misstree (i expect this place to be filled pretty quick in the coming month)

again again again again again
i stepped right into it
ohgod i wouldn't trade it for anything
but there's a rhyme, somewhere,
about what horrors might a man have wreaked
that his son would be born a poet,
it's a curse, see, it's this unstoppable
Feeling, this addiction to words and
more than that, addiction to
the things that birth them out of me, and
again again again again again
i'm walking away,
half a heart, and
why does my dream come true hurt so much? and
even the sting of my headbutt lump doesn't
make it sting any less, i want to
hide, i want to
not let you see my face, because
it won't be long before you make me fess up
to why i'm so scared and
why i keep leaking and
that's the absolute last thing
i want to do right now,
the last thing i can handle,
but it might have to be the first.

please, baby,
it's my turn to freak out.
if you can't be strong for me now,
i'll need you to be gone from me now
(not that i can, i mean,
each bit becomes painfully precious,
i know how it is,
and i know how any promises of tomorrow are,
they never work, distance is the best
disinfectant, and
it won't survive, i need to get
everything i can from you in the meantime, and)

oh my god
what have i done.

oh my goddess
what have i done.

i got my wish.
i got my

fuck you, eris.
in the ear.
with a spoon.
Lemon_Soda . 040331
misstree hyperventilating all day
since i left the bar last night
just when i let myself slip
i gotta tear myself apart again
gotta make peace
gotta make peace
gotta make peace
and boy is this going to bleed.
misstree i just want to sick up in a corner
and maybe when i'm ready to stop dry-heaving
have someone come by and ask
how i'm feeling.

never could puke outside a bathroom, though. i'm good at hiding myself away. kind of.
Lemon_Soda . 040331
misstree it's funny
i think these
freakout moments and
uncontrolled eyeleakage and
generally not dealing well
is an excellent shield
when you're irrational,
you don't have to face up to anything,
admit you feel anything,
deal with
a gawd damned thing
except trying to hide
from coworkers
and those who would
worry if they saw
the true state of inner affaris.
hysterics gives me a bit of a buffer
before i have to start
goodbyeing and
packing and
discarding and
severing and
planning and
doing one last round of doctors and
fretting and freaking and
not having such a convenient insanity.
oldephebe 0 040331
misstree i can't live for you
i can't help
anymore, i can't
fix anything, i can't even
find the pieces of myself, these
quiet explosions are still doing a number
on the landscape, tearing chunks of
rock and sod and hapless
vegetation gone suddenly ablaze or
just torn to crippled pieces, and
the wildlife in here is howling, i really,
i feel you so deep in me, i wish
i could run an evac squad so you won't
get hit by it, so you won't feel it, and
will you even notice how much it
hurts me to hurt you, have you seen
how hard i've tried to help you open
without pain, without fear, just
poet's soul, horse's tongue,
not scared of you, scared of
everything everything
maybe it would be better if
i had been scared from the get go because
now everything is different, there's
a clock ticking in the classroom, there's
a detonator set for three weeks, there's
too much to do and too much to goodbye and
we're great with meatwounds, but
headwounds, those are more than just
collisions on top of bruises, those are
deeper aches, the ones that bring forth
animal noises and desperate, clutching hands and
why does it have to be you hurting me like this,
i promised myself, i wouldn't let it, and
now i'm telling myself these pretty lies, like
i'll rescue you when i leave, if this town is eating you
i will pull you out of its maw, but i know
how distance disinfects, i know
that by then you will have closed yourself to me,
i knew i was never the one, i never will be,
and you say i'll find mine someday but
i know it's a lie.

i just wanted a little more meantime
with you.
i'm not ready to run
just yet.
i've never been ready
when it happens.
you'd think i'd be better
at handing my heart to someone
and walking away,
or watching them
fade into their own distance.

it never gets easier.
it just gets easier to
hole myself up and keep myself
half dead, aloof, uncaring,
but i fucked that one up too.

toomuch toomuch toomuch
too much.
and i can't even hide in you.
misstree momma,
through all the fuck_yous, i have a favor
or five.

you probably have these covered,
but when in the middle of being
beaten within an inch of your life,
it's good to know you have insurance.

