11:11 (a wish for my pet monster)

September 27, 2015


The 4 horsemen of my apocalypse.

I want that again, something like it or something altogether better.

I said that very thing out loud and within 72 hours 2 ghosts became corporeal. Another a week later.

It’s a super blood moon eclipse tonight, I have got to focus. Or do I?

That feels wrong in my mouth. Heart and gut concur.

4 monsters.

I am piecing together parts of a whole. I know they exist, I have seen them with my own eyes.

Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein was considered horror because it portrayed a man playing God. She said he was beautiful. Her creature was a blasphemous abomination against the Lord. I am glad she lived when she did and cannot see what we consider horror now.

Poor Kyle.

My girl and I re-watched AHS Coven.

I’ve never seen her mad before. I had a little haunting mid binge, she lost her shit “Not one of these guys is good enough for you, look at what they do to you. You deserve grand wonderful love from someone spectacular, like a movie star or something.”

I turned to her and said “but I want that, can I just have that” pointing at the TV. “This road goes two ways.”

Kyle was devoted, Zoe was his savior, they protected each other. Perfect balance of emotional and physical strength. He just let her be magic and loved her ferociously. He could’ve had 2 girls, he chose her.  I think that is what got me, that and playing cards. I really miss playing cards.

I have to leave monikers out of this post. You understand.

Chronologically. The sum of my monster…

The first. His face, I could watch him for days. His eyes are hypnotic, he holds my gaze like it’s sacred. His laugh sends lightning bolts though my girl parts. His empathy matches mine. His words, his voice, his attention, the things he shows me. The way he surprises me. The way he moves. He is protective but not possessive.

The second. He is fae, like me. Never met my kind before. He loves like I love and I love that. I want it back now. His ability to turn on a dime from sweet to consuming. The magic in his mouth. His skin and bones. Spoke in tongues. I wonder if anyone outside the two of us would have understood what we were saying. I feel like I slipped into another language when I was with him, the one I was born to.

Damn, I already fucked this up.

I keep meaning to make a flow chart of some sort. ‘The Fucking Tree’ or a map to the stars. They keep coming and going. “I’ve named all the stars the same and there is terrible confusion” (Druscilla in Buffy the Vampire Slayer)

The third. Mary Poppins he. Practically perfect. I want the life he promised us. I want the challenge he provided. I miss my muse. I crave being that open with someone. Him slipping around in my guts, me braiding and knotting his into bloodstained safety nets to catch the both of us. That fucking mouth, teeth and all. That sensitive, cruel mouth. We all know I love a good juxtaposition.

The fourth. Something about him I just can’t shake, because I don’t want to shake it. There is juxtaposition here too, between who he is and who he appears to be. I see the mask he wears, but he doesn’t wear it for me. His vulnerability makes me feel trusted, like I have been given the key to the lost city of Atlantis. The way he plays, with the good parts of my childishness. His drive. His passion. The way he always wants to be touching, because it feels good.

All 4 I have seen some semblance of a future with, smiled at what I was shown.

Tonight is a changing moon, a wishing moon but wishes are flimsy things, so delicate and easily set adrift.
Instead, these are my intentions. I hereby let everything go to see what comes.

We shall see.

Honorable mentions

There is one who accepts of all of me all of the time. ‘I love it when you are ______ (insert current mood)’. His unwavering support, forgiveness and consistency.

There is one whose chivalry is innate. I can’t explain it. Just the way he moved. Safest I have ever been.

There is one who…bag of frozen peas. Enough said. With like zero down time. That was some damn fine sex.

I have found my people.
Well, I found me then they came forward and said ‘Took you long enough. Welcome home mama”.

This is a whole new experience. Knowing I am empathic and the connotations that come with that on every level. It’s much better here. I am accepting and accepted.

I have allowed myself to be, myself. No more hiding or adapting to suit my environment. I made my own. When someone comes over and says ‘sanctuary’, I know they belong. I am happy to be home.

I like me, which has made me (no not egotistical) loveable, and powerful.

I have readjusted wants and needs and ideas of what is possible.

I met my absolute equal, it went weird, and at this very moment (like just now) I just realized I know this isn’t done. Nothing is ever over, there is no such thing as never or forever. He’s magic.

I know my tiny human brain can really grasp how amazing things can really be for me. But I know the universe knows, I dream about it. I see it in small moments and say thank you. The more I let go of, the bigger I get, the more room I make for magic, serendipitous bliss.

The thing that scared me the most is the thing I’m most excited about now.

I found my brave.

“Ahem” hear ye hear ye…I want to be loved the way I love. Amen.

The way I love is amazing.
It is without jealousy, attachment, conditions, and limits. It is protective and nurturing and inspiring and healing, childlike and hungry to learn and eat and fuck all the damn time. It wants to be touched and acknowledged and sometimes left alone with understanding. It is trusting and trustworthy and full of the truth. It is the kind of love that sets you free. It is all consuming and liberating. It wants to choose and be chosen over and over.

A kindred spirit for me. The fifth element. I know he exists and I know its time.

Let everything go and see what comes.

How does it get better than this?

Be love…and be loved.

Yes. Please. This.





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