the idea that a French man speaking about an American man in an Argyle sweater sounds so poetic
a separation of stones and tones
crystals that shimmer widely
eye opening scarves around her neck biking swiftly down the street and bearded men with the kind of voice you might hear on a weekend breeze laying still on your bed in the ebbs of the slow afternoon, hot and sticky from the curtains being pulled down and the cats merging into balls into folds of fabric into your arms into the crevices and folds of your skin into the air which assumes a texture much like your sheets much like the surface of your skin
when you think about it, one of your hands is not much different from the other, one penny not much different from two, and in the moments before you rise from your bed, stillness not much different from movement, and the environment of your room not much different from the sensations spilling out from the internal environment of your body. your skin is not the sort of prison system that shuts everything in. it has holes and chutes and rivers ready to expel shit out.
a space outside a space inside and all your organs on the floor of whose room?
the room of all your inner spaces spills into the room of your outer spaces the one supposed to protect you from yourself and your self's interaction with the outside world.
so many pockets. slivers of rings, empty circles, vacant thoughts that carry weight when you look up at them so close it hurts to breathe, when you step away so far you are above everyone else, a king, an eagle, a master of shit. garbage. earth.
heaven can be held in your hand even with a couple fingers broken off.
these fingers that fell or flew
a drop of blood from sitting on the ground
a drop of heaven in my weighted heart meant to measure sin
a tear drop crystallizes on my palm
a slender fish swimming upstream
"environment to each must be all this isn't me
UNIVERSE to each must be all that isn't me AND me."
- R. Buckminster Fuller
sorry bunny
Wednesday, October 29, 2014
Saturday, October 18, 2014
sicksicksick
sickening dynamism
balancing swing pull push lub dub ebb flow
they say when one empties the other fills
if all was level there would be no movement
sickening hell eyes
see hell
see heaven at once
has the dynamism has the dynamism
has the dynamism of a star athlete who awakens every 30 years to wow their audience
point unfair fair nodal noxious wiggle
an unclimactic climax wiggles its way to the forefront of yer eye goggles
swimm in gelly liquid lens
that can be bent by fingernails
today no more wanting.
no anything.
clouds low.
clean my room clean my room cleanmyroom
eat my dust
bite it clean
bite it wash
in the serious moon
in the serious target
I had a job I had a job ive had 3 jobs in the past year
noxious black tea baby
absurd desires
for a worn heavy womb
beg to be alone do things based on alone.
if I was alone
id be digging into the dirt to get to the deadline
cross all my Ts dot all my Is extra credit
I can or cannot do it alone
I cant do it alone
do it.
do it.
do it.
do it.
there are many people
from a place of love
I love these knees eyes legs resistance chard of glass on the fllllloooor
no pet
only lies
shut
balancing swing pull push lub dub ebb flow
they say when one empties the other fills
if all was level there would be no movement
sickening hell eyes
see hell
see heaven at once
has the dynamism has the dynamism
has the dynamism of a star athlete who awakens every 30 years to wow their audience
point unfair fair nodal noxious wiggle
an unclimactic climax wiggles its way to the forefront of yer eye goggles
swimm in gelly liquid lens
that can be bent by fingernails
today no more wanting.
no anything.
clouds low.
clean my room clean my room cleanmyroom
eat my dust
bite it clean
bite it wash
in the serious moon
in the serious target
I had a job I had a job ive had 3 jobs in the past year
noxious black tea baby
absurd desires
for a worn heavy womb
beg to be alone do things based on alone.
if I was alone
id be digging into the dirt to get to the deadline
cross all my Ts dot all my Is extra credit
I can or cannot do it alone
I cant do it alone
do it.
do it.
do it.
do it.
there are many people
from a place of love
I love these knees eyes legs resistance chard of glass on the fllllloooor
no pet
only lies
shut
Wednesday, October 15, 2014
Vitex Agnus Castus - Chaste Tree Berry
"to cool the heat of lust"
http://nccam.nih.gov/health/chasteberry
"Chaste tree berry extract is believed to exert its clinical action through its dopaminergic effects on the anterior pituitary. Animal and human studies have shown that extracts of chaste tree bind to dopamine2 receptors in the anterior pituitary and decrease both basal- and thyrotropin-releasing-hormone-stimulated secretion of prolactin.[35-38] This decrease in prolactin leads to increased progesterone production in the luteal phase of the menstrual cycle, which reduces symptoms of PMS.[39] Consistent with this theory, PMS sufferers have significantly higher rates of prolactin throughout their cycles, especially in the second and third weeks.[40] Vitex has been postulated to correct hyperprolactinemia, thus allowing normal corpus luteum development and preventing PMS."
