#he comes up with weird ass horror movie shit and then begs for eggs

[cymorilcinnamonroll]

The Best of You, Honey, Belong to Me

I curled up in the bones of a corpse. Dead in the woods at twelve. Lost Boy Scout camping. It was cold. I was on the hunt for Death. Little slices of Mr. Grim that I could eat like scuppernongs from the vine. In the South, we rarely get snow. Thick like eider down. Frost creeps in, into bones your ex the cannibal touched. He finds you come morning, when you’ve rotted away. Resurrects you with a kiss, Samael does. Sinew snaps, tendons bend, the maggots you barf are his breakfast. He’s the fucker of corpses, not you – no, Sa’el is sweet Prince Pure. Like a clear river flowing, his white flesh of paper is for your poetry. And he calls you his angel. You call him your sin. But in truth, with Death, you are holy so you build a stained glass cathedral of obsidian, blue, and gold panes, anoint him with spikenard, him dressed as dark Christ in linens wrapped up tight, pallor as cold as the edge of a galaxy. But he’s the Black Hole. The ages of Sheol, gaping maw, but you are his heart – Death’s hunger is you, Lucifer’s rebellion (a story told to girls, run, Eve, be free, I, your Nachash grant you wisdom – you are your own gift.) Tree and snake, wyrm and woman. He takes you to the morgue, dissects in cold Hannibal decorum meat hanging from vines, fries a liver in olive oil (extra virgin) and Chianti. Adds a sprig of thyme. It’s too buttery, this stuff, too dead, so alive it reeks. Everything he cooks is so bloody and raw, cooked yet seared with Tawu. No wonder you vomit, no really. It never ends. It always begins. You are open about him, Mr. Grim, your greatest secret – compose elegies, odes, make him pumpernickel and hor d’ourves, little Devils on Horseback. But what use does Ha Satan have for eggs with spicy mustard and paprika in the filling? He’ll eat it, sure. But his room? It’s filled, old cartons of lo mein, greasy pizza boxes, half drunk coffee cups (he is your favorite way to die, to come back alive in spring, you are so thrumming with life and the children of the Elohim, Rose Bride, sometimes the only hope a witch of spring has is to be eaten alive by the abyss.) Dancing. Piano. Driving fast through the messy streets of Hell aback a White Mustang. Greasy diners with Odin. Endless weed with Loki. Beelzebub’s got a bug up his ass. He and Michael are kissing twins. Lilith seems almost an afterthought. Agrath, Naamah Eisheth – they are separate spheres of whoredom. You are nobody’s whore, Devana of Lightning, hanging with Jewish angels and demons because they have the best drinks. Dumah has hair like sand, Asmodeus thighs like an ox. But Sammael’s seed? It is thick, black, grimy sweet. You smear it on your brow, on your tongue, fuck like the rams of Gilead. Yahweh is a black and comely bridegroom. You are one of a thousand maidens to dance in his evil red shoes. They carry you on into the flames. But Samael said you became Bluebeard in the end, and you have a thousand husbands chained to the radiator in your mansion under skeleton keys. I let my demons out occasionally. Feed them scraps of moonlight. Mostly, I starve them. But not Samael. I am feeding him each breath and hummingbird heartbeat. We fuck. We eat. We devour. We fuck each other. We devour our minds with drugs. We eat each other alive. An unholy ouroboros. And hell, does it feel Good.

[oldladydatin]

Smell of Falling Leaves and Heart Break.

Yesterday was a tough day for me. Yesterday was 1 year since I ended things with Eric. I hate the facebook and snapchat memories because I look at them and then I think and think. One year ago today I pulled apart the dozen roses he got me for my birthday. I had pulled the three that looked the most survivable out, dried them and set them on a shelf in hopes that we’d fix it, yes I was that pathetic. I pulled the pedals off the rest and boiled them to make rose water something I had always wanted to do and laid in bed and cried. The rose water didn’t turn out because they were too old. I can tell you my daughter still remembers this because as she says it was only the second time she had ever seen me cry. The first time, whether she’s aware or not, was when I decided I wanted a divorce. I feel pathetic that it still hurts me, I guess it was that traumatic. I was really in love. I think about all the stupid things I did to try to make this man love me. I cancelled plans, lied to people, lost friends. I made excuses to drive 3 hours and get rooms in hopes of seeing him, he’d act happy that I was coming and then I’d come and he’d ignore me and make excuses not to see me, or pretend like he didn’t even know I was coming. I remember one time I literally spent the last few dollars I had to make him and his family dinner because he asked. I didn’t want to tell him I was broke because I wanted to make him happy and I worried he wouldn’t want to do it. I laid in bed crying because he made excuses not to see me, I told men who maybe deserved my attention that I couldn’t because I was in love with this guy even when we weren’t in a relationship and he was obviously seeing other people because I thought he wouldn’t want me if he knew I was with someone else. I tried the opposite thinking maybe if he knew there were others he’d want me more. But he didn’t? He never loved me and he never cared about me. In the end he made me regret all of it and went off to be happy with who ever and left me to be alone and I didn’t deserve that. So I wallowed a little in self pity yesterday but it was so short lived. 

