, I've read the feedback twice but still struggle to focus. It takes a lot out of me but its stuff that I can't use for anything else and just gets in the way. Keep going, enter the competitions. A social life would be lovely but I'm not going to get 91% if graded on that..

It's the commentary that's being a bitch, it always is. I will have to include references to new feedback in it. but first I have to sober up and figure out what the fuck he is going on about. Hail sunshine! Hail words!

Four seasons.

The temperature has doubled, the air is like fresh soup and everything rust coloured is jade. Last night there was storms, close thunder shaking everything to its core. Rain battering down like a power shower. Today is supposed to be hot, working on my tan is top priority.

My sisters family stayed last night. She's hitting the grog a bit too much again. The rest of the family did the rational thing and got drunk. I sat sipping Rose, spliffing up and muttering about 'support' 'get information'. Then went in the shower, brushed my teeth for ten minutes, read up on grammar and went to sleep.

It all started a bit early today though, everyone small or female out of bed my 7am. I held on but when the tub of chocolate sprinkles was added to my relatively clean bedding I had to give in and get up. It's looking lovely outside, I love a good May, snow, hail, sunburn, ripe fragrant air, proper thunder.

Still no result yet ffs. Final assignment is coming a long nicely, the 2 is in the bag maybe even the 1.. Next steps, grammar focus in poem, quotes in commentary. References are all ready written. I am quite excited about it. It's been a creative time long may it continue.

May 17, 2010


Sometimes you just have to take a deep breath, trust yourself and drink, and the drink some more. Until it all starts to look very clear.. Did I mention 'daffodil rites'?
It's cool either way.

Being in that state in a regularly biases however, publicly or otherwise is not a good idea.. Thank feck I am so hangover intolerant.

Even if I am aware of looking at men and thinking 'mmm' more than women. Especially gay ones, the outer the better. Trans is the future. It's official. I've added it too the dictionary.

Hasn't helped with the housework though.

May 14, 2010


typical first night 'out' ever and I'm aching and bleeding. Of course, I don't believe in a mind body split, thats the tool of universal oppression that is.
Pain and spliffs (more please) are not too bad for writing, maybe should add that too commentary. The difficulty focusing removed by pain (and painkillers). It is relevant to the quote 'happiness writes white' and my argument against on the grounds that is the wet suicidal victimised Romanticism.

Another poem? Flapjacks - the footballer equivalent of 'police'.

fuck, fuck. Can't eat, can't take ibuprofen.

It's agony waiting for the grade for the last one, can't even remember what it's called now? What was it about again, oh aye, mountains and crosses. Yep, feedback please.. NOW.. help..

May 13, 2010


War poem is now 'Apologies to the unregistered dead.' and is flowing not too bad. Inroads into the commentary, but a long way to go if I want a grade above the high eighties. More references to the poem, my notebook and other poems.

The thought of moving isn't scary any more, the light it's not a freight train. At worst it's someone on a bicycle and another tunnel.

May 12, 2010


Looking at research degrees at OU. Not quite ready for that but it is an option. I don't think the best way to challenge the denial of ritual abuse is necessarily for me to use the same methodologies that deny it. Although it needs to be done, and is very possible. It wouldn't be much fun. Maybe something to work towards. The Ma in literature though, I think I could do that. Registered for 20th C. texts and debates, after years of putting it off.

Printing of competition deadlines and using like TMA deadlines is a good idea, so is using facebook and LGBT stuff to get myself out there. As cringing as that is to say. I have been told officially by a health visitor that people don't have kids taken away from them for having too many jammie days and messy bedrooms. The final assignment is hanging heavy, floating but very very heavy. It would be an awful lot to get my rather telling and not showing voice recognition. Like that, as long as there is some details it doesn't sound like moaning, someone lamenting the horrors of their situation without actually doing anything about it. Talking about the subject until there is closure (Chicken Little).

May 11, 2010

Travel Sickness (dont eat fish related things out of bowls in public places or sit in the middle of zafira)

Travelling with family is great isn't it?

As many generations as possible in the smallest spaces possible, nothing better.

Back now though after travelling to and fro though the next place I'm going to live, and the hotel rooms were actually pretty big with teeny tiny balconies you could smoke from if you closed the curtains behind you.

First poetry competition, first short list.