http://www.medscape.com/viewarticle/406683_3
" In particular it can normalize the amount of progesterone in our bodies."
http://www.blossomclinic.net/2012/01/04/chaste-tree-berry-vitex-a-girls-best-friend-2/
___________________
This summer I bought Chaste tree Berry tincture, which I could taste to be quite strong, to begin preparing my body for pregnancy. I felt as though the repeated medical procedures I've had, as well as 4 years of symptoms of off & on PCOS, have compromised my otherwise fertile body. I also feel strongly that it has a balancing effect, progesterone/estrogen, on my body.
Something I am greatly into, and experiment with, is the so-called 'homeopathic' effects of herbs, medicines, drugs, plants, food, etc.
Maybe it's that I've lived in the armpit of the Pacific North-West where it was common to go to the herb store, look up an herb in a book, and take some experimentally, sometimes under the guidance of the Olympia Free Herbal Clinic, but maybe more so it is the ultimate trust I have in my spirit and being protected at all times by my angels and spirit guide... BUT more than anything it must be my curiosity, and faith in my own personal wisdom.
Well. I have this one very bad habit, and very terrible compulsion, to put myself in situations where I will likely be taken advantage of. Part of me knows it is an energy I send out that emits some sort of vibration that calls out:
Come to me, and Use me as you Please. I am a doll to be bought and sold. A catalyst to your passions, evicted afterwards to be eternally alone.
Last night, I felt that Chaste Tree Berry would surround my body with a vibration of protection, it would insulate my own desires and direct them towards myself.
I noticed that my lust for physical companionship was way reduced in an environment where I most likely could have been seductive, and it seemed to also reduce the lusty feelings from the other person I was around. I noticed movement and feeling in my Ileo-Ceceal Valve, which aligns above my right ovary and becomes stuck or swollen often when I am ovulating.
I feel a great amount of gratitude for being able to not submit to my social conditioning that I am a doll to be abused freely.
I will continue to use Chaste Tree Berry, especially this year, this year of recovery from being sexually abused for much of my adult life.
And as a side note, because I believe I have higher amounts of male hormones than other female-bodied peoples, I wonder if it will help with that, the more I use it consistently.
~ Teeth Crush Bones
http://nccam.nih.gov/health/chasteberry
"Chaste tree berry extract is believed to exert its clinical action through its dopaminergic effects on the anterior pituitary. Animal and human studies have shown that extracts of chaste tree bind to dopamine2 receptors in the anterior pituitary and decrease both basal- and thyrotropin-releasing-hormone-stimulated secretion of prolactin.[35-38] This decrease in prolactin leads to increased progesterone production in the luteal phase of the menstrual cycle, which reduces symptoms of PMS.[39] Consistent with this theory, PMS sufferers have significantly higher rates of prolactin throughout their cycles, especially in the second and third weeks.[40] Vitex has been postulated to correct hyperprolactinemia, thus allowing normal corpus luteum development and preventing PMS."
http://www.medscape.com/viewarticle/406683_3
" In particular it can normalize the amount of progesterone in our bodies."
http://www.blossomclinic.net/2012/01/04/chaste-tree-berry-vitex-a-girls-best-friend-2/
___________________
This summer I bought Chaste tree Berry tincture, which I could taste to be quite strong, to begin preparing my body for pregnancy. I felt as though the repeated medical procedures I've had, as well as 4 years of symptoms of off & on PCOS, have compromised my otherwise fertile body. I also feel strongly that it has a balancing effect, progesterone/estrogen, on my body.
Something I am greatly into, and experiment with, is the so-called 'homeopathic' effects of herbs, medicines, drugs, plants, food, etc.