please let the playmate and i
not be as horrible to eachother
as i know we could be.
we have sharp sharp claws
and terrible teeth, and
we're both wounded predators right now.
i know this story.
this is where we start wounding eachother,
thinking it will make things easier,
when that's the farthest things from the truth.

i need to
leak, i think,
all over him tonight.
i'm supposed to see my brother,
but i don't know,
i can barely stand seeing myself.
seeing the playmate will be
its own kind of hell.
i may find a cave to curl up in
and have to beg brother blue's

momma, also
let me leave this town
in a deserving fashion.
it's been years,
and i need to not go out
with tucked tail.

please don't do
what you did to me before nola.
i'll need every scrap of resource i can gather,
emotional and physical.
please let this fall in my favor.

and one more thing,
my beloved bitch,
please please please
don't let this be a regret.
i know it's right.
it's just fucking hard.
Lemon_Soda . 040331
misstree they're all so happy for me... i should be, too... but i feel like i've been punched in the gut... handed something heavy and awkward and funnysmelling... the tears are drier now, that's good good good... but still... it's all Wrong... but it's not... it's just me kicking and screaming... but god is it terrifying... it will take me all this time to make peace... to tear out the proper wires... 040331
misstree throws privacy to the winds the letter to the playmate... my head is healing, excitement is kicking in, but there's this big fucking nasty black hole right in the middle... it's trying to eat me... i won't let it... but it's so fucking familiar... "been here before, in different times, different places, and the empty street afterwards knows me better than any lover ever will..." and he is so fucking incredible and how many have i walked away from, simply because of this gypsy curse? how many have walked away from me, left me in winter's grip with a handful of poems they'll never see?

the letter to the playmate... this is the hard part... this is what i'm hung on... this is the hook in my gut... and i'm stalling, because it will be nastynasty but neccesary to rip it out...


i'm going to start babbling here and i don't know what's going to come gushing out and you have to pardon me, please, because "i don't want to freak you out" and for that i need you to understand me, start to finish, and i need to make sure i leak every aspect i can.

last night i couldn't tell you what was wrong, what kept slamming me in the gut like a sledge. hear me out. it's you. everything else in this town could burn down for all i care, i've had enough, i've seen it over and over. i've been sick of it for a long time. fond, yes, and i will truly miss seeing my neighborhood in urbana bloom, but when i'm a crazy old cat lady i'll get to see it bloom every year. but i'm sick of it, i want to sweep it off the table in one grand motion. all of it. except you.

dammit, even just typing it brings it painfully close to, i don't know, whatever kind of reality words have. and i guess i should explain a bit better. i haven't had enough of you yet. and we've been slacking, there is so much more to be pushed and nowhere near enough time to do it in, and one of the regrets i will carry is that i didn't take more from you while i had the time. and i will miss you. of all the shit in this town, all the beauties and familiarities and fondnesses, it's you that i really have to rip myself away from. i fucked up. i slipped. i got attached. my own fault, and now, well, what can i do but say, "shit, this is gonna hurt, good thing most of the rest of this is relatively painless." take comfort where you can, neh?

and why is it gonna hurt? (my brain is prodding itself, it's a rather interesting feeling.) "i'm attached" is a bullshit answer. it's because i verymuch enjoy having you around, because you're easy to talk to when i need to rest my brain and easy to argue with when i don't, because you know things i don't know and i haven't gotten to poke deep into them yet, because i've never, *never*, had a lover as good as you and sex is the tiniest bit more important to me than i like to admit, because you're there for me when i need someone and sometimes i can be there for you too, because you have a million stories i haven't heard, because i verymuch enjoy playing and hunting and resting and sleeping and struggling with you, because you have beautiful hands and you are brutal but not cruel and wonderful Lizzie is the perfect cat for you and you speak to spirits and you are so passionate when you let yourself be and you need out of here so bad and you are strong but your first layer is brittle and you love to read and you are so Alive, and because you are a rare fucking creature indeed, and i know what kind of long dark deadzone it will be before i find anyone even close to your caliber, i know *way* too fucking well what mentally and spiritually and sexually and emotionally starving is like, and you are a five course meal.