May 09, 2010

'Transcendence' submitted..

Will number 5 is out of my hands. My God it feels good.

Now War poem takes over after I've let it simmer while I and see the olds. Slight paranoia that the dream about the car seats is a premonition of a car crash. It had that feel about it. I didn't like seeing them in the garage without their covers. ANYHOW...

I'm quite chuffed. the commas, full stops and shit arn't sorted but I made good efforts and the report is ok and its 9 am. Beautiful.

The journals are ace I was put of before because I thought the would be beyond me but I think I'll fit right in.

May 08, 2010

Study plan

Mum didn't look to pleased when I said I wanted to post the next assignment before we leave for my grans tomorrow but I don't care. I need this, wee man needs this, she needs it to she just can't admit it. I can't do what she did to make family into a complete life instead of just an element because things got rough. She was always so much better at busying her self to avoid telling with stuff. I'm not able to do it, I need it written up and dissected.

The longer one needs to wait, I have to focus on 'Transcendence' the name for the work that began as big wooden cross.



Nobody likes me
Everybody hates me
I think I'll go and write poems
Long fat scary wanes
Wee short cheeky wanes
See how they wriggle and turn.

If your sick to the back teeth have them extracted, my the time you are over it you wont be sick of anything for a while.

I am not gay
I am trans
beyond, moving
above the black and white
of other peoples's gender.
Seeing things as they are
not as we wish them.

'My name is Daffodil
I am a lesbian
and it's has been bloody ages..'

Get beyond resonance.


May 07, 2010


The usual bumpy start and its always scary to but now things look interesting....

First poetry journal arrived with a free packet of sunflower seats. I found them waiting for me after I walked home in the occasionally warm sunshine. Darling fell asleep on the bus in his new funky buggy, although it wasn't very funky at all when it tipped on a corner. He was not pleased for about 2 minutes then nodded of. Met a non relative type person for lunch its all kind of civilised. Committed to night out to which is good, very good and quite scary.

I wish I had started subscribing to the journals years ago they are excellent. There's letters discussing show don't tell and a wee ditty I could use as the epitaph to the story of my life. Competition details to. Its spring and young,beautiful and almost healthy. x

Hung parliament, well well. Interesting politicians forced to barter in public like the ageing abused prostitutes that they are..

May 06, 2010

no sunshine but much less rain.

Last night I felt pretty stupid, thinking I'm not a lesbian or a poet and rebuilding past relationships is pathetic and Stockholmish.

This morning, when the wee man eventually shouted me out of bed then pulled me out again after I'd crawled back in, I am feeling better. I didn't destroy the poems, or slash my arms, I didn't rake around in the bin to make a roach spliff, which makes me glad especially since the bin is full of banana skins and sanitary towels. What I did do was check out women on pinksofa updated my profile and considered who I should vote for today. I guess it has to bed lib dem although I'm not comfortable with Clegg, I actually prefer Cameron, in a way. I may be older and maturer but voting Conservative would involve me splitting the taped together remnants of my personality... Not going to happen.

It's all bollox anyway we don't vote in the civil servants, the business leaders or the press who really run things. It's like choosing who puts on your make-up but having no say who your doctor is or if you even have one. Not to sure about that metaphor but I know what I mean.

Really struggling with the poems, the magazines go on about wanting poems that have something to say, that are modern but when I've read what they have printed a lot of it just seems obscure and esoteric. Pretty meaningless to a women telling stories about corruption, satanism, courage in the face of horror.

I've only been at this a couple of months, chill out and enjoy it!

May 05, 2010

Reel me in or cut me loose.

I wish I had more faith, the sort of belief in myself in others and justice I used to have. It makes for much better dignity, instead constantly of pacing around, needy, listless and unmotivated. Two years ago last new year was the last time we talked, I think he said he wanted to finish something, make it for me. Which sounds a bit like a goodbye but he wouldn't admit it, committing isn't the problem. It's uncommitting, I know it's not right to put all your faith into one person but its not easy to undo once done. I will have other relationships, with strong beautiful women he will not haunt every time I kiss someone or wake up in a bed with someone else in it. She will not have to walk away because I'm too involved with someone from the past.. Maybe we can just be friends.

There is art without, there is voice and song, it will be different and not as lucrative or so widely received but it will be enough.