Do not read this

What kind of dirty socks do you have —

Those carefully picked up or left everywhere?

If there are too many, do you care?

And how do you respond if triggered, 

Whether accidentally or on purpose?

What is it like when it’s your darkest hour?

I’m curious if your demons are scarier than mine.

Let’s have a contest! lol

Mine are screaming in my face, so fucking loud

That my life is smashing into pieces;

I don’t believe anyone else’s may freak me out.

What does is getting what I want. Because - dirty socks.

Because you seeing me in the morning without makeup.

But guess what — I want that. Crazy, huh???

I want you to look at me on waking up

The way I looked at the ground when the snow was melting,

Mesmerized by the finest veil of dreams.

I can show my naked body to the world — but not my face.

I know how to strike a pose (when not down on the floor, sobbing mathematically,

Like Spock who reached his breaking point)

My eyes will tell all,

Especially without those glue-on eyelashes I’m addicted to

Because my life has been ugly

As if mocking my love for beauty.

I want you yet I don’t know what to do with you… lol, everything.

But… ahem… I’m a siren in the desert, who has no swimming skill…

You know what I mean?

Holy fuck, I can’t believe I’m saying this. 

Do I really want anything at all, except security and quiet?

Survival, survival… fuck it.

I just want to feel your touch and melt; let you do all you want with me —

Provided it’s all tenderness,

For I’m high maintenance,

And I don’t want to let you have me

Unless I am your Holy Grail to die for.

Tell me what you do… or much better show me

How do you play the bad cards that life hands you?

I’m not turned off by the curveballs you may have suffered,

Those suckers are familiar.

I’d like to turn them into genies, put them into bottles —

And have a shooting session.

But so far they’ve been invisible.

How do you fight elusive enemies? I hope you don’t give up.

What do you do when you’re about to be homeless,

And what you love ain’t making any profit?

What do you think when ideas pile up

And so does the dust on the altar with candles, crystals, nicknacks, memory cards —

(Or skulls, dried bird’s paws, runes, DIY jewelry with forbidden symbols?)

While you’re busting your ass trying to stay fed, clean and sane?

What do you think when you sizzle with burnout from lack of sleep

And hear insults from the insane?

How do you keep your sanity?

How do you pay your bills? (a no-no question, I know;

Would be safer to ask about secret affairs and stuff).

Do you ever have suicidal thoughts? Or the longing to be a wild animal

Hunting for the dumb humans just because you’re hungry?

I do. And the second feels better >:)

They are killing me with their stupidity, self-righteousness

And just mere luck they think is their entitlement.

But enough of “them”… this world is broken

And Kabbalah teaches we can only help

Those of our own kin.

I know you’re of the same one as me

Because you’re helping.

I’ll tell you what I do when the going gets tough.

Nothing. I stop, listen and feel.

I let the wave carry me,

And I no longer feel trapped in the desert.

It’s so weird to receive, you know

After being brought up to give, give, give

Till my own bones are wiped clean

And the marrow sucked dry —

And shame on me if I don’t.

Well, fuck that.

In my chair now, headphones on. Getting distracted from book edits.

Life is a mess. I’m only revived by gentle CPR

My Cat performs on me, and Kindred Spirits. Beauty. Love. Stubbornness. 

I recently goTH a job at a hospital as a housekeeper —

Or EVS Technician as they call it; not without a reason.

My main observation is — you’re in charge of your own healing.

All this fancy equipment, medical teams, hard-working, risk-taking

May only help you only so much.

It comes down to you

And those who inspire you.

Ligeia came back from death

Because the Poet had called her.

It’s all so clear from long distance,

The safety of unavailability,

Not drowned in dirty laundry and unpaid bills.

Etc, etc, etc….. yuck.

But on the other hand…

It’s called LIFE. I want that, with the right person.

Walking past ICU rooms I’m learning to love life again.

I hope the temptation to kill myself is no longer there,

Because I don’t have that stuff on my bucket list.

All good stuff btw, and I want it no matter what,

Like — my Dream Home on top of the mountain,

And my soulmate, a dragon incarnate,

An angel with bat wings, a Vampire with soft feathers.

Guess what, I like my team,

All underground folks, misfits and artists.

I love the privilege of listening to long playlists

Of Goth music on shared computer

While cleaning operation rooms —

Most songs I never heard when due,

The youth I’ve missed, brought back to me

In act of weird intensive care.

I love the course of lectures on writing

Delivered for free,

That keeps me awake during long drives

In the dead of night after my shift —

What an education!

Back home, though, it’s the Orange Zone

As called in emergency department

And all my efforts to improve it 

Are fruitless.

All attempts to talk about it feel like “betrayal”,

Even though it all depends.

I’m so dead tired… and the future is uncertain.

Being tired is the worst: you relapse into your least desired patterns.

What are yours? What do you do when there’s no rest for you,

And someone calls you wicked?

What do you grasp on when you’re slipping?

How do you think yourself back to self-love, dignity and approval

When you feel like you shouldn’t have said this, or shouldn’t have done that?

How do you pass through the brick wall,

Or all four of them, crushing you?

How do you remember your value

When everything is measured in money?

How do you shut down that voice of pain,

Telling you that everything is lost, and so are you?

How do you tune in to love and inspiration?

…And what do you do

With those goddamn pesky dirty socks?……

Do Vampires even condescend to that,

Or you have a secret elf squad?

If I’m one of your kin, which I feel strongly (cheeky, I know)

Then why am I my own elf? lol 

Yikes.

I shouldn’t have said any of that. I don’t want to be ashamed of spilling the beans

And showing what a goofball I am.

I don’t want to be the one reaching out.

The girl is supposed to run away… or at least pretend she doesn’t care.

I used to believe what I want is out of reach but no more — 

It’s coming for me and I’m receiving… I feel it. I feel YOU.

What if it goes wrong? So far it always did. So what.

I need The Great Exception!! Oops, that sounds needy. Well, whatever…

I should have put on a black lipstick, tight corset and spiked leather collar

To choke my tears with. But instead…

I splurged on yet another white lace dress,

Which doesn’t even compliment my figure.

I want to sit on the grass wearing it, and bawl my head off

Dreaming of something impossible,

Praying to my demons that they aren’t scared shitless

When that Something manifests and comes for me.

May 27, 2022.