misstree's_hysterics_hut misstree (i expect this place to be filled pretty quick in the coming month) again again again again again again i stepped right into it and 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 motherfucking wish. fuck you, eris. in the ear. with a spoon. 040331 ... 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. 040331 ... 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. 040331 ... 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. 040331 ... 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 fucking much. too much. and i can't even hide in you. 040331 ... 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. one, 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 patience. momma, also let me leave this town in a deserving fashion. it's been years, legendary, 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. 040331 ... 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... caesar, 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? 040402 ... 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... 050714 what's it to you? who go blather from