because i've been here before. because everything beautiful leaves, and i almost never get to be bitter about it--it's an open affection that leaks all over the place forever and ever. because it's a whatif i can never allow to form on my lips. because i will always wonder, because that's the only way that regret can get me. is taking things away. and there's no two ways, no choice, and i'm the one with the blade that only goes one direction, and that's fine. that's the flavor of this particular loss.

but i'm leaving a piece of me with you. and someday i'll run out.

part of me keeps trying to invent these pretty lies, that we'll see eachother again someday, that it's not neccesarily the end, but it keeps getting locked up like some fucking hippie protester that won't stop screaming at the people that are trying to contain the toxic spill. i know how distance disinfects. i know that if i see you again after yellowstone, it will be different, you will have found a new playmate or five and i will have hardened myself against you and the worst thing we could do would be to pretend things could be the same. i know what happens when paths split. and it's okay, see, i'm dealing with it, i've done it before and i'll do it again, it just never will be easy.

so when i really get quiet and won't say why, when i lash out at you for no reason or suddenly grab you and squeeze you, this, this whole fucking spew, this inevitability and pain and affection and defiant joy and this whole thing, is why. saying goodbye to everything else is easy. saying goodbye to you is another matter entirely. there'll be a whole lot more tears between now and "harrumph. let's do this," and i'm probably going to do everything in my power to hide them from you. just bear with me, please. i want to suck every bit of marrow out of you i can before i leave. to do otherwise would be a regret that i can't brush off.

fuck you. i cherish you.
do you understand now?
LS . 040402
LS misstree 040628
misstree my stomach is tied up in knots, i can feel my ulcer laughing gleefully though i haven't been drinking lately, i'm paralyzed but fighting for every movement, while despair sucks hungrily at toes and then ankles...

had to quit the canvassing job, i recoiled in horror and fear when i realized that my two week paycheck would be less than $200, not enough to get me into a new place, and i have to be out of this one by the 19th, and i'm so scared of couch surfing, i'm so tired and so confused and so stressed that it just seems like another impossible mountain in my path but i know that i will climb it if i have to and i may have to... so i have no job and no money and all the places i want to apply for jobs are far enough away that i would need to take the bus but i have no money for a fare... i finally typed in my resume but i have no way to print it out... i have been halted in every step by something, and the only thing i have to soothe me is that i have taken each step, i have tried to, and that i have fucking tried, but there is nothing to show for it, which is more fingers in my belly, laughing nausea... talked to a possible sublet last night, while i hope to god i can get it, i know better than to pin any of my slender store of hope on it... supposed to go talk to another sublet tonight, but she's supposed to call me with directions, and i have no working phone, and i have to use the 'rent's phone card at a pay phone and hope the mum doesn't get pyst about the $5 service fee...

no job... looming of no place to live... i have a bike, but no lock for it... i have no bus fare... my one friend in this town is off in idaho... and i'm nauseous and scared, so fucking scared... and all i can do is keep pushing, shove blindly with the tears in my eyes, hope that something somewhere will open up onto justification for all this hope... everything i have, everything i am, is being rendered down to effort and hope, because there is nothing else i can do... and there's not much more of me left... and i'm so fucking lost...

i need to go out now and try to apply for public aid and print my resume and go by the canvassing office and talk to a director (though i left a message, i haven't had a chance to actually *talk* to anyone about me no longer working there, not the best way to leave a job but i stopped by once when the director wasn't there and i've been stressing myself sick this whole week)...

shit... i pity the fool that reads this, concentration of stress and screams that it is... and there's nothing that anyone can do to help... i don't want your love or your trust... it'd be an empty investment right now, there's no body home, i'm going through the motions until it's safe to be back in my mind again... "cold as a razor blade, tight as a tourniquet, dry as a funeral drum,"... no, not quite, a wet rag thoroughly wrung; a roadkill farmcat, the last_breath passed and now empty; a lonely night where the silence is never broken, and finally sleep steals in to cover everything in mercy...

wet rag needs to get herself out the door... sorry if you read this...
what's it to you?
who go