Maybe it's that I've lived in the armpit of the Pacific North-West where it was common to go to the herb store, look up an herb in a book, and take some experimentally, sometimes under the guidance of the Olympia Free Herbal Clinic, but maybe more so it is the ultimate trust I have in my spirit and being protected at all times by my angels and spirit guide... BUT more than anything it must be my curiosity, and faith in my own personal wisdom.
Well. I have this one very bad habit, and very terrible compulsion, to put myself in situations where I will likely be taken advantage of. Part of me knows it is an energy I send out that emits some sort of vibration that calls out:
Come to me, and Use me as you Please. I am a doll to be bought and sold. A catalyst to your passions, evicted afterwards to be eternally alone.
Last night, I felt that Chaste Tree Berry would surround my body with a vibration of protection, it would insulate my own desires and direct them towards myself.
I noticed that my lust for physical companionship was way reduced in an environment where I most likely could have been seductive, and it seemed to also reduce the lusty feelings from the other person I was around. I noticed movement and feeling in my Ileo-Ceceal Valve, which aligns above my right ovary and becomes stuck or swollen often when I am ovulating.
I feel a great amount of gratitude for being able to not submit to my social conditioning that I am a doll to be abused freely.
I will continue to use Chaste Tree Berry, especially this year, this year of recovery from being sexually abused for much of my adult life.
And as a side note, because I believe I have higher amounts of male hormones than other female-bodied peoples, I wonder if it will help with that, the more I use it consistently.
~ Teeth Crush Bones
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
the |BODY| is my 'lingua franca', in its abscence there is no/thing between us
the |body| is the only truth I know even a foot// of distance creates confusion. I don't understand you and I have no/thing to say when you touch your hands to my hands we pass infinite communication when I turn to walk away we are instantly removed from memory as if a phone is left off the hook
if I could scream from my roof and touch your roof,....
that is why I keep my mouth open
in case my breath is ever thick enough
the |body| is the only river I trust
when I drown, I do not die in it- unlike the way speech drops to cut my throat until I bleed to death left alone to dry in the sun
the |body| is the only truth I know in its abscence there is no/thing beween us and these words , only white noise.
the |body| is the only truth I know even a foot// of distance creates confusion. I don't understand you and I have no/thing to say when you touch your hands to my hands we pass infinite communication when I turn to walk away we are instantly removed from memory as if a phone is left off the hook
if I could scream from my roof and touch your roof,....
that is why I keep my mouth open
in case my breath is ever thick enough
the |body| is the only river I trust
when I drown, I do not die in it- unlike the way speech drops to cut my throat until I bleed to death left alone to dry in the sun
the |body| is the only truth I know in its abscence there is no/thing beween us and these words , only white noise.
nodal
everything was raw
on the cutting board and open and spinning wildly and bleeding
gums that didn't make room and bled and teeth that make room and bending down to touch your toes and all the things one can do with their eyes
to spin backwards
do handstand and try out something heavy
[she moved like a slow lumberjack who didn't take any advice from the mouths of babes]
if person A was crying
then person B would be alluding to something casual
and then person A would wind up on the floor in huge sigh, covered in post-masturbatory bed sheets
"we are always a mix of genitals. but we use the the target system to divide ourselves. people who hit the center of the target with their ecstatic juice HERE are rendered hopeless and ill-communicable. people who fall short are put in the boat and sent off to THERE. Trained in under-water sky diving."
"Oh isn't that baby so precious what a cutie! Is it a boy or a girl?"
"Well, why don't you take 'em for a spin and find out?"
"Uhhh..."
It was something like the right kind of lighting, dusk or something like dusk.
A scraping sound underneath the concrete and trains in the distance, coming and going, and the moonlight, coming and going with the wind and the way it made the trees and the flags hover beneath the sky, undulating ebb & flow of depth perception. Covering. And uncovering. Covering and Uncovering.
Hiding and not hiding. In extremes, him-her-we lay now in still neutrality on the hard-wood floor. She-him-they hadn't made the target, or missed the target, or gotten anywhere. They felt constant pull towards so many directions that thrustly once a day lay by themselves, delusionally in the ecstasy of the coarse wood grain they could see so close up by falling face first on it.
