I felt my heart flutter and for once wasn't scared.

I walked to the coffee shop today, after having hidden all quiet and clean in my bedroom.

The moment I stepped outside was intensely beautiful. I walked slowly, lengthening my stride and slowing the revolution of my hips. It was like I was in a trance.

The wind whispered by me, all around my body like benevolence personified. It was real to me, and alive; this elemental kiss.

My hair spun out of it's tie and twirled in the breeze, like something I'd read in a wistful novel. It was a moment of intransigent beauty. And it still lingers on my skin...

Dust Buster out That Skull Girl..

I sloughed the snakeskin, kicked off the layers of ruffles and petticoats that were was dragging me down into the deep further that is that unwanted part of my consciousness.

I screamed wordlessly, but as loudly as I could; "STOP!"

My head fills with bright white noise, so painful and deafening inside of my skull. I clasp my hands over my ears futilely when this happens, barely being able to gasp, all in a rigor. Afterwards everything is more vivid.

The sound of mucus rattling in my throat when I clear it are chipped alabaster charges. The Am chord I strum is violet and bordered.

My insides are a topsy turvy Wonka like land.

Walking and Talking With Nonsense Pouring Out...

There, in that tiny room I am supposed to find salvation. Surrounded by strangers who turn their eager hungry faces towards mine.

Is this where I'll find it? Humility, forgiveness, and peace? Under flickering florescent lights that make hollows where there were none in my eye sockets?

Sucking my tongue, I recount my evils. Tapping my nails, I avert my eyes. I have a shiny metal disc again. They collect and clink together in my wallet.

Does it even mean anything?

Kern Park Beckons.

I am smashing out my addiction today. I'm going to weave through the sidewalks, stepping on cracks and sunspots. I'll float like a feather in a Nico song, and walk through the doors. Those blue eyes. They burn me, burn into me. And they look exactly like mine. Maybe they are mine.

Sweaty skin to skin contact, an instant surge of desire and terror. I am so nonchalant in my wariness. But now, it is time to peel and open the cocoon. I have pupated. Like a feather in the sulfurous air of my neighborhood, next to the burned out and blackened car.

And the Cardinal Hits the Window...

I picked up Dusty first thing this morning, tuning and coaxing sounds from her tired strings. The window is open, and birds sing, and insects crawl about in my yard.

I thought of Jackie, and played and sang Casimir Pulaski Day, not expecting my voice to break and tears to fall.

Cancer of the bone. It stole her vibrancy. It robbed us of her presence. It washed her away like she never was.