misty dreams

Dreams passing through like sighs of mist.

she, fae, mad, crazy gorgeous.

possibly an unspeakably long time between entries, but…I’ve been away with the faeries, you see, and lost in memories of my own Queen Mab. she dances no longer, but her face remains in a locket tucked away in the depths of my jewellery box…secret, safe. how I would disappoint her, if she saw me now.

still forever secretly linked, she and I. by tragedy, by love, by illness, by music, by fire, by midnight whispered promises.

she doesn’t remember, but I do. I always will.

my Mab, and my Kakeru. two I will always love, who will never think of me, and that’s fine.
we’ll always be connected, she and I, he and I.

she’s mad, that mad girl. she’s madder than a cut snake. madder than a hatter. madder than a March hare.
{how could I not be, born on the Ides thereof?}

off to dream again. to dream of winged cats, and fragile wings, and Moon-Clair(e) things.

perhaps it’s you,
     or a memory of you,
          or something I constructed out of shimmering strips of wings&woes,
               or both or all or none of these things,

but still

somewhere,
     I love you.

keeping back the flood

There are so many worlds and so many words inside me, but getting them out is like trying to get water from the moon. I want to keep writing CRESCENDO and the opening scene of FALLOUT 8 is running through my mind as clear as a movie, not to mention AKAYOROSHI’s various pieces (and history pieces)…but the words won’t come. The brain won’t concentrate. It won’t even do me the service of hyperfocusing. It just doesn’t want to do anything.

Or it wants to do everything, all the time, all at once. Which is impossible.

…I need to visit Evergreen Taoist Temple.  I remember how peaceful I felt on that school excursion. And I need, I miss, I need my city. My Brisvegas. My September city. You carved yourself into my heart, I can’t leave you — your absence sits on my soul like a suppurating ulcer.

In other news, I just accidentally stabbed myself in the thigh with a sashiko needle I dropped. Go me. 😀

“for you are in Elysium, and you are already dead.”

I’m brewing a cup of “Boulangerie” tea from Tour de Tea and it smells wonderful…and it also smells like the Wednesday markets at uni. Yet again, I want to cry.

No matter how I slice it, I’m not home. I’m very far from home, my September City, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to find a way out of here. Jericho Bay again, I guess. I’m aware I’m talking nonsense, or stream-of-consciousness…ing…there needs to be a verb for that…but I just…I don’t know. I just miss home. I miss uni. I miss jacaranda trees in wild bloom, I miss chocolate milk tea, I miss flat whites with four sugars and studying by the lakes, I miss hope. I miss possibility.

The tea tastes wonderful, as well…mild and comforting. I don’t want to pollute it with saltwater. I just want to go home, so much. It’s not a place, not wholly. It’s…everything. A feeling. Several places.

A friend visited me in 2018, and I’m so glad they got to see me at my…well, not my best, because my brain was being an absolute disaster for the majority of their visit, but. Me in my home. My September City at its best, the places I love. I wouldn’t let anyone visit me now, see me as I am, like this.

I should have gotten up and asked them to dance. I should have. I should have. I was two drinks down and I was still a coward.

Maybe I’m being negative and refusing to see anything good in my situation. I don’t think I am; there’s just so little of it here. And besides, being forced to thrive in a toxic environment is NOT a sign of happiness or health or anything of the sort.

Sure, there are possums. And stars. And a lovely wee dog who is a handful, but I love absolutely ferociously. But it’s not enough. It’s not home. I’m rotting at the core and it’s spreading outwards and outwards into the grey mist that is the future for me. I want to melt that mist, but I just don’t have the resources.

I have the willpower. I have the sheer bloody-mindedness. But I do not have the resources. Doubt I ever will. You can blame capitalism for that one.

come, tame me…

An old entry, from an abandoned journal, but it applies right now, right now, right now:

the heat of the day and the loneliness reminds me of my Malice Mizer days, my gothic lolita days, my Tokyo Babylon days…a horrifically beautiful little bubble of a world I grew around myself, how my love for “her” swelled and overflowed, even though I knew she would never feel anything at all for me, whirling in black and lace and heeled mary-janes, an adopted city, a bright light, all that hope…

god, there is no drug worse than hope. none. once you get a taste for that shit, you’re gone. you need it all the time. gimme that dopamine rush, baby. show me a future. show me a tomorrow.

I yearn so much for that feeling. that, and connection. knowing I am beloved to someone. making sure that they know how beloved they are to me. not necessarily romantic, but love. love love LOVE. swelling with love like an overripe strawberry. tender and ferocious. snarling little foxling. always snarling. always wanting, wanting, wanting…

what to do with all this love locked inside a heart bordered with scar tissue and memories?

“But if you tame me, then we shall need each other. To me, you will be unique in all the world. To you, I shall be unique in all the world…”