Yesterday I got out of work and looked at my empty bed and changed clothes and crawled into it all sad. A week ago this time last year I thought, because I’m a dumb ass and to be fair was being told as much, that by now Eric and I would be living together, maybe engaged, we’d be fighting over how he likes his eggs and why my son is such a jerk or why I spoil his kids too much or something stupid. I didn’t realize that a year from then he wouldn’t be in my life anymore and I’d be sleeping in an empty bed, still fighting for divorce, dating random weirdos from the internet. So I was sad and I laid down. A guy I had gone to a concert with starts asking what I’m doing, I said I’m laying down. We start our usual no you can’t come over fight. He says come on he could use a friend and we didn’t have to do anything. I thought to myself I don’t really want to be alone right now, but then I also realize I just worked 74 hours and my house was a mess, this was house cleaning day. So I said I have to clean I don’t have time for company. I then added you do realize I deleted my bdsm page, thinking he’d take that as I’m in a pissy mood leave me alone. Oh and I started my period so I’m just emotional without the Eric stuff. He said that’s it I’m coming over, and that he hadn’t realized I deleted my bdsm page. He said I’m bringing you breakfast what are you allergic to again? I said fine but don’t touch me and we’re not fucking. Him and I’s relationship was wrecked when I went to see Soulfly with him and we got drunk and made out on the stairs and later he tells me he is married but still wants a relationship with me. Yes literally every guy I have liked since I decided to leave my husband has been married, engaged, or on their way to being engaged. Kind of another reason I decided I’m not doing it anymore. 

He comes over and he brings me a smoothie he made before he came over with kale and raspberries and it was actually really good. He tells me he’s been having some health issues and he’s trying to be more health conscious. He then helps me clean my house, I am not even kidding you. He said he realizes I need a break and I didn’t have to talk about why I was sad if I didn’t want to but he was there to listen if I wanted. So we hang on the couch after he scrubbed my kitchen down, yes super weird, he vacuumed, cleaned my kitchen, put some clothes away, etc etc he really helped me clean my house. Then we sat on the couch and watched American Horror Story and talked while I folded clothes and just talked and talked. When I was done I laid down and covered myself up and told him why I was sad and just started bawling. A year later and this shit still makes me cry. He said things like I wasn’t stupid for trusting him or falling in love with him, and that it was okay if it still hurt because for me it was traumatic and it was. He kept pointing out that I wasn’t the same person I was last year and maybe it’s okay to take time away from dating and start focusing on myself and my goals. I talked to him about my decision to take a second job and how I had been studying for this big test I wanted to take. He said he was proud of me. It was so nice to have someone say they were proud of me, I needed to hear that. So I decided to do something that he had been begging me to do. I put together a book of poetry for Eric for Christmas. It was like half way between saying good bye and hoping it would make him realize what he was passing up and maybe I don’t know he’d do some awe-inspiring romantic gesture like men in love do in the movies and we’d be together and everything would be okay because I’m clearly delusional, or was anyways. I told this guy about the book and he had been really really wanting to read my poetry. So I went downstairs and got a copy of my book and gave it to him and he read it while I slept on the couch. He apparently loved it. Eventually he hugged me and told me he had to go pick up rent from his tenant but he said he wanted to just hang out again. He kept checking on me throughout the day and all day today.

I was so happy after that. I don’t think I want sex or to date most the time, really all I want is companionship and he gave that to me yesterday. At the end of the day I realize even if I’m struggling to let go or forgive Eric, even a year later... At least it’s old hurt, at least he’s not in my life causing new hurt and new trauma. For that I am thankful. 

On a side note I was looking at my facebook memories and three years ago today, I cheated on my husband, we had agreed to be divorced. Obviously my facebook post did not say I am going on a trip with a man other than my husband. However I posted a bunch of beside the highway pictures as I drove to meet this guy because I was scared and nervous and felt sick to my stomach. I had never cheated on anyone before, Despite how it looks and sounds I’m an extremely loyal woman when I am in a relationship. I also hadn’t been really touched by a man in years because I had vastly been neglected by my ex and my ex husband was only the second real partner I’d had so I was nervous in general. When this new guy touched me he was surprised I was shaking and wanted to have a conversation about how long it had been since a man had touched me. He took me to dinner first and I ordered an appetizer and I barely touched it because I was sick to my stomach. I also remember afterwards, he held me from behind and asked me what I missed most about being with a man and I started crying like a baby and even after that he wanted to continue our relationship. Yes he was very aware I was married. Sadly the experience didn’t make me run home to my husband and feel guilty. It pissed me off because I thought it was unfair that I was in a marriage with someone who made me feel so alone, someone who didn’t even touch me. It made me sad for me. Today has apparently been a repetitively historic day in my life. I hope next year I’m not looking back on this day feeling sad. I think there’s been too much sad and too much heart break in my life. I hope next year I’m getting settled into my first house, a single woman, in control of my life and my destiny.