Just like hugging a tree or a soft milky person, him-she-we-them never wanted to let go.
do a dandystand. do a handstand. do a dandy stand. do a dandelion. be a lion. be a pride. be something. don't just lay there! you're worth more than that! be productive! have a family! make some babies then take care of them! be a doctor! try a technical skill!
be more do more
allways
eat more
poop more
die more
willingly
in soft fleshy folds of skin, perched on a flake of dust, hiding from the sun, a future-fairy glimpsed her former self. in those bedsheets. wrapped so warm and wet.
these folds of skin connecting. so squishy warm.
we never want to leave we wish to die here if we have to.
and slowly with one foot out she-him-her-we-them starts shaking. starts coming alive again.
the climax is finally over. the sun is rising. and everyone is staring at you from their homes inside tiny cracks in the wood flooring where all the eggs lay awaiting birth.
breathe in.
breathe out.
a love of nature.
a true love in a breeze.
a real love in a breath.
a sincere love when I close my eyes.
a loyalty at night in the bedsheets before the daily ritual re-birth.
no. no. no. no. no. no.no.
and all the said things that sound so clever fall off target like abstraction sent away to another world.
and all the nonsense does't fit in things, face it, must fend fer themselves.
breathe in.
breath out.
there is joy in the air, just, you can see it, by even trying to look at it.
and you don't have to do anything about your condition.
breathe in. breathe out. now,
prostrate.
on the cutting board and open and spinning wildly and bleeding
gums that didn't make room and bled and teeth that make room and bending down to touch your toes and all the things one can do with their eyes
to spin backwards
do handstand and try out something heavy
[she moved like a slow lumberjack who didn't take any advice from the mouths of babes]
if person A was crying
then person B would be alluding to something casual
and then person A would wind up on the floor in huge sigh, covered in post-masturbatory bed sheets
"we are always a mix of genitals. but we use the the target system to divide ourselves. people who hit the center of the target with their ecstatic juice HERE are rendered hopeless and ill-communicable. people who fall short are put in the boat and sent off to THERE. Trained in under-water sky diving."
"Oh isn't that baby so precious what a cutie! Is it a boy or a girl?"
"Well, why don't you take 'em for a spin and find out?"
"Uhhh..."
It was something like the right kind of lighting, dusk or something like dusk.
A scraping sound underneath the concrete and trains in the distance, coming and going, and the moonlight, coming and going with the wind and the way it made the trees and the flags hover beneath the sky, undulating ebb & flow of depth perception. Covering. And uncovering. Covering and Uncovering.
Hiding and not hiding. In extremes, him-her-we lay now in still neutrality on the hard-wood floor. She-him-they hadn't made the target, or missed the target, or gotten anywhere. They felt constant pull towards so many directions that thrustly once a day lay by themselves, delusionally in the ecstasy of the coarse wood grain they could see so close up by falling face first on it.
Just like hugging a tree or a soft milky person, him-she-we-them never wanted to let go.
do a dandystand. do a handstand. do a dandy stand. do a dandelion. be a lion. be a pride. be something. don't just lay there! you're worth more than that! be productive! have a family! make some babies then take care of them! be a doctor! try a technical skill!
be more do more
allways
eat more
poop more
die more
willingly
in soft fleshy folds of skin, perched on a flake of dust, hiding from the sun, a future-fairy glimpsed her former self. in those bedsheets. wrapped so warm and wet.
these folds of skin connecting. so squishy warm.
we never want to leave we wish to die here if we have to.
and slowly with one foot out she-him-her-we-them starts shaking. starts coming alive again.
the climax is finally over. the sun is rising. and everyone is staring at you from their homes inside tiny cracks in the wood flooring where all the eggs lay awaiting birth.
breathe in.
breathe out.
a love of nature.
a true love in a breeze.
a real love in a breath.
a sincere love when I close my eyes.
a loyalty at night in the bedsheets before the daily ritual re-birth.
no. no. no. no. no. no.no.
and all the said things that sound so clever fall off target like abstraction sent away to another world.
and all the nonsense does't fit in things, face it, must fend fer themselves.
breathe in.
breath out.
there is joy in the air, just, you can see it, by even trying to look at it.
and you don't have to do anything about your condition.
breathe in. breathe out. now,
prostrate.